Chapter 22 Aethra
Aethra
Istared up at the fort’s towering walls, remembering our entry into Serifos’ dungeon. That had been our first mission as a team—and the day I’d met Seth.
Holding up a lantern, Percy peered at me through the slits of his eye-patterned mask. Matching robes shrouded me, neatly obscuring my features beneath the unsettling gray fabric. Rain pattered from the heavens, splashing on the stone road beneath our feet.
Eleos followed behind us—a stranger in golden armor covered by silver robes. Having the Oracle as an ally was useful indeed—I only hoped she did not overstep her bounds.
A daunting task was set before us: we needed to access the armory unnoticed while also delivering the Oracle’s message. Fail, and the Oracle’s treachery would come to light.
Looking up through the pouring rain, I drank in the fortress.
It nearly looked like a castle itself—an impressive tower rose from the training yard, sealed in by ancient stone walls.
My eyes traced the fogged windows, remembering Seth’s directions.
The armory should be on the second floor, the barracks on the first. Avoid the third and fourth floors.
The chthonics would be drawing the men up there, away from us.
A Hades Knight departed the gates and approached us before we’d even reached them. Lightning flashed overhead, outlining his vulture helm in white.
“Your message had best be of use,” he snapped. “Or the commander will not be pleased with your lady.”
Percy sank into a deep bow. “It is of the utmost importance, your holiness. Commander Aeacus must hear her words with all haste.”
I bowed my head with him, praying no one would recognize the features behind our masks.
Breaking into Serifos’ dungeons had been dangerous.
This? This was suicide.
“Fine.” The Hades Knight nodded. “Come, then.”
Leading us back to the gates, he raised his lantern. A moment later, the heavy gates slowly cranked open, allowing us inside.
Pitch black surrounded us, save for the occasional torch. Rough dirt paths crunched beneath our feet, and I caught sight of the occasional training dummy or striking target. Eyes watched our backs—though I could not see the soldiers to whom they belonged.
Shoving the tower’s doors open, our guide led us inside. Eleos glanced at me, face hidden beneath his helm.
We’d need to shake our escort soon.
A fire raged in a central mantle, drenching the sandstone room with red light.
Several off-duty soldiers lounged in armchairs.
Free from their helms and gaudy armor, they looked like perfectly normal young men.
I glanced at one, who smiled brightly and laughed at another’s joke, joy glinting in his dark brown eyes.
How old was he, I wondered? One of the nobles, blessed with immortality, a member of a lesser family?
Or someone whose heart thumped with dread?
I wanted to reach out and see, but forced my head away. I couldn’t afford distractions—least of all the song of dread that had overwhelmed me twice, now.
Ignoring the halls leading to the bunk rooms, the Hades Knight led us up a set of stairs. The second floor was much dimmer, its lanterns doused.
Eleos spoke to the knight. “Does the commander think there’ll be more attacks like Apet square?”
“Almost certainly,” the Hades Knight replied. “They haven’t been so brazen in decades. Something must have them riled up.”
Not one note of fear quivered in his words. He strode with confidence and a tick of excitement.
In hundreds of years, not one uprising had succeeded—none had gone so far as to even muster an army to try.
No wonder he spoke as if it were a mere inconvenience. A break from the mundane. A chance to engage in real battle.
The Hades Knight spun on his heel, intending to shepherd us up the spiral stairwell to the third floor. I glanced around anxiously—the others needed to move, now.
Glass shattered somewhere above our heads, and the ceiling shook. Drawing his glaive, Eleos backed up, while the Hades Knight merely touched the pommel of his sword.
“What was that?” Eleos demanded.
I smiled beneath my mask. Eleos wasn’t a half-bad actor.
Staring up, the knight waited. A man shouted above our heads, but his words were cut off with a scream. The unmistakable sound of crackling fire roared to life.
Seraphim had arrived.
“Stay here,” the knight barked, drawing his blade. “You, with me,” he yelled at Eleos before charging up the stairs.
Perfect. I darted down the hall, grabbing a torch from one of the sconces. The fire guided my way as I retraced Seth’s directions in my head—turn at the pair of armored statues and find the black door.
Handing the torch to Percy, I tried the door before pulling out my hairpin and fitting it into the lock. Percy bounced nervously on his heels beside me.
“This feels familiar,” he whispered.
