Chapter 25
Chapter
Twenty-Five
-brIDA-
My pacing grew relentless, each circuit around the cell more urgent than the last. The barrier’s glowing surface mocked me, separating me from the answers that Marsh held just beyond reach.
Dad. My throat burned at the thought. Did he even have a bed?
Was he kept in conditions worse than mine?
The vision had started with him as I remembered him—strong, steady, unyielding even in adversity.
But it had twisted, unraveling his strength thread by thread, showing me a man worn thin by suffering.
I stopped mid-stride, my pulse hammering in my ears.
It didn’t make sense. The Marsh I’d met in Lesalia, the one who had shared stories with me, encouraged me, taken me to the Pool of Vitality—he wouldn’t do this.
There had been a shift in him since Hadash.
But it wasn’t just change, it was a distortion: a complete inversion of the man I thought I knew.
The faint echo of footsteps interrupted my spiraling thoughts. The rhythm was deliberate, measured, yet eerily hollow—each impact reverberating off glass and stone like whispers in the dark.
He will not break me. The thought was less a mantra and more a desperate tether to the person I’d been before. Before this place. Before him.
The door groaned open, the sound scraping against my nerves.
“Good morning, Brida.” Marsh moved into the room with an air of unearned ease, as if the walls themselves bent to accommodate him. “You’re looking bright this morning.”
I tilted my head, letting the faintest ghost of a smile touch my lips. “Good morning, Marsh.”
Play the game.
His smile was sharp, like a blade drawn from a sheath. He stepped closer, his shadow pooling around his feet like it had a life of its own.
“You must learn the ways of the courts, Brida,” Alvar’s voice echoed in my mind. He had spoken those words during one of our lessons in Azmeer, his tone heavy with amused patience. “Lesson one: feign interest in everything, even if it bores you to tears or sets you aflame with anger.”
I could almost see him now, pausing mid-lesson to approach a cluster of magisters in the cloister nearing Vasenia’s halls. “Good morning, gentlemen!” He had boomed, voice swelling with false cheer. “Beautiful day, is it not?”
The magisters had glanced at him, each nodding politely, waiting for him to speak his purpose. But Alvar hadn’t been in a hurry. He stood with them, nodding at their explanations, engaging them with a warmth that belied his underlying calculation.
“So?” I had asked, “What were they talking about?”
“They’re discussing repairs to the foundations of Azmeer. They’ve noticed cracks forming in the cloisters. They fear it will spread.” His brow had furrowed.
“What do you plan to do about it?”
“What, indeed.”
Marsh’s presence yanked me back to the present, to the stifling room where his gaze lingered on me. The faintest flicker of unease rippled across his face, so brief I might have imagined it.
Whatever game he was playing, I had to play it better.
The chair in the corner offered a semblance of control.
With deliberate steps, I made my way toward it, lowering myself onto the seat and crossing my legs in an attempt to match Marsh’s ease.
My movements were calculated, my gaze steady.
Alvar’s words echoed faintly in my mind—a reminder of the delicate strategy required here.
Limited pieces or not, I would find a way to win this match.
Marsh raised a hand, his fingers slicing the air with practiced precision.
A shimmering door appeared in the barrier, folding open as though yielding to his will.
The movement was effortless, a quiet display of power.
All that remained within me was a spark of hope.
A fleeting thought that perhaps I would be able to mimic the movements, free myself from this cell, find my father, and find what was drawing me into the mountains.
He crossed through, his stride purposeful, and made his way to the bed. It dipped slightly under his weight as he sat, folding one leg over the other.
I will burn those sheets.
“Nice to see you so amiable this morning.” His voice carried a lightness that didn’t match the tension rippling between us.
I tilted my head, offering a brittle smile. “It is nice to see you at all. How long has it been since our last meeting?” The words caught in my throat, though I willed them to sound easy. My chest tightened, the pressure a reminder of just how unprepared I felt.
Marsh leaned back slightly, his expression unreadable. “Yes,” he muttered, wiping a hand over his face as though shaking off sleep. “I apologize, but I’ve been rather busy of late. Meetings. Hard to avoid.”
