But it wasn’t a dead end anymore. Framed in gold, a rough sketch hung at the end of the rock cavern, depicting Naunet’s beach—a muse’s spell.Cerys’ spell. The woman was an artist, though she hid the hobby from everyone but me.
Seraphim vanished into the painting as we arrived, and the image on the canvas shimmered and changed as its magic waned.
Cerys was dismissing the spell before any witnesses saw it—step through, and we would vanish from sight, and none would know how.
Wrapping my arm around Aethra’s waist, I threw us both through the portal into Cerys’ illustrated realm. The canvas snapped out of existence, trapping us in a shadowed world.
It hadn’t worked before, but I needed it to work now. Calling on the blood rushing from my shoulder, I wrapped us both in scarlet wings as we plummeted into the darkness.
11
Aethra
Swirling colors trickled past me, like ink spilling from a bottle. Life filled the black canvas, painting a world inside the void. The scarlet wings wrapped around me unfolded, beating through the air to slow our fall.
Seth landed on his feet, cradling me in his arms. I looked up and caught an expression of surprise etched on his face—he hadn’t expected to stick the landing.
Pain broke through the surprise, and he grimaced. Remembering his wounded shoulder, I slipped from his grip, reaching for my skirt to tear loose another chunk. My hands wrapped around the fabric, and I froze.
We stood in a realm I could hardly comprehend. Blue flowers stretched in a rolling meadow around us, their textures odd—like painted strokes. Sheer cliffs tumbled into shadow, where serpents writhed in the chasm below, a stark contrast to the warm sun shining above, wrapped in wings of snow.
Seth made a strangled sound of pain and fell to one knee. Snapping out of my trance, I ripped my skirt and balled the fabric up to pack the wound with. He lunged away from me.
“Are you going to tell me chthonics don’t needhealing?” I asked.
“Not this time,” he growled, teeth grinding together.
“Sit still, then,” I ordered, shoving the fabric into the gash.
The scarlet wings fell from his back in a fountain of blood, leaving behind only stains. Some remained to cover the spear wound on his back, sealing the wound closed. Regaining his dignity, he stood, wiping a smear of blood from his cheek.
Seth’s eyes locked on the bruises painting my shoulders black and purple. Gently taking my arms, he pulled me closer.
“Are you alright?” He asked.
Seeing him up close—seeing the resemblance to the man from my dreams, my limbs shook, and I flinched and reared away from him. Noticing my fear, he dropped my shoulders and stepped back.
“What’s wrong?” His voice quivered.
All my adrenaline dissolved. Ripping pain throbbed in my bruised arms, and I lost balance.
Seth caught me before I struck the ground. His eyes flared in concern.
“I’m fine.” I pressed a hand to my head. It had not stopped aching since the Oracle had rescued me from that nobleman. “Where are we?”
“Cerys is a muse,” he said, helping me to my feet. “But I’ve only seen her painted realms once.” He scanned the strange sky. “She must not have had time to complete the picture. Our subconscious filled in the rest.”
I brushed a hand against the flowers. “Are the wings yours?”
“Mm,” he confirmed. Fondness and grief underlined his breath.
His emotions were as intense as my own. A wave of nostalgia gripped me, as though I’d stepped through the threshold of my childhood home and smelled my mother’s baking drifting from the kitchen.
But so did grief seize me in its cold clutches. She had long since passed.
My head throbbed again as the well of emotions overwhelmed me.
“Cerys can’t hold this forever,” Seth said. “There should be anexit somewhere.” Turning his back, he followed the strange meadow of flowers, searching for the path forward.
