Chapter 34
The air shifted, cold, heavy, suffocating.
Dark clouds loomed in the distance, hovering over a barren land of skeletal trees.
The horses on which Adara and Dominic rode skidded to a stop, sand spraying beneath their hooves.
A white, gnarled archway sat a short distance away.
A thud sounded behind them, something within the caravan crashing against the wood and canvas covering as the horse halted abruptly.
A pained groan came from within the wagon. Caleb pulled the flaps to the side, hopping out, rubbing his head. “I take it that means we’re here,” he said, glancing between the skittish horses on which Ace, Tyson, and Desmond rode.
Adara’s brown mare bucked and whinnied its disapproval. She tightly gripped the reins, struggling to stay in the saddle atop the frightened animal. The moment their horses calmed, Adara and Dominic dismounted while the rest of the Andreilians exited the caravan to stretch their cramped legs.
Adara gazed through the arch at the desert spanning the horizon in front of them.
The sun was bright, burning. Sweat dripped down her face now that the breeze from riding on horseback was gone.
But in the distance, there was hardly a sliver of light beneath the storm clouds rolling in over the Ruins.
A chill went up Adara’s spine as she stared at the dark, dead remnants of what used to be a flourishing land, and recalled the stories Dominic had told her of this dreadful desert on the ride here.
The Ruins of Malryn was once considered home to two glorious kingdoms before the Wasted War.
Two centuries ago, war broke out among the kingdoms. The reason why had been lost, blurred throughout the years from different stories, so no one knew the truth.
In the end, both kingdoms had perished beyond repair.
Few were left behind after the war had ceased, struggling to survive in the land which had been destroyed.
The stragglers that remained built ramshackle villages.
But the land had been damaged, and crops could not grow.
There was no game to be hunted either, and harsh weather demolished their homes.
Some said they angered the gods by breaking out into a war that resulted in the loss of two mighty kingdoms, and the Ruins were made as a punishment for those who survived.
Now, the Ruins were nothing but a massive scar on this continent. A desert full of the remnants of long-forgotten people. A land the rest of the world was happy to dismiss.
There was no coming back from the Ruins, just as the two kingdoms at war could not revive themselves after battle.
Yet people were foolish enough to venture here in hopes of finding lost treasures and relics from the kingdoms whose names had been forgotten.
But there were only two outcomes for those who returned here: die, or survive without your sanity intact.
Rumor had it that the Ruins were haunted with the lost souls from the Wasted War and other ravaged creatures that had formed from some type of dark magic the gods had cast here—punishment for destroying the land Daichi had gifted the mortals.
If the monsters lurking didn’t kill your body, they certainly destroyed your mind.
The people lucky enough to return from the Ruins had gone mad.
In Tarin, Remaline, and Lykrios, the kingdoms made a law to execute anyone who ventured to the Ruins and returned, unwilling to let their cities be overrun by madmen.
Adara wondered which outcome she would end up with: death or insanity.
Would she even remember what she was fighting for if she survived?
She clenched and unclenched her hands at her sides, trying to keep them from shaking.
She would not forget. Alec, Draven, Kiara, Fallon, Cal.
She could never forget them, her people.
Dominic shot her a look that bordered between calm calculation and fret, as if he, too, had been thinking of how many ways this could go wrong and came up short with how many ways they could come out unscathed. He cautiously took a step forward. It was the first time she’d ever seen him hesitate.
Adara sent up a prayer to the gods, placing two fingers on her wrist to feel her pulse, then pressing them to the flame mark on her chest, and finally to her forehead.
Life, power, soul. May all of them be intact when I leave this place .
. . And Dominic’s, she added, knowing he would never pray to the gods.
Itryla al rone yi mon taka. Then she reluctantly followed him toward the dead land marked by the archway.
Each step felt daunting, straining. Their horses pulled against the reins and stamped their hooves, reluctantly following as the Andreilians tugged them onward.
Every instinct told her to turn back and run with her sanity intact.
But she could not give up. This was for her people, her friends, her family.
The Realm Fracturer was the only way she could return to them, to save them. She had to forge it.