I let out a breath. “I can imagine.” It took all of my strength to remain firm. Stop myself from saying anything I would regret.
“A beautiful dawn, is it not?”
“A most beautiful dawn,” I echoed, though my words felt hollow. His gaze lingered on me, sharp and calculating, before he took a step forward. Then another. And then he knelt before me.
My breath caught. His eyes, so often sparkling with amethyst light, were darker now.
Shaking my head, I tore my gaze away. What’s this place doing to me?
“I wish to show you something, Brida,” Marsh said, rising to his full height once more. He extended a hand toward me, his palm open, warm.
Play the game. The voice—soft, unfamiliar—whispered in my mind. And I would. Slowly, I placed my hand in his. His warmth seeped into my skin, grounding me in a way I hadn’t expected.
“I think it’s time we go for a walk. We haven’t done so in some time.” With another wave of his hand, the barrier parted. For the second time since my arrival, I was allowed to step into the halls of the Court of Whispers.
The air outside was sharp and cool, a contrast to the warmth radiating from Marsh as he guided me through the corridors. “This is the first court I’ve seen,” I said without thinking. “I’ve yet to see my own.”
Alvar’s voice echoed in my mind, recounting tales of the Court of Shadows.
He’d described its molten walls, obsidian black with veins of fire running through them.
“A surprisingly tranquil place,” he’d said, his smile wistful.
“Though, of course, it is built into an active volcano. The theory is that it’s Vasenia’s magic keeping it bound, but we can never be sure. ”
The memory of Alvar’s teasing words flickered to life, bringing an involuntary smile to my lips. “It appears looming from the exterior, but it’s rather cozy inside. The rooms are spacious, plush, and the bedding—far superior to anything in the other courts.”
“Bedding? In that heat?” I had laughed at the absurdity, imagining heavy blankets and quilts in a place constantly surrounded by fire.
He’d winked, leaning ever so slightly toward me as we walked. “I’m not talking about what’s on the bed, but rather who’s in it.”
The thought was fleeting, chased away by the present as my attention returned to Marsh.
His silent stride matched mine, the tension between us palpable.
This was not Alvar, with his playful banter and effortless charm.
This was Marsh—a man who had once held the power to bar me from entering the Courting.
Now, he led me through a foreign world I couldn’t begin to comprehend, navigating a game where the rules seemed written in a language I did not understand.
“Is the entirety of the court made from glass?” I asked, my gaze sweeping over the translucent walls. Through them, I glimpsed council chambers, lounges, and rest areas, their occupants visible as they moved about. The design left me uneasy, as though privacy were an afterthought.
“The private quarters are made of stone,” Marsh replied curtly, his tone as cold as the glass around us.
The view outside drew my attention. The Tactras Mountains rose like jagged guardians, their snowy peaks piercing the stratospheric clouds that blanketed the Court of Whispers.
The sky beyond stretched in an endless kaleidoscope of shifting colors, a breathtaking expanse that felt impossibly vast. And a glow emanated in the distance, a melody humming in my ears.
Come to me, it whispered.
“It’s beautiful,” I said softly, my voice barely audible over the echo of our footsteps. “You must have loved growing up here.” Play the game. Get to the mountains.
Marsh’s expression didn’t change as he pushed open a door. “I don’t have many memories of that time.”
Inside the entryway, a sleek panel embedded with runes glowed faintly in the glass. Marsh approached it, pressing a series of them with a precision I couldn’t follow. A soft hum resonated, and the doors before us parted.
“What’s that?” I asked, staring at the small, enclosed space.
“It’s a lift,” he said, his voice clipped with impatience. “Get in.”
The nagging voice of caution stirred in my mind. Play the game, Brida. I stepped inside, forcing myself to feign calm as the glass enclosure sealed around us.
The lift surged upward, my stomach lurching while I grabbed the handles lining the walls for support. The ground below us blurred as the levels of the court disappeared, swallowed by the speed of our ascent.
“What exactly is this thing?” My voice betrayed my mounting panic.
Marsh didn’t bother looking at me. “I told you—it’s a lift. It lifts.”
