Chapter 8
W inter was on the horizon. Its frigid chill blew in on the steady breeze, disturbing the bright colors of autumn among the tall trees. In the distance, a storm rolled in from the west over a mountain that put Alynthia to shame. Its peaks so high that at a certain elevation, all life had ceased growing, leaving the sharp bedrock jutting through the heavy charcoal clouds.
Alora could smell snow. Almost taste it.
Fourtress.
A magical mountain plagued with four seasons that changed with no consistent timeline laid before them. Waiting. Taunting. Ready to swallow them whole and claim the lives of anyone who entered.
The tales were written that a once powerful being from the bloodline of Moon himself once made the mountain a home. Deep within its tunnels and layers, the stones hid great treasures. The being, careful to keep what he deemed belonged to him, had built-in safeguards and intricate pathways to keep wanderers out.
Or keep them locked inside forever, never to return home.
And they planned on walking right through the front door.
Excluding Eldacar, the Shadow Order had dawned as far as the warded landscape permitted a week later. Apparently, the being drew pleasure from surveilling intruders from afar. To see them struggle up the mountain before finding their fate within his maze.
But they had meticulously planned for this.
Alora had spent the better part of the week in Eldacar’s library not only practicing a new tongue but learning about starfire—or what little was known about it. The tomes and histories in his collection and knowledge revealed next to nothing of her powers. They only knew that the Evening Star herself had never blessed anyone with such a gift. If it wasn’t for Kerimkhar, they would’ve never known it existed within Alora.
Two moons passed, and shaking hands filled with embers had been enough to grab Garrik’s attention outside of the training arena.
She had been overwhelmed, confused, and struggling to control the raging fire inside herself.
Alora knew Garrik had powers of his own that had never been documented in the histories. And because of the similarity to his magic, they had realized quickly it ultimately would depend on trial and error—like Garrik. Even he didn’t know of the capacity of his powers, though he still pushed them to their limits. But acknowledging all of that hadn’t helped soothe her.
That simple fact hadn’t snuffed out her embers as she had stared at her hands. Not until the icy chill of Smokeshadows had tendriled around her fingers and danced with her flames.
The stars in the blaze had tangled with the darkness like a night sky when he’d softly spoken and consoled her. Calming her. Promising he would help her discover what she could do.
They would do this together.
The starfire. The darkness. Fourtress. Soulstryker. Blood.
All of it. Together.
Stairs. Of course it had to be stairs.
One long crumbling staircase stood between them and the entrance to Fourtress. The steps so high and so many they couldn’t see where they ended. But Alora’s boots wouldn’t move another inch. Ten more steps across the loose stones and she would need to make a choice.
Out of everything, the one thing that left her in a chokehold, frozen to the dirt, was … stairs.
Not a horrific monster dripping with vile poison, not a wolf that could change its size—or even a dragon.
Stairs.
How incredibly pathetic. A dark voice snickered.
Terror gripped her for a moment, fighting off a traitorous quiver as Kaine’s voice rocked through her every nerve. She willed her eyes to move. To search for him. Desperately hoping her mind was only playing tricks because she had left him with his head smashed inside the Dawnspace, hoping to never be haunted by him again.
Sapphires ruthlessly scanned, looking across every cracked stone, every surface, every blade of dried grass. When her eyes dared to roam up each daunting step, a vicious shudder ripped down her spine.
Ebony hair. Mahogany eyes.
Kaine’s illusion stood twenty steps high. Waiting. Fists balled and smiling wickedly.
Once, terror had gripped every bone and lit her nerves aflame, now it only sent a short-lived shock across her body. Her neck straightened, imagining an iron rod through her spine as she lifted her head like a queen regarding her court.
Alora’s eyes narrowed, embers warning to burst inside them, and she gritted her teeth with strength that threatened to crack them.
She would not be afraid. Never again.
Stay the hell out of my head.
His wicked voice snickered again.
Alora’s fists balled. Embers sparked inside of them.
