Sunlight.
That was the first thing I noticed when the thick, swirling mist slowly scattered as we traveled down what sounded like a stone road. It had been so long since I’d seen the sun. Felt its warmth on my skin. I looked up, eyes stinging from the brightness as I lowered my hood. The sky was painted in shades of vivid blue and soft white, but there was no sun, and as the Primal mist continued to drift and fade, lush, rolling, green hills full of trees with purple and pink blossoms trailing down to the ground became visible. The landscape looked like a painting. There were no people. No homes or any other signs of life. My grip firm on Gala’s reins, I glanced down. My brows shot up at the sight of the sparkling road.
“Are those…diamonds?” I asked.
“Crushed diamonds. The Vale was formed by the joyous tears of the most ancient Primals and gods,” he said. “You’ll find them just about everywhere here.”
I looked over at him. He was grinning at me, and I didn’t think he’d stopped since we’d left Nyktos at the crossroads. When I thought that Nyktos had possibly wanted to kiss me goodbye, and somehow felt that was almost as good as him doing so.
Nektas was still grinning. “Shut up,” I muttered.
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You didn’t need to.” More of the mist cleared. The diamond road appeared endless, snaking through the grassy hills and the heavily blossomed weeping trees, their hanging branches nearly reaching the ground.
“I didn’t know you could read thoughts.” I shot him an arch glare.
His grin didn’t fade, not for a second as he drew his steed closer. He was only quiet for a few moments. “Is it true? What you told him at the crossroads?”
My face warmed, and it had nothing to do with the sun. I still couldn’t believe that I’d blurted that out. But I had, and I couldn’t exactly say I regretted it. Maybe I’d been wrong to think it was better if Nyktos didn’t know. “I did,” I said finally. “I meant it.”
We rode on for a few paces. “You care for him.”
It wasn’t a question but a statement of fact. Truth. I opened my mouth as I glanced over at him, my stomach tumbling as if I’d slipped from Gala
—from the horse Nyktos had gifted me. “I do,” I whispered.
That grin remained as he arched a brow. “I know.”
“Well, glad that’s established.” I cleared my throat, facing the road. “I knew that before you were ready to admit it to yourself.”
“Congratulations,” I muttered.
“Why do you think I told you to go to him when he needed to feed?” he continued as if I hadn’t spoken. “I knew you needed to help him. Not wanted. Not because you felt like you had to. But because you needed to.”
“Did you smell that on me, too?” I asked with a sigh.
Nektas snorted. “I saw it when you couldn’t answer if you would’ve followed through on your plan if you had learned it wouldn’t save your people.”
The breath I took was thin. That question had left me as uncomfortable then as it did now. “I still can’t answer that,” I admitted hoarsely. “Part of me says yes because I would do anything to save Lasania. Anything. But the other part says no. But if I had, there would’ve been no need to kill me. I think that…that would’ve done the job for you.”
I could feel Nektas’s stare on me. “If that is the case, then I’m more right than I even realized.”
I shot him a quick look, but he was now staring ahead, his brows a dark slash across his forehead.
“You know,” he began after a couple of moments of silence, “I also took you to him that night because I knew he wouldn’t hurt you.”
My stomach gave another tumble. “But you thought he would hurt me the night in the Dying Woods.”
“That was different. When the Primal takes their true form in anger, they are not themselves. They become anger and power and can lash out.
And while I knew he wouldn’t harm you in anger as he is usually, I didn’t know what he’d do in that form.” His gaze touched mine. “But now I do. He stopped himself. Not because I was there. He could’ve fucked me up. He stopped himself. Now, I know.”
“Know what?”
“That what he feels for you goes beyond fondness. He cares for you.” “I…I know that, too.”
He was quiet for a bit. “You know what he did to himself? And why?”
Swallowing hard, I nodded. “He had his kardia removed because he didn’t want love to become a weakness or to be weaponized.”
“You’d think it’s because Ash doesn’t want to become his father,” he said after a moment. “Eythos changed after he lost Mycella. He was still good, but he lost most of his joy when Mycella died. If it hadn’t been for Ash, I think he would’ve wasted away until he slipped into stasis.”
I wondered if that was the same for Nektas. If it weren’t for Jadis, would he too waste away?
“Ash grew up seeing that loss and sadness every time he looked in his father’s eyes. He felt that himself, never knowing his mother’s touch or hearing her voice,” Nektas said. “But Ash doesn’t fear becoming his father. He fears becoming his uncle.”
I jerked. “He could never become Kolis.”
