Chapter 1
Elsedora
Three years into the Sethe curse…
Ihacked back overgrown foliage to reach the cliff where a tomb should lie. Fenris flanked me, grunting with exertion as he pushed away thick branches with his forearm.
A vine-covered rock face greeted us, stretching up toward a blue sky framed by the jungle canopy. It looked like a pile of boulders, too steep to scale and too expansive to go around.
“Are you sure we’ve gone in the right direction?” Fenris questioned with a furrowed brow as a bead of sweat ran down his pale, freckled forehead.
“This should be it.” I sucked in my cheeks. We’d taken no wrong turns, traversing deep into the wilds outside of Laome, the East Corridor’s capital.
“Sources, it’s muggy.” Fen pulled his shirt hem up to wipe the perspiration from his temples.
“You know… Cassidee complains less,” I teased. The Constable of Luz, and my dear friend, usually tagged along with me—provided I was allowing company.
Despite being told to stay back in Luz, my dear brother insisted on coming with me. I’d find the relics quicker without him, but I enjoyed his presence, nonetheless.
“Did Isolde’s dusty old book mention this place?” Fen asked.
It had been three years since Caym’s army destroyed the amphitheater. I’d spent that time looking for the First Reverist’s lost relics, tools to wield against him when he inevitably rose again.
That book of prophecies had proved no more useful than a doorstop. “No,” I said as I searched the rock face for interruptions in pattern or cracks. “Asterie found records of a burial site here.”
I’d pulled on my leathers, ready to travel as soon as she had handed me a map.
Much preferring an active approach, I’d never been bookish. I relied on Asterie, Fen’s betrothed, to do the heavy reading. She enjoyed having her nose stuck in a book far more than I did. Where danger lurked, my mind had no time to wander or reflect on other matters—at least when I was alone.
Fen grumbled and combed back a mess of auburn hair—a family trait. It grew past his ears in the same way Papa’s had. I shook that thought away before the sadness could work a pit into my stomach.
I’d cropped my once-long locks to shoulder-length, having tired of braiding and fussing over my appearance. I’d tired of most things since that awful day in the amphitheater.
We approached the cliff wall, and with each step, my eagerness grew.
“Come this way,” I panted out, willing my legs to keep walking through the thick brush in our path. A breeze hit my back, guiding me forward and offering reprieve from the sweltering jungle.
My Source magic had finally appeared after being dormant for four centuries.
Served me right—I was routinely late.
I’d rolled my eyes when Asterie suspected my Wind had been stunted on account of mental barriers, not physical. The power had been with me all along; I’d just never listened to it. In my youth, when the magic should have risen to the surface, the trauma of losing my parents had interrupted it.
I shuddered and shook away those thoughts, too. If I kept moving, they would not catch up with me.
Not here.
Not now.
My focus needed to remain on finding the remaining two relics.
“Odd that a Phynnic Princess should choose such a remote location,” Fen thought aloud as he assessed for any entry points.
“Indeed.” I placed my hands on my hips, looking around for an opening in the rock. Secluded by miles of ungroomed brush and with the babble of a river nearby, this oasis seemed nothing more than a home to nature’s blooms and creatures.
But it should be here.
Our ancestors often sought peace in their final resting place. The openings to tombs were never easy to find and always riddled with perils—flooding, arrows flying from nowhere, walls caving in.
I’d seen many tricky obstacles within ancient ruins in my travels. My hope for this location sputtered out. It appeared the rock face was truly a dead end. I let out an exaggerated sigh.
Fen rested his hands on his knees. “We could always turn back and be in Luz before lunch is served.”
“What’s the matter, old man, growing rusty?” I jabbed. “You asked to join me.”
He huffed a laugh and wiped his brow with the back of his hand. “Maybe I simply wanted to bond with my estranged sibling. You’ve kept busy lately.”
Fen and I were separated for four centuries until recent years.
I shrugged. “Well, that can be done over a stiff drink with far fewer bugs around.” I swatted away the gnats swarming overhead.
Admitting that I preferred to venture out alone would only bruise his pride. There was solace in never needing to face conversations that required the type of reflection that ended in melancholy. Talking about the past held no appeal to me. We could not alter it—why dredge up those memories?
There were tombs to raid, caves to explore, and traps to avoid. Lingering too long on why angst knotted in my chest would do no good—not when vengeance may lie behind vines and dust-covered rock slabs.
