1
Akra, Istmere
Present Day
Time is a funny thing…it passes in fits and starts, or sometimes, it passes all at once. For me, time felt infinite. How many days had passed? How many weeks or months had been eaten away by the passing of time since I had been locked in the Stormvault? Time was intangible, but it was also reliable in its passing. No matter how many times I scraped my dirty fingernails against the packed dirt floor of this cell, or paced the iron bars back and forth, time would pass.
The sound of the rats chewing away at the stale scraps of bread had me turning my head in the dim light of the cell, searching the darkness for Tess. I was faintly able to make out her sleeping form slumped against the cold concrete wall.
She was weak.
Too weak to bring the stale bread to her mouth to keep her strength up. Her clothes hung limply from her frame, her natural curves reduced to the hard angles of skin and bone.
I stalked towards the back of the cell, shooing the rats away and gathering the bread back onto the tray at Tess’ feet. The hollows in my own skin were more prominent than I’d ever thought possible, but I was not broken.
Not yet.
Each day I ate the stale and rotten food the Nightshade guards of Donika’s army brought us, and each day my anger and determination grew. The sensation of my magic swelling up inside of me was all but a forgotten memory at this point. I couldn’t remember the last time I had even been able to touch it. To sense its warmth under my skin.
But I was ready to call on it when the time came.
Because the time would come.
I had no idea how long we had been held captive in the Stormvault, but if I had to hazard a guess, I would say it may have only been weeks. Long enough for our clothes to fit loosely on our frames and for our skin to degrade to a lifeless pallor. Long enough for the dirt to cake under my fingernails thickly enough that it was merely second nature. Long enough to mourn the loss of my magic behind these iron bars. To forget what the sun felt like against my pale skin.
But not long enough to break me.
Tess stirred in her sleep, and I joined her on the floor of the cell, winding my arm through hers to hold her while she slept. To keep her warm. Nights in the Stormvault without windows and only concrete to surround us were cold and endless.
The rat scurried away now that I had removed the bread from its grasp. I felt—not for the first time—envious that it could crawl right through the space between the iron bars. If our food source continued to become more and more scarce, the thought might truly become a possibility for us. It had been a long time since Puck had been able to sneak down and bring us anything. We had to settle for whatever generosity Donika felt to bestow upon us.
I hadn’t seen Nik since that first day. The day I had seen him kissing Donika, and he had crawled down to the Stormvault to beg for my forgiveness. To profess he would do anything to gain my trust back. That everything he felt was real.
He hadn’t fooled me.
His absence was no surprise despite the skip my heart did each time the iron door to the Stormvault creaked open. Each time Donika brought us to the throne room to play with our minds or torture our bodies, his absence was a weight deep in my core.
How could he simply…disappear?
The fact that Puck had stopped his covert visits had me convinced something was coming. Donika must be tiring of her endless torture of us for the location of the Grimoire. Tess couldn’t give her anything, of course. I was the only one who knew its location.
A humorless laugh bubbled to my lips at the thought of it tucked away in my dresser drawer, not so expertly hidden beneath my underwear. How had she not sent her soldiers after it? It wouldn’t be that hard to find if they ransacked my family home. Was there a reason she hadn’t visited the human realm herself?
A bitter taste filled my mouth at the thought of Donika inside my home in the mortal realm. The unassuming stone house set at the base of the mountain where my practical, stubborn human mother raised me and my brother. I would never know my birth mother or father…Donika had seen to that.
The first few weeks locked in the Stormvault had my thoughts spinning about my Kotova lineage. I had always felt out of place in the human realm. I had always had a side of me that was drawn to the magic of this earth, and my mother had always dismissed it or downplayed it. Had she known who I truly was? That I was the heir to the throne of Istmere?
I was the daughter of Osiris, The Dark King who sat the throne of Istmere for decades. I was the daughter of Annelise, a brave and powerful Stormshade who would do anything for her children. I was the sister of Donika, the selfish and evil Black Heart.
I wasn’t Diana Barnes anymore.
I was Diana Kotova, lost heir to the throne, and I would stop at nothing to take down my sister. She had taken everything from me, and I would allow her to take nothing else.
Including my throne.
The taste of vengeance kept me going. It kept me from breaking, deep, deep, down in the cells of the Stormvault.