But an icy hand palmed her shoulder, causing her to release the tension building, extinguishing a forest fire boiling to be unleashed. Dampening the urge to burn the entire mountain down and make good on her threat in the Dawnspace.
She looked at Garrik with fire-filled eyes for strength and immediately felt the gentle caress inside her mind when she looked to Kaine.
Garrik’s eyes darkened, pivoting from her to the hewn stairs and scanning each step as his glowing silver slowly cascaded into darkened night. He focused on the step where her enemy stood with a bloodlust she hadn’t often seen and said, “He is not here, Alora. He cannot hurt you.” Garrik turned to her and blocked her view.
“I know,” she whispered, meaning it, as Aiden and Thalon’s voices traveled closer. They would be there any moment. They would see her hesitating. See her momentarily frozen at a starsdamned illusion that she had promised herself she’d never let control her again.
A warm tear dripped down her cheek. Not from fear. Not from embarrassment or stubbornness, but frustration. She should be over this by now. Should have moved on. Why wouldn’t he just stay away?
Progress is not linear, Garrik reminded her, taking a step down to draw closer to her. His hand brushed up his abdomen, and she took in a steady breath at his personal reminder.
Garrik opened his mouth to speak again, but footsteps beside her drew their attention instead.
“Stairs. They’re always up to something.” Aiden’s grin was cunning.
Alora rolled her eyes and loosened a breathy laugh.
“Last one up washes my boots for a month!” And with a quick smack of his boot on the first step, Aiden bounded up. Thalon, with his golden sword and Jade carrying a backpack, followed close behind, taking more steps and at a quicker speed than their half-human brother.
But Garrik didn’t move. His fading eyes were set on the shake in her hand.
She looked down, enclosed her fingers inside a quick fist, and flexed the ache from them.
Garrik stalked to the wall of bedrock below the first step. His shoulder leaned against the stone with his arms crossed, and he made a sound of uncertainty. “I am not convinced my legs can make the climb. Perhaps there is another way up.” Loud enough for everyone a hundred steps high to hear.
Alora flashed him a skeptical half-smile. She’d seen him training in the annulus for far longer than it would take to climb this mountain. Unless injured, stamina and strength didn’t seem like any issue for him.
Jerking his head to point at his Shadow Order racing up, Garrik added, “They can handle finding the stone. Would you like to return to camp with me?”
Alora shifted, digging her boot tip into the dirt. “You want to go back?”
“I am accustomed to dawning.” He shrugged. A wry gleam flickered in his eyes. “Two steps and I will likely be begging you to carry me. I will feel dreadful traveling alone. Probably find myself lost.”
The roll of her eyes could have summoned a mighty wind. “What a shame.”
“Indeed.” He smirked.
High above, Aiden squealed before fumbling on his hands and knees. Jade smugly stepped behind him, boot tip pressed into Aiden’s heel, forcing his boot half off.
Thalon simply jumped over the obstacle, taking first place in their youngling-ish race. Through curses and one guttural sigh from Aiden, Alora smiled.
“Wimp.”She pivoted to Garrik, who shook his head, looking up the staircase.
Side-eying her, he merely grinned. “Terribly so.”
Alora trembled a footstep forward, inhaling deeply. It was then she realized Kaine’s illusion was gone.
So, she stepped again, fighting off the flood of memories as her boot touched the first blackstone surface. Not bloodstained marble. Blackstone that held tiny cracks and chisel marks. Blackstone that bore chips of pebbles and dying plants between each crevice.
Another step.
Then another.
Each step sent pricks through her nerves as her mind refused to look up. Refused to take her eyes off the step she was about to press her foot against until she was on the fifth, then seventh, then ninth.
Her shaken voice, calming, called out, “What will Elysian think when they find out our High Prince is subdued by stairs?”
Step thirteen.
But Garrik was silent.Not even a footstep echoed behind her.
“Still down there, mighty prince?”She continued upward despite a nervous tremble in her legs.
