Everyone who had attempted to claim the diamond had been killed in the process, including his own father, cursed until the end of his days. None of that scared Grim. He would risk anything to keep Isla alive for good after tying his life to hers—which he knew from the start was a temporary solution. The stone might be the only thing powerful enough to save her.
He had tried to portal directly to Atlas, the island where Infinite waited to be claimed, but there was a shield around it. No matter. He portaled as close as he could with a boat and would just have to paddle the rest of the way. The mere thought of losing her had him rowing at a frantic pace through the ice-cold water.
The bottom of his boat shredded as it washed upon a rock-crusted shore. Rising just beyond it was a wall of that same jagged stone. He tipped his head back but couldn’t see the top. It reminded him of his climb up to the ancient blacksmith, with Isla.
This place might have looked similar—but it felt decidedly different.
The moment he stepped foot on the rough crust of land, his every sense was ripped away.
He could no longer hear the waves crashing against the rock, the boat creaking with the tide. The brine of the sea vanished. His vision was extinguished, like the moon and all of the stars had sputtered out above him. He could barely feel his own body.
He exhaled roughly through his nose as he took a hesitant step forward. The living night rippled around him, thick and heavy, pulling him like gravity.
With a flash of pain, the darkness pierced his mind and spoke in a voice that scraped the inside of his skull like a claw, circling around and around.
Take one more step, and your life will hang in the balance, it said. A warning. The last he would get, Grim figured.
But he didn’t come here to cower at the first challenge. He took another step forward.
His senses returned to him in a rush. He was facing a wall of pointed black rocks. The cliffside he was meant to climb.
With a steadying breath, he gripped the pointed stones, flinching as they cut his palms, his blood running down his hands...and he began his ascent. He moved for several minutes without any distractions. Just him and strength that he had honed over centuries. Just the sharp bite of pain he was used to.
This wasn’t so bad. Any climb was just repetition. If he could maintain this rhythm, he could make it to the top. He could do this. He reached for his next handhold—
And was on a battlefield, centuries ago. The ground at his feet was blackened ash. Before him lay a field of light green grass that was slowly shriveling away with his every step.
The legion before him was perfectly positioned. If he loosened his hold on his emotions and allowed himself to feel theirs, he had no doubt he would be hit with a wall of crushing fear. Good. They should be afraid. With a flick of his hand, his shadows shot forward, spiraling through the air like a dark wind, scything them down, then circling back, razing the entire battalion.
It was too easy. Almost boring. The men bellowed, some cried, some pissed themselves. All were soon bleeding out. Grim didn’t care. They were faceless. Meaningless.
Solider after soldier fell—until only one remained. But instead of pointlessly raising his sword...the man raised his hands and sank to his knees.
“Please,” he said, his gaze steady. He did not seem afraid. Not for himself, anyway. “I have a wife and children I love very much. Please...allow me the mercy of returning home to them.”
Grim’s emotions had been folded away long ago. It was easier to kill without them. So, as the man’s lips parted in another plea—
Grim gutted him. The man choked, then looked down as his intestines fell into his hands. His expression was one of pure and utter sadness. Of surprise. Of momentous loss.
Grim stepped on his entrails on his way to the next legion he would cut down.
For years, that was his entire existence. He was his father’s sword. He lived without remorse. Without any feeling at all. Because the alternative was to be filled with regret and pain so fierce, he wouldn’t be able to withstand it. He wouldn’t be able to do what was needed, to ensure his sister’s death—along with the deaths of all his other siblings—wasn’t for nothing.
Grim’s stomach twisted, reliving the man’s demise. Seeing the desperation on his face. Now Grim knew he would do the same. He, the ruler of Nightshade, would gladly beg on his knees for a chance to spend even one more second with Isla.
The regret sunk below his ribs. And the wall seemed to sense that. It rippled back into his vision, all at once.
As he started to climb again, the darkness around him swirled. Through the quiet night, he heard the faint echoes of battle. Smothered screams. Slowly, he looked up and instead of the stars, he saw a tunnel of memories awaiting him, of all the people he had cut down during his centuries as a warrior.
Fuck. He would have to relive every death, every mistake. That was going to be his journey to claiming the diamond. He’d have to face this endless pain that he had pushed away for so long.
Everything within him pleaded to turn around. To start his descent...
But he knew what awaited beyond this test. That diamond could save Isla.
Isla. His wife. His world. His universe.
He thought of the way she had smiled in that field of nightbane, when he had gotten down on both knees to beg her to be with him forever. He never knew he could feel such pure unfiltered ecstasy after centuries of misery.