“Why?” I asked.
“You and me, inside a fort,” he shot back. “Moments before disaster.”
“You’re supposed to be the optimistic one,” I hissed, clicking the lock open.
It took both of us to push open the heavy door. Neat rows of crates and stands filled the chamber, storing spears, shields, and mail shirts.
“Wait for Cerys,” I whispered. “I’ll send the signal.”
Nodding, Percy ran deeper into the room while I slipped back outside. Grabbing a lantern from a sconce on the wall, I found the window Cerys had described—a thin pane of glass arched at the top. Holding up the lantern, I lowered and flared the light three times before ducking back into the shadows.
A portal would soon open in the armory. Percy could handle that.
Eleos and I needed to regroup for the next stage of the plan. Pressing myself against the wall, I hung my lantern back on its hook before I reached the stairs and sprinted up their length.
Smoke drifted into my lungs as I arrived on the third floor.
Seraphim’s fire raged down the hall, consuming a pair of curtains and a long rug trailing the corridor.
A scarlet blade whizzed past a door frame.
I heard the clink of steel and saw armored bodies tumble from one room into the other.
Scarlet vines retracted from their limbs and disappeared into the flames.
Shadows drew my attention from the fight.
A man ascended the stairs to the fourth floor. Gripping the banister, he leisurely strolled up their length, his deep sea blue cape trailing behind him.
I knew that gait. Ainwir.
The young man, Nehri, had been with someone in the market that day. Could it have been Ainwir?
I had to find out. This time, he had nowhere to go. No alleys to sprint down, no shadowy nooks to vanish into. If he was real, I would catch him.
Ducking into the stairwell, I flew up the steps, desperate to reach him before he disappeared.
The moment I reached the peak and stepped from the stairwell, heavy footsteps pounded toward me. I barely had time to turn my head before a bloody lion slammed into my chest, throwing me to the ground.
Snarling, scarlet fangs loomed an inch from my face, and I couldn’t move my shoulders beneath the press of its heavy paws. Blood flowed from its body and soaked into my clothes.
I didn’t care. Twisting my neck, I searched for Ainwir. The shadow I’d been chasing loomed over me, but he was not my mentor.
Commander Aeacus removed his helm as he knelt beside me, and for the first time, I beheld his face. From how Seth described his actions, I imagined a monster. Instead, a dignified face with noble features peered down at me, his dark hair kept short and tidy.
Behind him towered a statue of Haimyx, his scythe pointed toward the great window across the foyer.
Remembering my purpose, I blurted out a frightened plea. “Please, my lord, I bring a message from the Oracle.”
Narrowing his eyes, he gripped the hilt of his blade. “What’s going on down there?”
“I don’t know! Someone started attacking the men, our escort.”
The lion stepped off me, and Aeacus drew his blade. “The message can wait. Stay here.”
Nodding, I backed up, bumping into a wall. The commander strode past, placing a hand on the stairwell’s arch. But he hesitated.
“Your voice,” he murmured, turning back to me.
Before I could respond, he lunged toward me and grabbed my mantle, ripping it off my head. My curls spilled loose, and I saw my reflection gleaming in his ebony breastplate.
“You’re the girl they all rushed to rescue.” He scanned my face. “Though there’s nothing remarkable about you at all.”
Swallowing, I tried to think of something to say. My eyes darted to the side. A shadow leaned against the statue, watching us. Ainwir?
Or just another hallucination?
Aeacus followed my gaze. “You would not be the first to see shadows in this land between life and death.”
What? My gaze whipped back to him.
“A redhead with flaming blood.” He hauled me up by my neck. “A chthonic with scarlet eyes. I’ve heard tales of your companions.”
“You know who we are, then?” I choked. “Shouldn’t you be afraid? Knowing Set is coming for you?”
Hearing that name, Aeacus faltered.
“You deserve every second of torture he’ll inflict on you.”
“You think I fear the child I trained?” Aeacus leaned in. “Icelus was certain you were Elpis. The final Maiden—the only one who destroys and heals alike. I didn’t recognize it before. But there can be no mistake, now.”
My fingers curled into a fist. The other maidens could not destroy, as I could?
Snarling, the lion paced behind us, ready to pounce should I try to escape.
Through our mental bonds, I reached for the men below.
“If you want your revenge, Seth. Take it now.”