His warm voice carried, and she heard his smirk laced within the words. “Apologies. I was distracted. My legs might not be that strong, but my eyesight is impeccable. What a view.”
She whipped around, sapphires so wide the whites glowed, glaring ten steps below.
Garrik wolfishly grinned up at her as he bounded up six steps, two at a time, until he stood on the same as her.
“Sore already?” he asked, beaming. “If so, I am certain I could work out a few of your kinks.”
“I hate you.”
“You would not hate what I have in mind, darling. A few more steps and you will beg me to rub you down.”Pure, primal male eyes raked her head to boots.
Alora cocked her hip and crossed her arms. “ Bite me ,”she challenged.
Garrik’s smile widened, eyes darkening with predatory intent. They seemed especially brighter when they found hers. The silver glow radiated like crystals under direct sunlight. He didn’t break his stare for a moment as he took a measured step toward her.
She staggered back, only to brace herself against the hewn wall. His power surged in the air between them. She could feel it as Garrik advanced again, closing the small distance between them. So close she glimpsed the fine line, almost perfectly healed, of the wound Soulstryker had made. So close that the scar on his neck was no longer a shadow but a raised ridge. Long and brutal across the side of his neck.
The artery unusually pulsed below.
Alora’s heartbeat quickened.
His metal and leather scent carried on the winter breeze, threatening the little nerve she had remaining. And she became painfully aware of every vein and every rippling muscle in his arms as his broad hands cautiously laid against the stones beside her taut shoulders, caging her in.
“Are you asking me to put my mouth on you?”Did his voice always sound that deep—that low—that eager that it reverberated through her entire being?
Impossibly bright eyes fell to her lips and traced steadily over her leathers, brushing up the warmth of her neck, her jaw, until it was her eyes he captured. His mouth twisted into a feral grin.
Was she still breathing?
His mouth. She willed herself not to swallow at the thought of all the places he could put it. The places she wanted him to put it.
Alora inhaled deeply. Her chest rose, almost brushing his. She followed the open collar of his tunic, not a speck of dust or dirt on the fabric. Greedily, her eyes trailed over the swells and dips of his muscles and scars from her starfire. Until her eyes hovered at his lips and her heart jerked, remembering how they felt utterly perfect against hers before he sought out Kerimkhar.
Garrik’s eyes went lazy, and she almost melted into the stones at her back.
For a moment, she wanted to allow him to take her lips. Explore inside her mouth and dance his tongue with hers. Such time had passed since she allowed herself to even consider, to actually desire like this. To want and even need it.
His intoxicating voice flowed across her mind. All you have to do is ask.
Was she asking?
In her hesitation, Garrik drifted away, his scent receded as his hands lifted from the stone wall. But Alora’s hand swung out and grabbed his side. His gaze cocked low, staring at her handhold as Smokeshadows danced around her fingers and misted away.
She could have sworn she heard him stop breathing as her other hand gripped his tunic collar and pulled him until his hand delicately caressed the side of her neck, tangling in her hair. The other planted above her head, tethering him to the stone wall.
Every sound silenced, as if Garrik was the only thing on the entire mountain.
He trembled under her touch, but slowly he lowered his head and brushed her neck with his lips. They remained there, tickling her skin with a cruel and perfect movement as he whispered, “What would you like, darling? Ask me.” It sounded more of a desperate plea. His lips traced her jaw, and she gripped his tunic tighter, pulling his chest to hers.
Warm tears threatened to form when his thumb tenderly brushed her chin. His lips teased the shell of her ear, and she heard a pleasured hum from his throat.
Alora’s eyes closed as she stretched her neck, offering more.
“Ask me,” he breathed. Another plea.
“Do you want me to beg, High Prince?” Her voice airy, longing.
But Garrik’s breath fanned across her neck as he gently pressed a kiss there. “I never want to hear you beg. It is I who will be begging.”
Alora released a soft moan, her hips greedily pressed into him, feeling him hard as steel under his pants. The mere thought of his desire sent a leaping ache tearing through her lower stomach.
