CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
EMMERY
Compared to the labyrinth, the Hollow was a damn sanctuary.
As they exited through the strange doorway and Emmery’s senses returned, she studied the obsidian water rippling beneath Dez’s feet with the Whispering Spring’s thrumming power and ominous darkness.
Ahead, a great city stretched, all tall shiny black buildings, glass, and sharp corners.
Marbled mountains rose to the sky on all sides, tiny homes slotted into the stone, as if the land warped to accommodate them.
A red haze hung over the town like dying candlelight and fading embers.
And a colossal black iron gate surrounded the city like that of Ellynne’s capital.
Warmth settled inside her as she gazed out over the landscape. “This place feels safe,” she mumbled into Dez's neck. Usually she’d fight to keep her eyes open, to stay on guard, but Destonne’s safety allowed her a moment of peace, though his steps dragged.
“I wouldn’t make such assumptions yet.” The rough, tired words rumbled through her. “Legend says this is only the first level. Where the souls Deimos deems worthy have the privilege of spending their afterlife. But the further down the soul is sent, the greater the sinner.”
Emmery’s stomach soured. “Do we have to descend?”
“Thankfully, no.”
A stretch in the distance, a massive black waterfall tumbled from the sky. It towered over the buildings and seemed to pool somewhere behind them.
“It’s beautiful,” she breathed. She blinked as if the magic would fade at any moment and the true, vile exterior would bleed through.
“Beauty is dangerous.” A trembling breath quaked in his chest. “I have a sneaking suspicion that, at any moment, this whole place is going to open like some poisonous bloom, and rain terror down on us.”
Emmery glanced up at Dez to find him blinking back something as he gazed ahead. A thing that swam in his eyes. Something new.
As they approached the black gate, it boomed with magic and its sharp edges glinted in the low light. Thankfully no Guardian waited at the gate.
Emmery pulled away from Destonne’s neck, sure he was tired of carrying her. “You can put me down,” she said, her voice full of gravel. “I can walk.”
His arms only tightened and he said under his breath, “Not yet.”
The gate creaked open like it sensed their presence, and Destonne hesitantly crossed the threshold. He paused as if he imagined lightning or some calamitous force would strike them. But when nothing happened, he released a jagged breath of both agony and relief.
“You’re in pain. I can hear it in your voice, Dez.”
His defeated sigh rustled the loose hairs on her forehead as he set her feet back on the ground. The wounds on his chest and arms had clotted, but the burn and claw marks were bad.
She reached for him, but he stepped back like he was … afraid of her. And the way he retreated twisted something ugly inside her.
“I know what you’re thinking, and no.” His jaw hardened and his stare edged insanity. “You truly are reckless. Do you know how close you were to Collapse? Does that mean anything to you?”
She swallowed and her eyes flicked over his blood-soaked face. “Well, I know what it is, but—”
“Don’t summon even a flicker of your magic.” A sharpness entered his words, a tone he’d never used with her. He turned away and cleared his throat. “Reize told me there are healing waters here that funnel from the Whispering Spring. We need to find it. Now.”
She wasn’t sure if it was the fatigue or what they had just endured, but tears burned the back of her throat. “Are you angry with me? I didn’t mean to hurt you. I’m sorry.”
“No.” His chest heaved, shook, and he pinched the bridge of his nose and shut his eyes. “To be honest with you, Emmery, though I know you think I don’t feel anything, I’m a tad shaken by … all of that.”
She was too, however her mind refused to process it, and, instead, tucked it away like a far-off dream.
Emmery glanced back at the trail of blood behind him and for a moment, she wondered how much he could actually bleed, or if that cursed crown gave him some sort of gods willing bend of fate.
But a question squeezed between her ribs.
What if he died? Maybe his curse or his unmatched confidence had somehow convinced her that Dez was invincible, but now, she didn’t know what she would do if he wasn’t.
“Let’s find the water,” she said. She gently slid her hand into his, slick with his blood. Destonne stared down at their twined fingers and that same look returned, but he blinked it away.
Silhouettes with a smattering of stars wandered past, what she could only assume to be the shadow part of the soul Deimos claimed. But there were others here too. Tangible people with demonic features like Senka or Melantha like wings or horns or claws.
Emmery pressed closer to Dez’s side as they surged into a crowd.
