Another whimper escapes me, unbidden and raw.
And through my submission, as sharp as the edge of a blade?—
I’m coming for you, Elyssara. Don’t stop fighting.
It’s real.
I bare my teeth and clench my fists one last time.
I will endure.
Because he’s coming.
Kael is here.
CHAPTER TWENTY
KAEL
The Gateway spitsme into the brittle air of Kryntar, behind a crumbling watchtower on the castle’s edge. The golden threads snap closed behind me, and I stare at the place that should have been mine.
Kryntar Castle.
The home of Zerynthia’s royal family.
The air tastes like dust and memory.
It towers like a crown carved for gods—spires piercing the gray sky, walls of pale stone that once gleamed like moonlight on water. Even beneath Maldrak’s chokehold, its bones still whisper of magnificence. Arched windows meant to flood the halls with sunlight. Balconies carved for music, for laughter, for the voices of a court united in peace. Great banners once unfurled from the highest turrets, proud symbols of Zerynthia’s strength and prosperity.
But what was once light has been plagued by decay.
The walls, once white, are streaked black as if veins of rot have wormed their way through the stone itself. The banners are gone, torn away, leaving the ramparts bare and hollow. Iron spikes flank the causeway where garlands of ivy once grew, and in their place, decaying heads of defectors perish inthe elements of The Wastes. And a miasma clings to the air—a wrongness that curdles the breath, that makes even the mist seem tainted.
It is a vision of glory profaned.
My castle.My father’s. A place built for justice, now a nest for tyranny.
My jaw clenches, fury storming through me. I imagine it restored—the corruption purged, the stone gleaming pale again, the halls filled with voices not choked, but in harmony. And I swear to the Stars, I will see it so. I will tear this curse from its bones, even if I have to rip the walls down and rebuild them with my own hands.
Even if it costs me what’s left of my tainted soul.
I train my eyes on the causeway, searching for Elyssara, holding my breath as I scan the gruesome skyline.
“She’s not there,” Therion says, cutting through my thoughts.
I let out an exhale in relief, but I know that doesn’t mean she’s okay. Death might be a mercy compared to whatever they’re doing to her.
My stomach lurches.
I choke, splutter, and finally, I retch, spilling the contents of my stomach on cracked earth.
“We’ll get her back, brother. I swear to the Stars, we won’t rest until we have her,” Therion assures, his eyes narrowed, axe at the ready. He’s prepared for battle.
“Give us orders, Kael,” Daelen says, broadsword unsheathed.
I wipe the filth from my mouth, and clear my throat.
I’m fucking ready for this moment.