That hand above her on the wall drifted down to her waist, wrapping around to the small of her back, before his thumb stroked her. His hand pulled her closer to him until it was impossible to deny he was enjoying her touch.
Garrik’s nose brushed hers as his lips opened dangerously close. “Fuck, Alora. I?—”
Before he could finish. Before she even thought of doing so, her lips stole his. The movement was as simple as blinking. Garrik’s lips were everything she remembered them to be: feverish, slow, demanding.
All-consuming.
He groaned.
The sound was so guttural it had her grinding her hips against him. Had an undeniable stroke of desire sending heat fluttering between her legs.
The hand draped across her neck and tangled through her hair pulled tighter, and she brushed her hands across his chest, gripping the fabric so tight he wouldn’t be able to leave. And she didn’t want him to.
“You are exquisite, Alora,” Garrik breathed. His lips and teeth grazed her neck, sucking softly.
Alora tilted her neck and faced the autumn sky. But her lips became jealous of the attention her neck received, so warm palms lifted to his face and pulled him back.
Garrik yielded to her touch, but his kiss was nothing short of desperation as his tongue slipped inside, tracing every curve of her mouth.
And she thought it such an erratic sensation; how utterly freezing he was against every burning piece of her. Inside her mouth and everywhere, his body ground against her. She wondered if that was how he would feel inside her too. Thrusting to the deepest parts of her. Long and slow strokes, drawing out a pleasure she’d been denied. Wondered how his hands would feel across every bare inch of her. How each beat of their hearts would dance to the same rhythm. Until his thrusts would become more desperate. And he wouldn’t stop until her starfire returned to the stars as she shattered, and he would crash into oblivion with her.
Before she could protest against her traitorous hand, it drifted down his body, lower and lower and lower. Garrik’s abdomen trembled at the touch, but he didn’t pull away. Not until her hand stopped at leather and she realized she had touched his belt.
But he still didn’t pull away. Garrik only pressed her harder into the stone wall, trapping her hand there, and kissed her wildly.
The next sound from his mouth was a pleasure-filled curse. Garrik shuddered beneath her touch. The hand on her back drifted to her waist and squeezed her tight. “We should stop,” he breathed against her lips. But his hand betrayed him too, brushing along her waistline. His voice turned into something unlike him as he moaned, “ Starsdamn , Alora?—“
“Are you two coming?”
Their embrace broke in a startled jolt. Garrik stepped away, leaving her breathless against the stone wall as he adjusted his belt.
Thalon leaned with his back on the hewn wall, head turned away, a hundred steps above.
Blood rushed to Alora’s cheeks. Oh stars. Had Thalon seen?
Garrik’s face had shifted from lazy half-lidded desire to that of her High Prince. She noticed him pluck the fabric of his tunic and pause before his hands fell to his side. The hands that had threaded in her hair and caressed her now gripped the pommel of his sword. The other found his hip as he deeply inhaled, and ordered, “Go along ahead, Thalon. I required a moment. We will be up shortly.”
Thalon held his stare forward and nodded. Their Guardian needed only the quick twist of his body to begin climbing but hesitated to take a step, throwing a withering glare over his shoulder.
Garrik’s face shot up at him, body rigid before squaring his shoulders.
Alora noticed Thalon shift uncomfortably, rubbing a hand across the back of his neck and disturbing his Earned before he nodded, then began his ascent once more.
Garrik pivoted to her.
Alora’s breathing had slowed, but her heart still hammered against her ribcage while her lip curled between her teeth.
The look on Garrik’s face … how his hand carefully lifted to her cheek and stroked it so tenderly. A lover’s touch. “To be continued, Ara darling.” A promise.
Garrik breathlessly smiled. Not his usual teasing smirk but a true, rare smile. One that covered his face when he had forgotten who he was supposed to be. The High Prince of Elysian.
His hand fell, lacing strong fingers between hers.
She squeezed him back.
