The captain side-eyed her, gray eyes defensive. “I’ve risked my life crossing this cursed sea for you. I could have dumped your body in the middle of the ocean and left you as lykren food. So, yes, I’d say I’m an immense help.”
She suppressed a shudder at the thought of being bait for the foul beasts that lurked in the Plagued Sea, creatures responsible for the gruesome deaths of many sailors. Adara still pondered how Damon had been so lucky to escape a lykren . . . and to escape Dominic Nite.
The captain had never told her the extent of the dangers he faced on Andreilia, having been the only one to ever leave the island. Only that there was a boy more perilous than any of the vile creatures in the depths of the Plagued Sea. That constant reminder did nothing to quell the trepidation roiling within her.
The island grew nearer. Adara swallowed the lump in her throat. “Is there anything else that can help me?”
Damon gave a slow nod, knuckles white on the spokes as he held the wheel steady. Then he pulled another parchment from the shadows of his coat.
“I hope this is the other half of the map,” she half-joked.
He glared at her. “This isn’t a game, Adara.”
Oh, but it will be soon,she thought. A game against the King of Keys. A winner that would steal a heart and a key. And a loser that would end up powerless, heartbroken, and ultimately dead.
But Damon didn’t need to know of her demented plans. It would only worry him more.
Adara unfurled the parchment, eyes eagerly scanning the words scrawled across the page in unfamiliar handwriting.
Where life ends in ruin
There is a way to reverse the clock
But as time flies, a storm is brewing
In scattered ashes, you will find them locked
Whispers float through cobbled streets
Carried far until they echo a loud chorus
But with sharing rumors, you must be discreet
Because it is the eyes that see for us
In different worlds, you’ll find answers you seek
But beware of the shadows and flames
For fighting light and dark is not for the weak
But if you can fracture, realms will know your name
Adara’s lips parted in disbelief. “Is this what I think it is?” she whispered incredulously.
“Aye,” Damon confirmed. “The riddle for the Realm Fracturer.”
“How did you get this?” she stammered.
The Realm Fracturer was a weapon rumored to be capable of tearing through space and time. However, there was only one ancient tome instructing how to forge the Fracturing Sword . . . and it had disappeared centuries ago. Not that the instructions were worth much. It was written in an ancient tongue, and even if one could translate it, the riddle thwarted any further success.
Adara didn’t miss the way Damon’s fingers gripped the wheel tightly to mask the tremors of his hands or how the muscles in his jaw ticked as if biting back a string of profanities. “Dominic Nite,” he seethed.
The captain and the King of Keys had a river of bad blood flowing between them. That much was easily discernible by the way Damon spat out the name like it left a rotten taste in his mouth. She still deliberated what had gone down between the two, and how Damon had escaped Andreilia all those years ago. With Damon and Nite both having drunk from the enchanted water and being eternally young, Adara wondered how long their rivalry would go on. Perhaps forever.
“A few months ago, he approached me with an offer.” Damon nodded to the parchment clutched tightly in her fingertips, careful not to let such vital information be swept away in the wind. “He’d already translated and cracked the riddle. Five magical relics are needed to forge the Realm Fracturer. He wanted my help in finding them.”
Adara listened intently, hanging onto the captain’s every word.