Silence separated them as they clung to each other, not willing to talk about what happened in that labyrinth.
Not speaking of the monster seizing Emmery nor the way he reached inside her and pulled her out of that dark, cavernous place.
The same way he’d talked her out of her panic that day at Reize’s cottage.
Because whatever had taken root, whatever had tied or tethered or shackled them, was now laid bare for both of them to see.
She’s mine. The way he’d said it, claimed it—fuck, it did something to her. Tore her down the middle and stuffed the words into her ribcage where they didn’t fit. Where they swelled and pinched and hurt her heart.
Emmery shivered and hugged her middle. Tried to numb to it all.
They traversed the city until they reached a spot where mountains split then squeezed through the narrow path.
Ahead, the waterfall tumbled into the obsidian spring, its shimmer like starlight, and stretched further than the length of the Hollow, as if it continued on infinitely and wound into the realms beyond.
Dez led her to a private corner, far from the three lingering souls bathing.
They stared at one another, not sure how to proceed, or where the boundaries lay after all they’d been through together.
Emmery couldn’t get air into her damn chest as her eyes skimmed down his body and her mouth grew dry.
Dez moved first. As he tugged off his tunic, a hiss of air escaped through his teeth. Next he toed off his boots, which left him in only his trousers.
Though she knew she shouldn’t, Emmery stared. While they were both a bloody, filthy mess, he was still Dez, and she was still her.
Emmery’s gaze traced his broad shoulders, the lines and curves of his chest and biceps. The new wounds he wore as victories and the scars as memories. And her eyes dipped lower still.
Dez let her look, let her see him, all he was, and he didn’t hide. He gazed back at her with a darkness that could eclipse the sun. Steal the moon.
Heat pooled inside her and she reached for the hem of her own tunic, unafraid for him to see her, too, but Dez turned away. His fingers fumbled with the clasp on his trousers as he stalked into the spring to put space between them, the water sloshing with each of his steps.
A pang of hurt speared through Emmery’s chest as she tore off her tunic.
The cool air caressed her breasts while she tugged off her boots and peeled off her trousers.
She took an uneven breath and stepped into the water.
The relief hit her all at once as she sank under and let the spring take her.
It soaked her hair and muscles and every tender part of her.
When she surfaced and treaded water like Dez had taught her, she caught his eye from across the pool.
Because they always seemed to find one another, and he always seemed to be watching her first.
Although she knew the water hid her body below her collarbones and neck, his gaze touched her more than hands ever could.
Emmery tore herself from him, desperate to wash the blood away, to scour all that happened from her skin until she was raw, cleansed, and free from all of this.
To keep her hands busy, she retrieved her clothes to scrub them.
Anything to distract from her thoughts. To not think of him across the spring.
To not think of his perfect lips and strong arms, and body that made her endlessly … want.
Regardless, all his words sang through her head. The ones she’d collected like secrets.
Some people can’t look at something so terrifyingly beautiful. Something that could absolutely decimate them. It strikes fear in their hearts and they run instead of taking time to really see it.
I will never let you drown.
You can’t have her. She doesn’t belong to you. She’s mine.
And that blasted dream that made her soul burn.
We look … good together.
Tell me you feel this. Say you want me too. Admit it. Say it out loud.
What if I said I wanted you? What if I begged? What if I got on my knees? Would you even look at me, Emmery? Would you actually see me? Because sometimes … sometimes I swear, you do.
But when she glanced up, Destonne was gone.
After Emmery pulled herself from the water and donned her soaked clothes, she found Dez on the shore a short distance away.
His trousers dripped as they stood there, facing each other, unspeaking, and he wrung his shirt between his hands before he tugged it over his head.
The fabric tore on his crown, but he didn’t seem to care. And he wouldn’t look at her.
She cleared her throat, not sure what to say. Not sure what was happening between them. “Dez?”
“Emmery, I—” He started but when he glanced up, his gaze wandered behind her, and almost imperceptibly, his bottom lip quivered. “Mum?” he croaked.
If heartbreak could be captured in a word, that would’ve been it.
Sure enough, a woman with curly hair to her shoulders stood several paces away in a white floor-length dress.
Like the other souls, the same starry silhouette shaped her.
