Chapter 11 Aethra
Aethra
Swirling colors trickled past me, like ink spilling from a bottle. Life filled the black canvas, painting a world inside the void. The scarlet wings wrapped around me unfolded, beating through the air to slow our fall.
Seth landed on his feet, cradling me in his arms. I looked up and caught an expression of surprise etched on his face—he hadn’t expected to stick the landing.
Pain broke through the surprise, and he grimaced. Remembering his wounded shoulder, I slipped from his grip, reaching for my skirt to tear loose another chunk. My hands wrapped around the fabric, and I froze.
We stood in a realm I could hardly comprehend. Blue flowers stretched in a rolling meadow around us, their textures odd—like painted strokes. Sheer cliffs tumbled into shadow, where serpents writhed in the chasm below, a stark contrast to the warm sun shining above, wrapped in wings of snow.
Seth made a strangled sound of pain and fell to one knee. Snapping out of my trance, I ripped my skirt and balled the fabric up to pack the wound with. He lunged away from me.
“Are you going to tell me chthonics don’t need healing?” I asked.
“Not this time,” he growled, teeth grinding together.
“Sit still, then,” I ordered, shoving the fabric into the gash.
The scarlet wings fell from his back in a fountain of blood, leaving behind only stains. Some remained to cover the spear wound on his back, sealing the wound closed. Regaining his dignity, he stood, wiping a smear of blood from his cheek.
Seth’s eyes locked on the bruises painting my shoulders black and purple. Gently taking my arms, he pulled me closer.
“Are you alright?” He asked.
Seeing him up close—seeing the resemblance to the man from my dreams, my limbs shook, and I flinched and reared away from him. Noticing my fear, he dropped my shoulders and stepped back.
“What’s wrong?” His voice quivered.
All my adrenaline dissolved. Ripping pain throbbed in my bruised arms, and I lost balance.
Seth caught me before I struck the ground. His eyes flared in concern.
“I’m fine.” I pressed a hand to my head. It had not stopped aching since the Oracle had rescued me from that nobleman. “Where are we?”
“Cerys is a muse,” he said, helping me to my feet. “But I’ve only seen her painted realms once.” He scanned the strange sky. “She must not have had time to complete the picture. Our subconscious filled in the rest.”
I brushed a hand against the flowers. “Are the wings yours?”
“Mm,” he confirmed. Fondness and grief underlined his breath.
His emotions were as intense as my own. A wave of nostalgia gripped me, as though I’d stepped through the threshold of my childhood home and smelled my mother’s baking drifting from the kitchen.
But so did grief seize me in its cold clutches. She had long since passed.
My head throbbed again as the well of emotions overwhelmed me.
“Cerys can’t hold this forever,” Seth said. “There should be an exit somewhere.” Turning his back, he followed the strange meadow of flowers, searching for the path forward.
The pounding in my head lessened, and faintness gripped me instead. Lifting my hand, I saw what I feared: my skin had turned translucent again, as though I were fading away.
Just as it had after I’d carved a path through the Empty.
My entire body flickered. The threads of my being unwound, like a shadow dissipating with morning light. Losing balance, I fell to a knee.
This time, the affliction lingered. I struggled to breathe, terrified I would remain this way.
Or worse—I’d disappear entirely.
Slowly, life breathed back into my lungs. My color returned, and the pain dulled.
I wrapped my arms around myself. If I kept using this magic, it was going to kill me.
Or something worse.
“Aethra?” Seth called.
Raising my head, I started when Phaedrus’ voice spoke inside it.
“Is everyone still alive?”
Seraphim’s voice followed. “I could have done without hearing you in here, again.”
“Sorry. Eleos fainted. I’m the only psyche left.”
“Is he alright?” I demanded.
“No,” Phaedrus answered.
That single word crashed into my skull like a heavy mallet. My breath came in ragged gasps.
“We need to regroup,” Seraphim said. “Where?”
Seth answered. He met my gaze while his voice rang within my thoughts. “The city of Ma’at. Nowhere is safe—but it’s the closest thing to.”
“And each of our groups has someone who knows the way,” Phaedrus agreed. “I can’t hold this any longer—best of luck.”
The connections snapped, and dread washed over me. I peered over the cliff-side, gnawing on my fingernail as I studied the abyss of shadowy snakes.
Their abyss reminded me of the Empty, but it was different, somehow.
I couldn’t put my finger on why.
Looking up, I traced one of the wings folding the sun in its embrace, and the feathers falling from the sky like rain.
Seth wrapped an arm around my shoulder and helped me up. “I’m sure Eleos will pull through,” he promised. “We need to worry about ourselves, now.”
“How many guards are going to be after us?” I asked.