I glanced down despite myself, regretting it instantly. The rapid motion beneath my feet sent a wave of dizziness through me. “How does it work?” I managed, my hands clutching the handles in a white-knuckled grip.
“It’s powered by the magic of the court,” he said, “created by Ollo. He was crafty. Infuriating, but crafty. The lifts are stationed throughout the court.”
“And it won’t fall?” My voice wavered, the words tumbling out before I could stop them.
Marsh finally turned his gaze toward me, his lips quirking into something almost resembling a smirk. “Not unless I tell it to. Which,” he added after a pause, his eyes locking with mine, “I won’t. Not today.”
The rest of the ride passed in tense silence, broken only by the low hum of the lift. When it finally jerked to a halt, I exhaled as the doors opened.
I stepped out cautiously, my shoes crunching against snow. The icy air bit at my skin, sharp and unforgiving. We stood atop the Tactras Mountains, the vast expanse of Eldara stretching endlessly below. The peaks, pristine and blindingly white, merged with the clouds on the horizon.
I shielded my eyes against the sun, which had broken through the thick clouds in a sudden burst of brilliance. “Why have you brought me here?” I asked, wrapping my arms around myself to ward off the cold.
Marsh ran a hand through his hair, his movements uncharacteristically restless. “Because you need to remember,” he muttered, his voice low and weighted with something I couldn’t quite place.
“Remember what?” I pressed, my words trembling along with my body.
He turned toward me, his gaze piercing, “The Dawn.”
“I grow tired of you speaking in riddles, Marsh.” My patience was wearing thin. Looking down at my hands, I saw a faint glow begin to emerge in my palms, a soft song on the breeze that caressed my cheek.
Looking to the distance, I saw that same glow.
Play the game.
A desire unlike any I’d known before, a tether and pull so taught, screamed at me to make my way towards it. To run, to somehow catch the light, immerse myself within it, as if it would be the solution to my bondage, the freedom I so desperately sought.
“Ilia,” Marsh said, eyes narrowing in on me. His tone was curt, unlike the gentle way in which Dainan said that name, Marsh’s voice was filled with disdain. “I thought your mother was the vessel, or could have been.” He said, taking a step towards me.
“How do you know that name?” The question was venom on my lips, a curse I wished to cast upon him.
Play the game. The voice said once more. I will not leave you.
You will not break. You are the wind, Brida. The sun, the sky, the earth beneath your feet. All of it is you, and you are all of it.
The coiling in my chest eased. Forming my hands into fists, I readied myself.
Marsh’s stride was measured, calculated, and purposeful. “Ilia was mine, and he stole her from me.” He said, closing the gap between us.
He will not touch me.
You will not break.
“Funny thing, fate. We can be destined for greatness, burdened by the tasks thrust upon us. But when we take fate into our own hands.” He clicked his tongue, “Ilia was mine. And will be mine once again. You will bring her back to me.”
Before I could move, before I could speak, Marsh was in front of me, one hand on my back, the other on my cheek, his warmth contradicting the frigid air around us.
“I knew you would come back to me.” He said, pressing his lips to mine.
I wanted to scream, but no one would hear me. He was a madman, delusional at best, and I was his captive atop the mountains in the Northern Ridge, where not a single person would witness this assault.
Play the game. The voice had said to play the game. I had, and it had brought me here. Trapped in Marsh’s embrace.
No more.
I was never his. Nor would I ever be.
Opening my eyes, I looked down at my hands. Two glowing orbs rested in my palms.
Now, Brida.
I tore myself from his grasp and shouted over the whistling wind, “You will never touch me again!”
His smirk vanished as he lunged for me.
Light slammed into his chest.
The explosion ripped between us—bright enough to steal the breath from my lungs. Marsh flew backward, thrown across the ledge toward the dark drop beyond.
Run.
My ears rang. Smoke curled through the air as I stared at my fists.
Run.
I looked toward the distant glow beyond the mountains—brighter now than ever before.
It beckoned with light and song.
I knew what waited for me there.
Now.
Lifting my skirts, I steadied myself and ran.