Chapter 27
Phoenix.
That name had only ever been spoken in fear and distaste. Yet the name rolled off Dominic’s tongue like he’d said it a thousand times, memorized every letter and sound, caressed each one with the gentleness of a lover’s touch.
Unafraid, he lay next to her. What a foolish mistake—to be sleeping next to the Phoenix, but also for her to be sharing a bed with the Thief of Hearts.
Yet he’d been the one to drift off to sleep so quickly, so at ease next to her when she could slit his throat without a second thought.
Perhaps it was the fact that they needed each other alive, but he didn’t run from the Phoenix like all the others.
She didn’t know whether to be comforted or disturbed. The latter would be the safest option.
Phoenix. Dominic’s tender voice replayed in her head, lighting a spark in her. Adara pressed her heated palms together, suppressing her magic along with her emotions.
She mentally scolded herself, annoyed at how easy it was for her to focus on how she adored the way her alias sounded coming from his perfect lips on his half-naked, toned body lying next to her.
Adara lay on her back, taking deep breaths as she stared up into the abyss, so dark without the candles that she couldn’t even see the roof above their heads—
Suddenly, she was back to sleeping on the cold ground beneath the starless sky, surrounded by shadows.
The longer she stared, the more labored her breaths became.
Closing her eyes did nothing to keep the monsters at bay.
How cursed it was to need darkness to sleep yet it was the reason she lay awake at night.
Eyes shooting open, Adara scanned the room for any source of light: a lit candle, the soft glow from the tavern below, a sliver of moonlight peeking through the curtains.
She would not light a fire in the hearth.
Even if she hated this suffocating dark, she refused to let Dominic see her fear, for it would surely wake him up. Anything, Adara pleaded.
But as usual, the gods ignored her. The cozy, wooden room had long since faded along with Dominic’s sleeping figure. Nothing but darkness surrounded her.
With every deep breath she took, her lungs felt more constricted, like she was breathing in black tendrils of shadow.
They wrapped around her lungs, squeezing tighter and tighter with every breath.
A serpent that constricted around her, suffocating, crushing until she fought no longer.
Her breaths quickened, anything to get more air into her lungs, to refill them and shake that shadowy snake from inside her.
It was to no avail. The shadows only crept closer.
Their aching caress traced the scars along her skin, tapping against her bones, clutching her heart.
Adara would have given anything to peel her own skin right off, just to reach inside her and slay whatever demon had slipped beneath.
The darkness pounced. Its screams pierced her ears, hands smothered her eyes, her face.
She tried to call for help, but all she could get out were weak, choked sobs.
Her hand reached out beside her for Dominic, but his presence was no longer with her.
It was her and the churning, writhing shadows consuming her.
She couldn’t breathe around the blackness gripping her neck, sliding down her throat, and into her lungs.
Was the world spinning, or was it just the shadows swirling in a viscous whirlwind?
Her stomach churned as the world tilted and turned, the bed slipping from beneath her.
Pain shot through her skull as she hit something hard.
Warm liquid trickled down her brow, like the shadows were licking at her face, her lashes, her cheek.
Tasting her, playing with its prey before it devoured her piece by piece.
The room lurched again, and she found herself in a dungeon. Dark and rusted and reeking of waste and death.
Adara reached deep inside herself, hopelessly searching for that fire within, but there was nothing to be found save for darkness and cobwebs and ashes scattered along her hollow veins.
The world continued to spin and dip and turn.
Out of the dungeons and into the meadow with blades of grass stained crimson like they were actual steel. Bodies lay scattered upon them, broken and bruised and maimed beyond recognition, but Adara knew exactly who they were: Callan, Kiara, Draven, Fallon, Alecsander.
Adara heaved in breaths, swallowing down the bile that rose in her throat.
Then she was back in the Jarkan Forest, something warm and wet sticking to her clothes, her skin.
Blood, she realized, marking it as the day she’d been exiled through the portal after the slaughter of her friends.
Their blood, thick and heavy and nauseating.
But this time, a timid yet friendly, blonde-haired healer did not approach her.
This time, the woman did not take Adara back to her cottage and fix her up.
This time, Adara did not make it through the night.
The shadows came for her in this world, too.
Slithering up to her like massive serpents, their maws yawning open, teeth sinking into her ankles.
Adara bit down on her lip so hard she drew blood, but it was worth it as it kept her cries at bay.