“I don’t think so, either, but even I never expected Kolis to go to such extremes.” There was a pause. “He was never like Eythos. A bit more reserved. Colder. Preferred solitude. Part of that was because of what Primal essence coursed through his veins. He is Death, and Death does not want for company. And as Ash grows older, I see a bit of that in him already,” he said, and my heart seized. “Life and death are not very different. Both are natural, a necessary cycle, for there cannot be life without death, but where Eythos was celebrated and welcomed, Kolis was feared and dreaded. That would foster jealousy in the best of us, and he was jealous of his brother. Still is, even now.”
Nektas laughed without mirth, shaking his head. “But it wasn’t until Kolis experienced love and loss that he changed. That he began to become what he is today. Love can breathe life and inspiration into one, and the loss of it can rot and taint the mind of another. That is what Ash fears most.” His gaze found mine again. “Loving someone. Losing them. Then becoming something even worse than Kolis.”
I swallowed, finding those reasons even sadder. “But we’re talking about caring for another. Not loving. Those are two different things. And I know it’s impossible for him to feel such a thing.”
“Are they that different?” Nektas questioned. “Because we’re talking about the kind of caring that allows you to put yourself in harm’s way for the one you care for. That doesn’t stop you from feeling, even if you believe those emotions won’t be returned. Even if you know the risks. Yet, you can still find peace.”
“He cannot love me.”
“I’m not talking about him.”
I jerked again. “I-I don’t love him,” I denied, but the words rang a little hollow. “I don’t even know what that feels like.”
“Then how do you know?”
I snapped my mouth shut. A strange, heady mix of emotions swept through me, and I felt like I was falling and flying at the same time. “I can’t think about this.”
“Why? Because you fear that you love him, and he can’t feel the same?”
“No. It’s not even that. I don’t want to think about it because it terrifies me,” I admitted without shame.
“As it should.”
I cut him a sharp look. “That’s reassuring.”
Nektas laughed, and I kind of wanted to hit him as I looked away. I didn’t want to even think about the idea of love. It was easier to acknowledge that I cared for Nyktos. Cared deeply. But that wasn’t love. And this was a conversation I didn’t want to continue.
I glanced over the hills and the pendulous branches full of flowers dancing just inches from the ground. “Does the entirety of the Vale look like this?”
“Some common areas resemble this,” he answered. “But for the most part, the Vale is ever-changing, accommodating a soul’s ideal paradise and becoming whatever they desire.”
“Wow,” I murmured.
“All aspects of a soul’s needs and wants are met in the Vale, even what they see. Arcadia is much the same.” He shifted on his saddle. “Look to your right and up, toward the skies. Do you see it?”
I followed his instructions, squinting until I saw shimmering mist gathering along the hills. “The mist?”
“It’s called the Shroud,” he said. “It’s made of Primal mist and hides the Vale from those who do not enter through more traditional means.”
As in, by dying.
The farther we traveled along the diamond road, the more I began to notice the mist gathering, clumping together to obscure all that lay beyond. Just like on the way to the Pillars, the Shroud steadily crept closer to the road, and in the silence, I couldn’t help but wonder if I would enter the Vale upon my death if Nyktos’s plan didn’t work. Or would I find eternal peace in Arcadia if his plan did succeed? Did the Primal embers truly make up for the not-so-mortal morality? Or would it simply come down to Nyktos intervening upon my death and ensuring I found peace instead of punishment?
I shivered at what now felt like morbid thoughts, which was odd. I’d thought of death a lot in the past, having accepted that it was an inevitable outcome, sooner rather than later. But now, thinking about death even felt different. A too-soon end that I no longer accepted because there was hope. A possible future that offered a—
A soft hum drew me from my thoughts. My brow pinching, I looked to my right. The sound wasn’t a hum. It was a voice. Voices. Singing. My grip on Gala’s reins loosened and then firmed as I strained to hear the words. They were in a different language, one that felt ancient, and the embers buzzed in response to it. But the sound—the voices and the melody… They were a prayer. A celebration. Haunting as the voices rose and fell, beckoning. Tears filled my eyes. It was the most beautiful sound I’d ever heard.
Nektas suddenly grabbed my reins, halting Gala. “Stop.” “What?” I whispered hoarsely.
“You’re getting too close,” he warned, features drawn. “You can’t go there.”
“Go where…?” I sucked in a startled breath, realizing I was mere feet from the Shroud, closer to the soft harmony. Blinking back the tears, I looked at Nektas. “I didn’t mean to.”
“I know.” He tugged gently on the reins, steering Gala to the center of the road. “You hear their songs?”
I nodded, heart thumping. “It’s beautiful.”
“It’s the sirens singing.” “Sirens?”
“They are the guards of the Vale, and they’ve sensed us.”