They neared the border to the Ruins, marked by the arch, and Adara’s blood ran cold.
The arch was made of bones, gleaming white like they’d been licked clean of any piece of flesh that had been attached.
Carvings were etched into them. Turn back now.
It’s not too late to run, and other indecipherable nonsense that told Adara the messages had been scrawled after they’d come out deranged.
The Andreilians all halted in their tracks. “Oh, Hel no,” Caleb said, throwing up his hands and shaking his head. He turned on his heel and strode back toward the caravan. “No way I’m going in there!”
Tobias’s eyes followed him, torn between joining Caleb or braving the Ruins.
“Don’t be a coward,” Tyson spat, but fear flashed in his caramel eyes.
His head was angled down, strands of his blond hair casting shadows across his face, as if trying to hide his trepidation.
“We all survived the Plagued Sea, what’s a little sand to us?
” he said, with his hand wrapped firmly around his sword’s hilt.
“You’ll be lucky if it’s the sand that does you in,” Ace snapped, running a soothing hand over his horse’s black mane. “Suffocating beneath it would probably be a mercy compared to what else lies in there.”
“You’re sure the relic is in there?” Sawyer asked, his brows pulled together. He shook sand from his light brown hair before glancing down at Zephyr’s small frame hugging his side.
“Yes,” Dominic growled.
“I’m with Caleb,” Evreux said decisively and turned back to the caravan. “Besides, someone’s got to babysit.”
“I don’t need your protection!” Niran said, stern blue eyes settled on Evreux. “I may look fourteen, but I’m older than you are.”
“Yeah, we can protect ourselves,” Silas replied, standing up straighter, mustering all the confidence he could.
But his disheveled auburn hair and the dark circles beneath his green eyes betrayed him.
None of them had been sleeping well in the past days of travel.
It was cramped in the caravan, and the sand was cold in the frigid nights.
They stuck to eating their small rations of cured meat, but it wasn’t enough of a meal to give them the strength to trek across the scorching dunes, even with the horses.
Their long clothes protected them from the blistering sun, but the sweat sticking to them made for an uncomfortable journey.
The scarves they’d wrapped around their heads and faces could only shield them from the sand blown from the wind so much.
Their only salvation had been an oasis, where they refilled their canteens a few miles before they reached their destination.
“Not from this,” Tyson said.
“You’re still in the bodies of young teenagers,” Vesper reasoned. “There’s just some things you’re not strong enough for.”
“I never said any of you were going in,” Dominic said harshly.
Everyone’s shoulders slumped with relief—except for Adara, of course. She was going with him.
Dominic handed the reins of his horse to Vesper. “Head back to the oasis,” he ordered. “We will meet you there.”
Asher approached Adara, taking the reins that she’d been clutching tightly from her hands. “And what if you don’t?” he asked, terror and despair making his lips tremble slightly.
Ace’s eyes shot to his brother. “They will,” he insisted sharply.
Adara was grateful for his certainty, but she didn’t feel any of its effects.
“Give us two days,” Dominic said. “If it’s any longer, leave us.” A grim shadow fell over everyone’s features, but they all nodded in understanding.
Comforting arms pulled Adara into a tight embrace.
In the midst of the apprehension filling her head, she’d forgotten Asher was standing beside her.
She hesitated to wrap her arms around him.
The movements were jerky and awkward before she leaned into him.
They both rank of sweat and dirt but Adara didn’t care.
What if this was the last time she saw them?
This was not like the Whisperer, where they were enclosed in a small cave, knowing exactly what they needed and were about to face.
This was the Ruins. A volatile land of ghosts and demons that tore your body and mind apart.
Adara still didn’t know exactly what ashes they were searching for.
Dominic said the ashes were a sacrifice to forge the Realm Fracturer because magic always came with a price.
But what were they sacrificing in the Ruins? Their lives and sanity, she supposed.
“Good luck,” Asher said, stepping back to hold her at arm’s length. His blue eyes searched hers like he was trying to memorize every detail of her face, as if it was the last he’d get the chance to.
That only made her heart pound and stomach churn more.