The woman clasped her hands together as she smiled, and just from that glance, from her smile, warm like a streak of sunshine on a cold day, Emmery knew it to be true.
Dez took a small step forward, more of a stumble, and then ran.
His arms pumped as if he couldn’t cross the distance fast enough, and when he reached her, he scooped the woman up in his arms, lifting her feet off the ground as he clung to her.
He held her like she was a figment of his imagination but he would pray to gods he didn't worship to make this true. To make it real.
He set her down and towered over her in a way that hurt and Emmery had to look away, to tear herself from the love in his eyes, and vulnerability that now spilled from him. A tiny sob slipped from him when his mum placed a hand on his cheek.
“You’re so tall,” she whispered. She laughed a little sadly.
Her eyes traced over his face as if she could memorize this moment and this man that stood before her.
But as she studied the thorns that had torn through his flesh and brushed his hair back to study the crown, she asked, “Oh, Dezzy, what happened?”
He shook his head and his throat worked like he barely clung to sanity.
Like he wanted to crumple to the ground, wrap his arms around his mum, and stay there forever.
His lashes brushed his cheeks as he squeezed his eyes shut, maybe to capture her voice, too, and steal it for grim times when he needed it.
“It’s nothing,” he said, his voice a tragic broken thing.
She grabbed his chin and aligned his gaze with hers. “Destonne Evryn O’Daire. This is not nothing.”
“I don't—it’s…” He shook his head again as if this was truly breaking him, rattling his foundation, and tearing him to shreds like the thorns did everyday. “I—I miss you, Mum. I miss you too much. There’s so much I want to tell you. And now that you’re here, I don’t know where to start.”
A softness replaced her motherly scorn, one Emmery had seen in Dez, too.
A gentle nature he’d worked hard to bury.
“I miss you more than you could ever imagine.” She took his face in her hands and said softly, “I don’t have much time.
I can only remain here for a short while.
” Then her eyes flared and she snagged the crystal that hung from his neck to tug him down to her height.
“What in Deimos’s hand is this? This is bad, Dezzy. Really bad. You need to destroy this.”
“It’s—” He stared at the ground with boyish guilt in his eyes. “I will.” He took it from her and tucked it beneath his shirt before he glanced at Emmery. “Are you done lecturing me so I can introduce you to my—” His brows drew together and he practically choked out, “Friend.”
Not wanting to interrupt their reunion, Emmery stood there, mute, but Dez stalked over and caught her arm, before he dragged her over to stand beside him. “Mum, this is Emmery.”
“Emmery,” she said. She made her name sound like it held the answers to the universe. A smile curled his mum’s lips. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
Before Emmery could return her smile, his mum seized her in an embrace.
Tears clouded Emmery’s eyes as she tried to remember how long it had been since her own mother held her.
This embrace edged far too close to her mother’s bear hugs that her soul craved.
She cleared the emotion clogged in her throat and returned the embrace as fully as she could muster without shrivelling to a wilted mess. “It’s … very nice to meet you too.”
Destonne’s mum held Emmery at arms-length and smiled brightly as her eyes glowed in an otherworldly hue. “You are so beautiful.”
“Uhm, thank you.” Emmery’s cheeks reddened, sure she looked like a drowned rat and that forward compliment caught her off guard.
Dez’s mum squeezed Emmery’s shoulders before she released her.
After a quick glance between them, Emmery stepped back. “I’ll let you speak in private.”
But Dez caught her wrist and led her a few paces away. “I’m coming with you.”
Emmery glanced back at his mum whose corners of her eyes crinkled in a smile as she watched the two of them. “You should stay. If I—” She heaved a breath. “If I had a chance to see my mother again, I wouldn’t waste a second. You shouldn’t either.”
Destonne watched her. A tense moment ticked by, before he took an uneven breath and leaned his brow against hers. “Thank you,” he said shakily.
As her insides crumpled, Emmery turned away, folded in on herself, but he snagged her arm once more and pulled her to him. Then Dez wrapped her in his arms in a way she didn’t know she needed.
He held her so gently, for a heartbeat, she forgot everything.
Where they were.
Who they were.
Forgot the prophecy, the terrors they’d endured and were sure to continue, and the world fell away. Emmery pressed her cheek into his chest. Sank into that fleeting peace. Sank into him.
Even if it was only a fantasy.