The iron door at the end of the long corridor squeaked open and the sound of a single set of footsteps filled my ears as Tess stirred beside me. I gave her a gentle shake, and she opened her eyes slightly, enough to see a tall man holding a lantern come into view.
It wasn’t someone I recognized, and I was sure he had never been down to the Stormvault before. His black hair was shorn against his head, and his bronze skin shone beneath the glow of the lantern. It took a few moments for my eyes to adjust to the brightness.
“Do you know who I am?” the stranger called out. His stance was wide, his expression skeptical as his eyes bounced back and forth between us.
“Should I?” I called back, my voice hoarse from disuse.
He took a step forwards and pressed his face against the bars to get a better look at us through the darkness. I wasn’t sure what he saw, but his eyes widened infinitesimally before he masked his expression once more.
“I am Zion. You have heard of me?” The question sounded rhetorical as he took a step back, his jaw set.
I had heard many of the Nightshade guards and soldiers mention a man named Zion. Fletcher had threatened to call a man named Zion as if he was in charge, back in the mortal realm. What was he doing here? Was this Donika’s last ditch effort to get us to turn over the grimoire?
“I have,” I replied curtly, setting my own jaw in return.
I would not be intimidated by one of Donika’s men. I had cried many tears in the privacy of darkness this cell offered, but I vowed I would be strong in the face of the adversaries I met here in Akra.
I would not flinch.
“Do you know who I am?” he asked, his voice insinuated he already knew the answer to this question.
“Should I?” I repeated, my chin held high.
“I am Donika’s father,” Zion breathed, lowering the lantern to the ground to better illuminate the cell.
That was…unexpected.
I met Zion’s gaze with renewed interest. This was the man that Annelise left to raise Donika on his own, or that was the story Donika told, at least. She had only returned to Zion when Osiris, The Dark King, had found out she was a Stormshade and banished her from The Stone City.
The man before me was distinctly not on our side, I decided. I immediately raised my guard. Tess was silent beside me, but I could sense the same resolution in the set of her shoulders and the stern expression she faced Zion with.
“What do you want with us?” I asked, uncomfortable under his heavy gaze.
“As you’ve already guessed, Donika sent me. You are running out of time. I advise you to give her what she wants, and fast. She grows tired of your games.”
“My games?” I asked, incredulous. I moved to my feet and brushed the dirt off the back of my weathered pants as I moved towards the front of the cell. “We are nothing but Donika’s play-things. Her prisoners. She is the one playing games with us. If she sent you to torture us, I’m sorry to tell you the effort will be wasted.”
“I cannot do any worse to you than Donika can herself. I simply came to deliver a warning. Donika gets what she wants, and she wants your family grimoire. I suggest you give it to her,” Zion replied, meeting my cold stare through the iron bars.
“I will take your suggestion under advisement,” I seethed. “You are her father, and I am sure the apple does not fall far from the tree.”
Zion swallowed hard before answering. “I loved your mother once.”
“And look where that got you,” I snapped back, grabbing the iron bars as I drew closer. Zion took a step back.
“You have your mother’s resilience, I see.” Zion’s eyes flashed with a long-forgotten memory as an expression of familiarity crossed over his face. It was as if he was seeing a ghost.
“My mother, who I will never get to meet because of your daughter. How can you defend her?” Did Zion seriously think I would simply hand over the grimoire after everything Donika had put us through? Because of the mention of a mother I never even knew? “I will never give Donika the grimoire. Whatever it is you have planned for us…give us your worst. You will have to kill me to get it.”
Zion laughed, the sound echoing off the cold concrete walls. I felt Tess’ warm presence join me, her hand against the small of my back. “That can be arranged. It’s as I thought…you are utterly and completely useless to her.” Zion gave us a cold sneer as he bent to pick up the lantern. “Two days. I suggest you be ready.”
Ready for what, exactly?
As I was about to open my mouth to ask, Zion turned without another word. I watched as he retreated down the corridor, taking every ounce of light with him.
“What did he mean ‘be ready.’ Be ready for what?” Tess asked, voicing my own thoughts.
“I’m not sure, Tess.” I swallowed hard as I met her gaze in the darkness. I was so, so tired. I couldn’t ignore the feeling in my gut that things were about to change, for better or for worse. “I do know one thing for certain…something is coming.”