“Krait hates when I go at this alone,” I admitted. “He hasn’t outright said it, but I know he worries.”
Fenris gave me a pitying look, which I loathed, and hummed a response.
“Yeah, yeah, I know you agree,” I grumbled.
“I’ve lost you once, Elsie,” Fen said, his tone turning pensive. “We have every right to worry about you.”
My attention locked onto the gritty, coarse stone before me. I’d go to the depths of the realms and skirt death a thousand more times if it meant that no more of my loved ones would fall.
I walked along the base of the cliff, taking in the divots and changes in texture of the stone. Grooves of sediment formed lines, and my gaze rested on a spot where that pattern seemed interrupted.
“It’s here. It feels important.” I narrowed my eyes on the crack. The wind urged me forward, causing my sweat-soaked tunic to cling to my shoulders.
Something slithered in the jungle canopy above, and the birds stopped their screeching, which gave me some reprieve to think.
“You’ve been pushing yourself rather hard. You can’t go on like this forever,” Fen pressed.
“Sorry, brother. Easy, breezy, happy-go-lucky Elsie wasn’t nearly as effective,” I joked. Some of my flippant qualities died when Ryn’s face crumbled to dust. My dearest friend, and often lover, deserved my grit in avenging his death, not the frivolity of my youth.
I’d never rid myself of those flighty qualities entirely. But lately, the roots of my soul sought dirt and begged me to slow down. But not yet.
“Krait doesn’t expect you to bring something home every time,” he insisted.
“I never return empty-handed, because I’m actually good at this job.” Though the jab was in jest, it also held truth. Fenris had worked for Krait centuries ago, and he’d been a far less successful gravedigger.
Fen playfully elbowed me as I leaned in to get a closer look at the crack.
Krait may forgive me if I returned with nothing, but I would lose sleep over it.
If I didn’t find one of Isolde’s relics, the least I could do was retrieve something of value. This was my way of contributing.
I could be careless about who I invited into my bedroom, or reckless in the places I visited, or unreliable about being on time for dinner. None of that mattered if I got this job right.
Returning without a sliver of evidence as to where the next relic might be always put me in a sour mood. During my last trip, I’d found an old set of maps tucked in the bony clutches of a demised King—one of them helped Asterie find this place.
Humming to myself, I bent and picked up a handful of red clay and then blew into my palm, willing the wind to carry the dust. It hit the wall, disappearing into the narrow crack.
I knew it! A relic could be within.
“There’s something here,” I confirmed again. “Teach me the Brennac opening charm you always used to get into Papa’s liquor vault.”
“Guilty, but never caught.” Fenris chuckled and stepped up to the place where the dust had vanished. “You sure? We don’t know what’s back there.”
“Oh, has love made you fearful of a bit of adventure?”
Fen scoffed. “Well, yes. I have something precious to lose. My nerves have gone to shit,” he said. “But fine. Repeat after me and direct your Source power just there.” He pointed to the crack.
As he spoke the charm, his words sang smooth, like warm butter across toast, while mine jutted along with his clumsily.
I held my palms toward the sliver of space, and as we completed the charm, the cliff shifted, parting at the center.
Swinging animals in the canopy above jumped and screamed, and the flap of wings gave way to the sound of grinding stone. The air filled with the sodden, musky scent of wet rock as a dark opening appeared.
So far, no traps.
“C’mon,” I commanded, motioning for Fen to follow me into the cave’s mouth. I swiped away a cobweb overhead as we entered the dank space, and Fenris lit a flame in his palm to guide us.
He glanced around. “I haven’t been on one of Krait’s little quests in quite some centuries. Go easy on me.”
“Just like riding a horse,” I mumbled.
An unremarkable cave lay before us, with a tall, dripping domed ceiling. The space extended into darkness, beyond what the eye could see. Things scattered and crawled above us as our boots splashed through shallow puddles.
I shuddered. Facing death traps? Fine. Facing spiders? Bloodcurdling.
“There, cast some light.” I pointed ahead. My other hand rested on a throwing dagger on my belt. I preferred lighter blades to heavy swords. I’d learned to let the wind carry them exactly where I chose. Not that I needed the wind. I’d always had spectacular aim.
Fenris’ fire lit the opening, revealing a staircase. Jagged stone steps led into the belly of the cave.
“Hm.” My mind churned through the possible threats.
Fenris took a step forward, but I grabbed his arm.