My attention slowly shifted back to the mist. “Why are they singing?” “Only the draken and those who’ve Ascended can travel into the Vale,”
he said. “Whenever they sense something that shouldn’t be this close, they sing to lure the trespassers into the Shroud. Not even you with Primal embers would survive that.”
Skin chilled, I looked down at my white-knuckle grip on the reins and then Nektas’s hand as the sirens kept singing. His fingers remained curled firmly around the reins and stayed there.
 |
Hours later, the sirens finally stopped singing. Nektas had released his hold on my reins, and the rigid tension eased from my muscles. I ached all over from holding myself back. I’d come close to leaping from the saddle and entering the Shroud one too many times. Not even snacking on the jerky Nektas had brought with him had helped, and food was normally the ultimate distraction.
And I would have to experience that again on the way out.
I wasn’t looking forward to that at all as we crested a hill, but all thoughts of the sirens and their call slipped away as a rocky horizon rose ahead. It was a mountain with sheer, vertical cliffs made of pure shadowstone and something else—something that glittered crimson under the sun, reminding me of Nektas’s hair.
“Good gods, I really hope we don’t have to climb that thing,” I said. “If so, I think I’ll take my chances with the sirens.”
Nektas chuckled. “Luckily, the Pools of Divanash are beneath.” “Beneath all of that?” The mountain was a fortress of stone, an
imposing sight amidst all the beauty.
He glanced at me. “You claustrophobic?” “I don’t think so.”
“Well, I guess we’re about to find out, aren’t we?”
This will be fun, I thought as we entered the foothills and eventually stopped when Nektas spotted the slit of an entrance I wasn’t sure how I was supposed to fit through, let alone Nektas. We left the horses tied beneath a weeping tree, where they nibbled on the grass and could rest. With one final scratch behind Gala’s ears, I followed Nektas. We were barely able to slide through the opening sideways, and then emerged into utter darkness.
I gasped, seeing nothing as I came to a standstill. I reached out blindly, feeling the cool, smooth wall behind me but nothing to my left. I searched the darkness, not even able to see the draken. Breathe in. My throat tightened as I croaked, “Nektas?”
“I’m here.” His hand folded over mine, warm and firm. Breathe out. “Can you see?”
“I can.” He started to lead the way.
“Draken must have really good eyesight,” I said, my voice seeming to carry in the sweetly scented air. Breathe in.
“We have amazing senses.”
I clung to his hand as I desperately tried not to think about the fact that I could see nothing, and anything could be within inches of me. Hold. Dakkais. Barrats. Giant spiders. Gods, that wasn’t helping. Breathe out. “You said you smelled death on me before.”
“I did. I still do,” he answered, his voice seeming disembodied even though I held his hand like a frightened child. “I smell Ash on you.”
I made a face.
“And I also smell death,” he added. “Your body. It’s dying.” “What the fuck?” I gasped, pulling on my hand.
Nektas held on. “You’re actively dying, Sera. The Culling is killing you. You know that.”
“I do.” I took an even deeper breath. “But having you say that when I’m under a mountain and can’t see shit puts it in a whole different perspective.”
“I don’t see how.”
“Probably because you can see, and you aren’t actively dying.” “Good point.” He paused. “My apologies.”
“Gods,” I muttered. A moment passed with only the sound of our steps. “Do I smell bad to you?”
Nektas laughed.
My eyes narrowed. “There’s nothing funny about my question.”
“Yes, there is,” he said. “Death does not smell bad. It carries the same scent as life but weaker. Lilacs.”
Lilacs.
I’d smelled that before. Stale lilacs. I wondered if Nyktos could smell that on me. I stopped myself from asking that. I’d rather him think I smelled like a summer storm—whatever that smelled like.
We continued on in the tunnel for some time, and I didn’t think we walked straight. I was about to ask if Nektas was lost when I heard the sound of water and then saw a pinprick of light that steadily grew larger. Sunlight, thank the gods. Soon, I could see Nektas in front of me.
His steps slowed. “Stay right there.”
“I don’t know where you expect me to go,” I replied as he let go of my hand.
“Who knows with you?” He hopped down. “Someone turns their back on you for a few seconds and you run off.”
“I do not.”
He turned from below, offering his hands. I took them instead of kicking him. He helped me down, the drop several feet. The air was significantly warmer here and humid. Much sweeter. I took a step and immediately saw why. Thick branches smothered with lilacs snaked along the floor, climbed the walls of the cavern, and spread across the ceiling, nearly choking out the light coming through the opening above.
“That’s a whole lot of lilacs.” I looked around. “Is that why death smells like lilacs?”
