An Elthika—one I couldn’t make out, though I knew it wasn’t Samryn—flew overhead, crashing into the mountain side, taloned claws latching onto the stone. High above, it disappeared into one of the inlets, rubbed smooth and wide by centuries of consistent Elthikan scales.
“It’s hard to imagine the mountain can hold them all in,” came Amaia’s soft comment, eyeing the same thing, “now that I’ve seen them up close.”
“Ny’am is vast,” I told her as she fell into step beside me. “The mountain extends for miles eastward. This is just the western face. The Elthika have their own tunnels inside. Bonded pairings have their own nests. You’d be surprised by what the mountains can hold.”
She went quiet, even reaching out to touch the rocky face as we neared. I led her along the face of the mountain, walking forlong moments in quiet as the moon drifted over the sky. Finally I saw the entrance I sought, hidden by overgrowth of the forest that directly abutted it, making borders around Grymia.
Her expression was trepidatious when she saw the opening, but she said nothing.
The entrance was littered with rotting leaves and dead vines. A striped rodent scurried out with a squeak when we stepped inside the mouth.
I led her down a long tunnel, but halfway, I heard her say, “Alaryk, I can’t see anything.”
Were Dakkari senses so dulled she couldn’t see in the dark? I wondered, frowning. But then I remembered—she had human blood. Human senses, I’d heard, were noticeably…disadvantaged.
“Wait,” she said.
Then a glow of red light filled the tunnel. Dull but enough that she blinked up at me, like she was seeing me for the first time. She smiled. The light was coming from a pendant around her neck, and I watched as she rubbed the gem there with her thumb.
Even still, it wasn’t enough light to illuminate more than a couple feet in front of her, so I took her hand in my own and guided her through the maze of darkness looming before us.
Her hand was soft in my own. Small, but she gripped mine tight. When we reached the worn stone stairs, descending even further, that was when her hand spasmed in my own.
Looking over my shoulder, I asked, “Frightened?”
My voice seemed to echo against the walls of the tunnels. Her chin lifted. “Nik.”
My lips twitched.Noin Dakkari. She might deny it, but I saw her hesitation.
“Afraid of the darkness?” I asked as we started to descend.
“Afraid of…being enclosed. Caged in with nowhere to go,” she answered quietly.
“It’s only a little while more. You’ll see,” I told her, hoping thewords brought her comfort. “You won’t feel caged down there—I promise you.”
Her small hand tightened in my own, and I made quick work of the stairs. Amaia tripped on one of the last steps, the edge more worn and slippery than the others, and she crashed into my back. I wedged myself against the wall, catching her before she could stumble again.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, giving me an uncertain, shaken smile.
I nodded, righting her, my hand lingering on her waist to make sure she was steady. The curve of her hip was generous and soft. She was so close, I could smell her warmth. My hand curled into her flesh before I remembered myself and released her.
When we reached the bottom of the steps, there was a curved archway before us. Beyond that…moonlight.
Amaia dropped the gem pressed between her fingertips, the red glow fading in the presence of the silver light. I let her surpass me as she went to peer into the cavern.
“What…” she breathed before turning to me with wide eyes. “What is this place?”
I looked beyond her, stepping out onto the half-sunken ledge of stone at the entrance of the room. A whisper of a touch glanced across my skin, and my neck prickled, feeling a sense of icy stillness here. It was why I’d brought herherespecifically.
“The Arsadia used to be inhabited by an ancient people. One who lived in peace with the Elthika…until they didn’t. Until war drove them from the land, across the sea, to Karak.”
“I thoughtthiswas Karak,” she said softly.
“This is the Arsadia,” I corrected. “It’s an island, albeit vast. It’s Elthikan domain. Karak is cleaved into two by the sea. The Arsadia is in the middle of it all. It’s said to be where Mokag, the first Elthika, once lived. Here, where he first cried and each tear that landed on the earth grew athalaratree, laden with heartstones.”
Her eyes roved around the cavernous room. Water was trickling down from a small waterfall at the north end, filling the bottom at a constant rate, though there was an outlet along the east wall, which I knew was the source of a wide stream that cut through the forest outside.
Overhead, there was an opening in the side of the mountain, despite how deep we were, showing bright stars and a large moon. On this side, it was shallower than the western side, no upper caverns overhead. What this place had been used for, I wasn’t certain. But I thought it’d been chosen because of how it opened to the sky. Perhaps, once, it had even been used as an Elthika’s nest.