“Considering no one’s escaped the Duat before . . .” He flicked his wrist, and a dagger appeared in his grip. “A lot.”
I chuckled, glancing down at my tattered gown as we walked. “I guess we’ll never travel in peace.”
“I don’t think I ever have.”
“Right. You were a prince. Maidens must have pounded on your door every night.”
“Not quite.” He glanced over his shoulder. “I wasn’t very social in my youth.”
I tried to imagine Seth as a child, introverted and shy, hiding behind his mother’s skirt.
An impossible thing to picture.
“Had a couple assassins, though.” He sounded chipper. “One almost succeeded.”
“Did he inspire you?”
“A little bit.”
Seth smiled with the words. Every time he joked or laughed, he was lying. I’d felt his true feelings when Phaedrus had forced them upon me.
Deep inside, he was barely holding himself together. A bundle of thread, about to come unwound.
“There,” he said, looking down the meadow’s slope.
The abyss rose from the chasm to swirl around a canvas embedded in a wall of shadow.
“And this is safe?” I asked.
“I don’t know where we’ll end up if Cerys loses this spell. Through here, we’ll go where she intended.”
“And where’s that?”
“We’re about to find out.” Grabbing my waist, he pulled us through.
I expected a fall, like before. But we stepped out onto a street blanketed by a night sky. The canvas disintegrated behind us.
Glancing up, Seth studied the dark walls around us. “Naunet,” he muttered. Eyes widening, he grabbed my wrist. “We’re in Naunet.”
“Where’s that?” I asked as he dragged me down the street.
“Where I left Whisper,” he said, pressing himself against the wall and peering around the corner.
I leaned beside him, marveling at the city sprawling before us, the enormous buildings reaching for the sky, and the thick flowering vines clinging to their sides.
Checking for onlookers, Seth slipped around the corner, keeping to the shadows as he approached a small stable tucked between two buildings. He grabbed the padlock and felt around his pockets for a pick.
“Let me,” I said, pulling out my hairpin and fitting it into the lock.
“I thought you were a thief with class.”
“It’s a useful skill for anyone to have,” I protested, pulling the padlock off and slipping the pin back into my hair.
Two horses were stabled within—one with a warm yellow coat and a flowing white mane.
“Athena,” I called, grabbing her snout. She shook her head happily, recognizing me. A furry mound of gray hair rose from the hay beside her and darted to Seth, who grabbed his dog in a tight hug.
“Alright,” he said, rubbing Whisper’s ears. “Maybe I won’t kill Cerys after all.”
Maybe I’d forgive her, too.
I slumped against Athena’s side, grateful for her support. Rubbing my weary eyes, I turned to Seth. “How do we get to the city of Ma’at?”
“It’s to the northwest,” he said, standing. “But we’re not going anywhere tonight.”
“But—”
“One night won’t get us caught. There are thousands of people in this city.” He winced. “And I need you to stitch this up.”
Riding with an open wound like that was a bad idea. Nodding, I ripped open Athena’s saddlebags and grabbed my pouch of supplies before poking my head outside to check for trouble. Seth slipped out behind me, touching my back to guide me toward the neighboring building.
The tiny, cramped inn illuminated by a dying fire felt like the comforts of a king after my time in the dungeons. Doing my best not to appear like a bandit from the night, I hovered by the fire while Seth approached the counter to ask for a room. He returned with a rusted key.
“We’re lucky. They have one left.” He jangled the key, frowning. “But it’s the smallest.”
“Does it have a bed?”
“I sure hope so.”
“Good enough.” Taking the key, I trudged up the spiral steps and found the room with the matching number. Fitting the key in, I pushed the door open and sighed with relief.
Cramped, dusty, barren. But there was a bed. Sitting on the edge of the cot, I patted the spot beside me and opened the small pouch where I kept spare medical supplies.
Eleos had insisted I never use them unless he was indisposed—an eloquent way to say he didn’t trust my skills half as much as his.
As Seth sat beside me, I grabbed the blood knife from his hand and shimmied behind him. He gasped when I ripped it through his tunic, carefully peeling off pieces of fabric that had gotten stuck to the wound.
He spoke to hide the pain. “That was my favorite. You owe me a new one.”
“You poisoned me,” I said, cleaning the wound as best I could. “Lied to me. Betrayed me.”
Nothing witty came in response.
Rubbing my eyes to keep myself awake, I threaded a needle and did my best to stitch the wound closed. My thread work was clumsy compared to Eleos’ neat stitches, but it would keep the gash sealed so long as Seth didn’t decide to thrash about in the night.
“You never apologized for holding me captive,” I said, focusing on the bloody thread. “I don’t imagine you’ll apologize for poisoning me.”