“I don’t know why death smells like that, but lilacs are special. They represent renewal, and both life and death are that—a renewal.” Nektas roamed forward. “If you ever see lilacs like this near water in the mortal realm, you can be assured that you’re near a gateway to Iliseeum—to Dalos, in particular.”
I thought of my lake. “And if there are none?”
“Then the gateway likely leads to the Shadowlands,” he said. “There it
is.”
Sidestepping Nektas, I saw a rocky outcropping that rose to about the
height of my waist, forming a jagged circle that was roughly the size of Nektas in his draken form. The waters of the Pools of Divanash were still and clear as we approached them.
“So, what do I do?” I pressed my hands against the basin. “Just ask where he is?”
“Sort of. It will require a drop of your blood.”
“Just a drop?” I reached down between the halves of my cloak and unsheathed the dagger from my thigh.
“Only a drop,” he advised. “But you also have to give it something not known to others.”
Gods. I’d forgotten about that part. I frowned as I stared at the Pools.
“Once you do that, the Pools should let you know it’s okay to proceed. Ask who or what you’re searching for, and the Pools will answer.” He cocked his head. “Hopefully.”
I hesitated, my hand and the dagger suspended above the water. “Hopefully?”
Nektas shrugged. “I’ve never seen them work.”
“Great,” I muttered, shaking my head. Something that wasn’t known to others. “So, I basically have to admit a secret or something?”
“That’s the gist of it. It’s an exchange of sorts. An answer for a truth, one not known to others—likely not even to oneself.”
“Not known to oneself?” I repeated quietly, my frown increasing. I started to ask what the hell that even meant, but I thought I understood what kind of truth it was looking for. One that made you uncomfortable to admit. Gods, there were a lot of uncomfortable truths. And there wasn’t enough time in the day for me to list them, starting with how I felt about my mother and ending with what I might feel for Nyktos. There were a whole lot of itchy, suffocating truths between those two things as I went through
them.
But there was one that made me the most uncomfortable. One that left me feeling exposed and raw. Vulnerable.
Feeling my skin begin to crawl, I pricked a finger with the slightest bit of pressure. The wickedly sharp dagger stung, and blood immediately welled. Stretching my arm over the Pools, I watched the blood seep from my finger as I whispered words that scalded my throat, “The day I took too much sleeping draft wasn’t an accident or a spur-of-the-moment decision.” My hand trembled. “I didn’t want to wake up.”
The cavern was quiet except for the buzzing in my ears as the drop of blood slipped from my fingertip and splashed off the surface.
A hiss hit the air of the cave as I drew my hand back. The water burst to life, bubbling and roiling. Steam poured into the space above the Pools. Gasping, I took a step back as the mist swirled wildly before collapsing back into the Pools.
“I think that means it accepted your answer, meyaah Liessa,” Nektas said quietly.
I didn’t look at him. I pretended that he hadn’t heard what I’d admitted. “Show me Delfai, a God of Divination,” I said. “Please.”
The blood sank slowly, dispersing as the waters rippled and swirled, swallowing it whole. Nektas moved in closer as clouds began forming deep beneath the surface—first white, then darkening. It reminded me of the way souls took shape in the mist, but this wasn’t some faint outline. Color bled into the pool, and a soft blue spread across its surface, forming a sky. Tall green pines rose behind a vast manor built of ivory stone, each needle glistening like it was coated in dew.
I inhaled sharply as another ripple scattered the sky and trees, erasing the manor from sight. “I really hope that wasn’t it, because that told me absolutely nothing.”
Nektas leaned over, peering down. “I don’t think so,” he replied. “Look.”
The water was shifting colors again, and shapes began to emerge. I stiffened. First, a head and shoulders took form. Then another body. One was taller, with skin the color of amber jewels and hair as black as night-blooming roses. It was a man, his oval face tilted slightly to the side. He appeared to be around the same age I’d thought Holland to be, in his thirties or forties. His hands were busy grinding something in a ceramic bowl, his lips moving soundlessly, as if speaking to someone unseen—
“That’s Delfai,” Nektas said, leaning around me to place a hand on the stone edge of the pool. “Looking quite alive and well.”
The person he seemed to be speaking to started to come into view. Long, thick hair of a brownish-blonde hue and straight, strong shoulders. Sun-kissed pink skin. A heart-shaped face. I caught my breath in shock. It was a face I knew, fuller than I remembered, with green eyes brighter and more alive.
“I know her,” I whispered, stunned, watching as she smiled in response to whatever Delfai was showing her in the bowl. “That’s Kayleigh Balfour, the Princess of Irelone. Delfai is in Irelone—at Cauldra Manor.”
