He surveys me, before stepping back. “They might be the first honest words you’ve said, witch.”
***
I pull the now-damp folds of the cloak closer around me, attempting to chase away the chill. The barely-existent single sun of Umbraxis is dipping below the horizon ahead of us as I follow Duskbane down a narrow, winding path.
He turns, as if to make sure I’m still following. I hold up my bound hands in silent response, staring my annoyance into his broad back as he turns away again. The shadows holding me tug, and I almost stumble for the fifth, or maybe the sixth, time.
Holding in a sigh, I take note of my surroundings. I had expected us to leave through the main gates to the castle, but Duskbane had led me to a small, unassuming door in the outer stone walls, set close to the entrance to my cell, and unlocked it using a set of heavy-looking metal keys now hidden in his pockets. I eye them, considering how I might be able to access them in the event I need to get away.
Although I have nowhere to go. My father’s orders were clear—I am not to return to Solvandyr. The poison I carried has vanished, thanks to Eres’s care, but I find I have less inclination to end myself at his orders.
Perhaps there is somewhere beyond Umbraxis, if I could get away. On our side, Solvandyr is self-contained—a city set within the expanse of a desert, shadowed only by the Glass Dunes. Beyond that, there is… nothing. Only endless, punishing heat, and death through thirst and hunger awaits those who try to leave.
The ground is damp with mud and small, spiky rocks that dig into the soles of my feet. Duskbane didn’t see fit to give me my boots back, and my feet sink deeper into the muck as we walk. Ilook over my shoulder to the walls of Umbraxis behind us, and then out across the landscape.
It looks much the same as the path beneath me. A vast expanse of brown, mud-covered ground, empty of any sign of life, stretches far beyond my line of sight. The sky above us is a maelstrom of color—not the vivid, clearly-defined sunsets offered by the Solvandyr suns, but a chaotic mix of gray, vivid purple, deep blues and greens that cover the world above us in a strangely beautiful array of light and grows deeper as the sun dips further. “How much longer?”
Duskbane doesn’t respond to my called question. I narrow my eyes, but he vanishes over a crest before I can ask again, tugging on my bonds to pull me along with him.
As I step over the edge, a river comes into view. Hidden by the mound we now make our way down, it stretches out ahead of us. Turning, I follow the curve of the water to where it winds around the castle and vanishes into the distance. It’s not as wide as I assumed from my studies. In fact, it’s surprisingly narrow. A slow, steady flow.
This is the Gloam, then. I pause, struck by the way the stormy sky above reflects on the water, creating an illusion of color. Duskbane heads toward the small crowd—a few dozen, perhaps—waiting beside the bank closest to us. I recognize a handful—the Darkwielder who argued for my torture at the Council meeting meets my eye with a sneer, turning to whisper something to the silent older wielder who had sat beside him. That one regards me with an empty expression.
The queen has not come, but Darian catches my eye and winks, his color restored from our earlier interaction.
The rest watch me with a combination of fear, anger and revulsion. All of them wear the shoddy dark leathers of the Darkwielder fighting forces. The silence feels thick as Duskbane leads me through the scattered crowd and down to the water.
Eres.
“He’s been here for hours,” Duskbane murmurs. “Offerings are always made to Erevan before a Binding. You must wait for the moonlight before entering.”
Erevan, the corrupted Darkwielder god. Unease snakes down my spine as I nod in acknowledgment.
Water gently laps at Eres’s waist where he stands a few feet into the river, his back turned to us. As I watch, he places his palms down against the water. Darkness flows from where he touches, spreading into the river and creating a void of shadow that surrounds him in an expanding circle. “What do you call the shadow marks you wear?”
Across his pale back are more of those black lines, carved into his skin like cracks from a broken pane of glass.
“Riftlines.” Duskbane leans forward, a frown dusting his forehead as he watches Eres. “We receive them as a gift from Erevan on our thirteenth anniversary of birth, along with our erevas. Many of our ceremonies can add to them.”
“What happens if Erevan doesn’t accept a Binding?”
He looks down at me then. “Let’s hope we don’t find out. He risks much for you, witch.”
Both of us fall silent, watching the male in the water. Eres bows his head as the water stills, and I look up to where the Umbraxis moon appears overhead. I’ve never seen one before.
It’s… beautiful. Silver, and spherical, it casts a light across the water that the darkness surrounding Eres seems to absorb.
His shoulders raise, then fall. And then he turns.
Duskbane turns to me. “I’ll take the cloak now. It’s time. Do as he says.”
I slip it from my shoulders, handing it to him. But my eyes are on Eres as I move forward. I’m trembling—the cold, perhaps, or something else.
I was never permitted to attend the Lightbringer ceremonies that glorified our own god, Aedryn. I watched some, where I could, from the Sunspire. Gleaming displays of wealth and light and jewels paraded in the streets. There was music, and noise, and singing that often lasted until the final rays of the sun disappeared. But never past then.
Those lavish displays were nothing like this. And yet I never felt the weight of expectation that hangs in the air now, pressing down on me as I wade into the icy depths of the river, my breath catching.
Eres doesn’t move. His blue eyes look almost black—a deep, midnight blue as he watches me approach. When I come to a stop just beyond the ring of darkness surrounding him, he holds out his hand without saying anything. But his face is soft, and his fingers gentle as they wrap around my own swollen hands and carefully pull me through the ring.
