Where are you?I call to myother,my intertwined self. My voice echoes weakly in the void. Where life and power once rushed, there is only a dry wasteland.
“Hello, Cullen,” Anrai bites out furiously.
The man places a hand over his heart. “You wound me, son. I hoped a little thing like trying to murder me wouldn’t dampen our family relations.”
Abject horror settles over me like a thick mist as the man’s name clangs through me.Cullen.A name mentioned a lifetime ago, in the little cave beside the stream. Anrai had blanched when I raged that he was no better than the Praeceptor. Only now do I realize how intimate his knowledge of the horrific warlord really was, and what coming into that camp to save me truly cost him.
“If you won’t call me Father, you could at least do me the honor of the Praeceptor. I think I’ve earned it.”
With a start, I realize Cullen looks just like Anrai. His skin is several shades lighter, and his cheekbones are not as high, but there is no denying their relation. He’s all of Anrai’s sharp angles, with none of his handsomeness. As if the pleasing aspects of his face have been carved away by cruelty. His eyes are the same pale blue, but they are flat and dispassionate, even as they settle on his son.
“What…did you do?” Anrai’s words come in painful gasps. Whatever Cullen has done to empty my power is affecting him as well. Max and Cal stand still, faces grave as they watch the Praeceptor.
Cullen raises an eyebrow, flicking a piece of lint from his tunic casually. “Oh, you mean the emptiness in your chests?” Something glimmers in his pale eyes as he sets them on me. Something like triumph. “Don’t fret, it’s only temporary. Your power will come back to you as soon as you cross the threshold of this dungeon. Just a little blood magic learned from a friend. As long as I get what I want, everything will return to normal. And if not,” his triumph flattens into something cold, “my men waiting outside these doors will be more than willing to step in.”
“What do you want, Cullen?” I gasp.
Cullen’s mouth twitches at the name as if the lack of respect physically bothers him. “A lot of things, really. All of which I intend to get in time.” His pale eyes, which contrast beautifully against Anrai’s dark skin, serve to make Cullen look washed out and colorless, like everything vibrant about him has been carefully scrubbed from his exterior. As they shift to me, they are fathomless. “But I suppose they all come down toyou.”
Anrai shoves himself to his feet. His legs tremble with the exertion but his face is formidable as he faces his father. “Why.”
Cullen chuckles. His gait is unhurried as he prowls closer. He appears unarmed above his finely tailored clothes, but I’ve seen the places one can stash weapons. I burrow into myself, rooting around for any scrap of my power that remains, anything to protect us from Cullen’s depravity. He shattered Anrai’s soul as a child, he keeps people in cages, and he sanctions someone as evil as Shivhai. He needs to pay. But there is nothing except dust, as if every bit of water inside me has evaporated. Even my blood feels like sludge in my veins.
“It’s quite useless. There’s nothing left of it, I’m afraid,” Cullen tells me, with a pitying smile. “Sorry for the mild discomfort, but I couldn’t have you drowning me before I was even able to speak.”
Next to me, Anrai’s fingers clench into a fist and then stretch, itching to grab a dagger. Rage sharpens the lines of his body, keeping him still. Watching Cullen’s every move and waiting for the perfect moment, because if it isn’t perfect, Cullen will tear us all apart.
“You did this to Yen Girene,” Anrai’s voice shakes with barely leashed fury. “You ordered all these people massacred.”
Cullen’s face curves into a sharp smile. A thick wave of nausea grips me. “The Achijj needed to be taught that I am not a man to be double crossed. I think you’ll find he’s still ruminating over my lesson in the throne room.”
Anrai’s jaw tightens as if he’s just realized something. “The Achijj was the one who sent the assassin,” he mutters more to himself than to his father. He shakes his head and presses his eyes closed, the world rearranging itself in his mind. When he opens them, they’re filled with undiluted furor. “The Achijj wanted to keep you from getting her. Why?”
“Why does any leader try to keep something from another? Because of its value, of course. There have been rumblings in the darkest corners of Ferusa, whispers of magic returned. Rumors of the Dead Prophecy coming to pass.” Cullen continues his slow progression toward us, his movements unhurried.
“What do you care of the Dead Prophecy? You’ve never concerned yourself with the occult. You wrote it off as nonsense.”
“I would be foolish not to at least look into it. I taught you to shore up your defenses, Shaw. That even one crack can lead to rot and dissension. If you are not vigilant in protecting what is yours, you will end up like the Achijj. A useless lout.” He frowns in disgust, his eyes flickering toward Cal and Max. “A return of magic threatens the kingdom I’ve built so I’ve made it my mission to learn the enemy.”
“You wouldn’t believe the sort of things I learned in my studies of the curse this year, things that are beyond even you. But one of the most important was learned from a Kashan I tortured in the north. A man had translated the first line of the prophecy.” His eyes settle on me. “Unfortunately, the Kashan was freed from my possession before I was able to ascertain what, exactly, the line said.”
I stare at him in horror.Asa.Asa was the Kashan who helped my father. It was his village that Cullen decimated.
“It was no matter because I tracked the man down. It seemed like a gift from the old gods when I discovered it was no other than Denver, Chancellor of Nadjaa, the very man who negotiated the Blood Pact years earlier to keep me from gaining more power.”
Anrai blanches, looking as sick as I feel. “You were the one who had Denver the entire time.”
Cullen nods, amused. “I planned to torture him into giving up what he knew of the prophecy and then kill him. If the information died with him, the balance of the Dark World would remain intact. Words have power and one can never be too careful of them.”
“Then how did Denver end up in Yen Girene?” I ask.
“I sent my spies to learn whatever they could about our esteemed Chancellor. I learned he was a lover of peace and had apparently appeared out of nowhere years before, with no homeland or family to speak of. I also learned he was running his own makeshift orphanage for unwanted wretches, turning them into his brainwashed disciples. Imagine my surprise upon discovering that the leader of his pathetic flock was none other than my ownson.”
Cullen spits the word with disgust, the first emotion that escapes his carefully curated control. “So, my plan evolved. I would use Denver for the prophecy, but I would also use him to get toyou,Anrai. I made you what you are and there is nothing about you I don’t know. You would never come to me willingly, not even if I had your precious mentor, because as well as I know you, you know me the same. You’d know I never had any intention of letting him live. I needed a way to bring you to me, willingly and on your knees.”
“The Achijj was the perfect opportunity. Squandering his life away on drink andjovehs, he was delighted when I dumped an opportunity for more power in his lap. Alas, when he discovered what he should have known from the beginning, that I would never share the prophecy with him, he was a bit rankled. Though I don’t feel I should be persecuted for his naivete.”
Cullen stops beside Shivhai’s corpse. He toes his shoulder, watching with mild disgust as blood gurgles from the open wound at his throat. His proudlegatusbrought low. “This is the Dark World. There is no place for the weak-minded.”