Her head pounded. Memories and hateful thoughts bouncing around her skull.
Dead.
They were all dead: Cal, Fallon, Draven, Kiara, and Alec. All of them dead because of her. The prophecy said she was supposed to save them. Save all the kingdoms . . . or be their destruction.
She failed them. Failed them all—the kingdoms and their people. Stormford and Thornrion and Ignatius and Lightholm and Bladesmirth. All the kingdoms—destroyed. All of Blemythia—destroyed.
Except for Zenura. The Shadow Empire would live on, and it would come for her again. It would come for the rest of the kingdoms in this world and those beyond.
Her head felt like it would explode, filling with dreadful thoughts and fears—
There was a light all of a sudden. A light inside her, small and dim, but there nonetheless.
Adara’s nails dug into the ground, ripping at the dirt and grass as that drevlic tried to drag her away by the ankles.
She reached, pulled, and dragged herself away from its shadowy claws and teeth.
She grasped onto that light and would not let it go.
I made it out, it said, pulsing with light. I made it to Andreilia. I drank the water. I am eternal. It pulsed, shining brighter with each thought that flooded into her mind. I made it to a new life, with new friends. I will find the Realm Fracturer and return home. Itryla al rone yi mon taka.
Life is a risk I must take.
I made it out. I made it to Andreilia. I am with Dominic. We are eternal.
I am prophesied to save Blemythia.
I am eternal.
Like a dam being broken open, blinding light flooded her mind. Shadows shrieked as they burned and shrank away until they diminished to nothing but ash, swept away on a phantom wind, and carried into oblivion.
Slowly, the light dimmed and faded, leaving her in the darkness of her room.
The room she shared with Dominic. But she wasn’t afraid this time.
Not as the Eyes of Elysian shone through the window, the curtains having been blown open somehow.
Adara gazed at the stars high above the moon and whispered a “thank you,” believing the gods had saved her.
Because she was weak, scared, and a pathetic coward, covered in her own sweat she’d mistaken for blood in her nightmare.
She lay on the floor, having fallen out of bed from her violent thrashing.
The hem of her nightgown was in charred tatters.
The skin on her arms and legs was red and blistered from the sweltering heat.
Assessing the damage, she knew that she would heal quickly, that she had gotten her magic under control before it could leave permanent damage upon her like it had on her hands.
Muscles aching, hands shaking, Adara picked herself up off the floor, blinking the tears away, blinking away the images of blood and darkness and death that intruded in her mind.
She hurried to the washroom as bile rose in her throat, knelt before the pot, and vomited.
She couldn’t stand the sight of all that carnage, the smell of such torment that had been permanently sealed in her mind. It felt so real.
She retched again, and suddenly, candles flickered to life in the room, and her hair was being swept back from her face. A soothing hand rubbed reassuring circles on her back.
“I’m sorry,” Dominic murmured, sliding a candle across the floor before her so she could see the light. “I forgot.”
Tears sprang to her eyes. Whether it was from shame that Dominic had seen her like this or from relief that someone had come to her aid, she wasn’t certain.
He said nothing more as she vomited again, every ounce of her body aching and trembling.
Said nothing as she rose on shaking legs while he braced a hand around her waist to support her.
Said nothing as he stepped toward the tub, turned on the faucet, and fetched a towel and soap.
Silence followed as he shot her a look—pity, concern, sorrow, Adara couldn’t tell.
“Please leave me alone,” she whispered, failing to keep her voice from wavering.
His only reply was placing the towel and a lavender-scented bar of soap beside the tub. Then he left, gently closing the door behind him.
She peeled away her sweat-slick nightgown and slumped into the tub.
She wasn’t sure how long she sat there, staring at the flames dancing on the candle Dominic had set at the edge of the washbasin, but when she returned to the bedroom, she was relieved to see Dominic’s eyes closed as he lay on his side.
Careful not to wake him, Adara slid beneath the sheets.
She faced him, but his back was to her. Adara’s eyes traced over the thick, jagged scars crossing over his muscled back.
Her fingers were a gentle caress, lightly tracing over the dips and ridges of his scars like they were a map that would lead her home.
She concentrated on the steady rhythm of his body rising and falling with each inhale and exhale, her breaths matching his.
With him in front of her, nothing else mattered. Not the darkness. Not the monsters she’d seen in her nightmares, poised to attack.
The real monster lay right in front of her, and she couldn’t help but feel comforted.