“Shall we?” Garrik’s eyes drifted to the endless staircase.
And in that moment, as Alora took a brave footstep onto the next stair, she decided that maybe …
Just maybe …
Stairs were not entirely terrifying after all.
Garrik waited for her on the last step, hand outstretched, gleaming with the sun’s glare casting golden shards of light around his figure.
And as she took his hand, a whoosh of relief hurled from her lungs when she saw her friends sitting and leaning against half-dried-out evergreens at the edge of the cliff. Heard the bickering voices of Jade and Aiden, and a deep guttural laugh from Thalon goading them on.
Alora couldn’t help but smile.
In front of them, the endless staircase transformed into flat bedrock. A glassy wall of navy-amethyst stone waited with a carved golden door resembling those of grand temples and places of worship. Its door, golden and glimmering in the Autumn sun, was canopied by a carved triangle peak housing a night sky.
Moon—the second Celestial ruler of night—was the focus, beside a star so lovely it could have been mistaken as an equal to Moon’s right. And to the left, Moon’s glow fought against whorls of Darkness.
The clouds gathered around the sky-high gray peaks and threatened a distant snowfall. By speculation alone, they didn’t have much time before the sky yielded harsh conditions and trapped them inside for hours—possibly days.
Aiden’s hair rustled in the stiff wind as he spoke to Jade. “You know, this place is almost as cold as your heart. Give it a few hours. The blistering cold will be a perfect match.” His cheeks swelled tauntingly to his eyes, causing wrinkles in the corners.
Jade cocked her head and sarcastically smiled; mischief set in her glowing green eyes.
One second, Aiden stood at the cliff’s edge grinning like a youngling who was watching a sibling receive a scolding for a scheme they concocted. The next, Jade turned to Thalon, who nodded his approval.
She spiraled into a crouch, boot colliding with Aiden’s feet.
Aiden shrieked as he fell, reaching for Jade, who outstretched her hand and clung onto the collar of his shirt before he tumbled over the ledge. With a reptilian grin, Jade leaned forward and whispered something. Her palm smacked into his chest, releasing him from her grip.
He flew backward, screaming out of sight.
Panic wracked Alora at the same time Thalon pushed from the evergreen, laughing hysterically as an impressive spiraling thunderstorm and incredible strikes of lightning formed in front of him.
But it was Garrik’s heavy sigh that stopped them from moving.
Instead of shadowing himself over the ledge, he irritably shook his head at the sky like this had happened before, and with a twist of his wrist, Smokeshadows appeared. They misted away—ten feet high—before dropping a screaming Aiden, with arms and legs flailing, on his feet.
Aiden stopped screaming once he realized he was on solid ground and whipped his head to Jade, screeching, “ You ! Threw me off a mountain !”
Jade crossed her arms, leathers groaning as she grinned something utterly wicked. “No, I pushed you.”
“The most deadly warriors in all of Elysian, huh?” Alora raised her eyebrow.
Garrik only shook his head. “Can’t take them anywhere.”
The door awaited.
Garrik was the first to move toward it. Shadows whorled around his next step, engulfing him in cloud and ash. The tendrils parted as he walked from it, now adorned in battle leathers as those enchanting eyes pondered over the details etched into stone.
But it was Aiden who touched the door first, pausing as a surge of air blasted out of the crack and disturbed their clothing and hair. Aiden’s face turned ashy, peering into the darkness. The distant rhythmic drip of water carried with an eerie echo deep inside.
Aiden stepped away, mouth twisted as his ashy skin paled a shade lighter. His gaze swept between the door and the group before his eyes met Jade. Unease clung to his face—a youngling afraid of a monster in the dark.
He straightened as he swallowed and removed his tricorn hat, bringing it to his heart. Aiden bowed at his waist and gestured his hand to the door with a smile at Jade. “Ladies first.”
Jade rolled her eyes, knocked her shoulder into his as she stepped forward, and said, “You’re an idiot,” and disappeared into the darkness.