“Morrathys, we need a cloak over us all until we can get past the main patrols,” I say, training my gaze on Death like he’s mine to command. He nods, and I swing back to the group. “We need to find The Shield’s Apprentice—I know nothing morethan his code name. If what Nalya said is true,he’show we find her. “Mavyrn, you stay here. Without horses, we have no other way out—and the outposts span every ridge of Kryntar. Rhyven and Zakarius were the only ones who knew them all.” My voice drips with disgust at the traitors who put my Starbound in this fucking hell, and I pray to the Stars I find Rhyven tonight. “Youare our escape,” I say with intensity.
“I’ll be here, boy,” Mavyrn confirms, twirling the ring on her bony finger as if she’s bored.
“Therion, Seren, Rubi—I need you to find Maldrak’s Arcanist. We need them alive. Do not kill, but do what you must to subdue them. Arcanists always have chambers in the same wing as the king—often interconnected rooms. Therion, you know the way,” I command, and he nods—a soldier receiving orders. Seren loads her crossbow, and secures the leather strap she’s taken to wearing around her forehead. Rubi slaps her cheeks with her palms, as if she can strike the drink from her veins.They’re prepared.
The air hums with readiness—steel rasping against scabbards, breath fogging in the cold.
“My blade is your blade,” Therion says, pressing the inverted triangle symbol between his fingers.
I don’t acknowledge it, but my chest tightens at the sign of deference. Of recognition of Zerynthia’s true ruler. Ofme.
“Ronyn, you’re with me. Elyssara will need to see someone she trusts, and I need you to have my back,” I say to the archer.
“Always, brother,” he affirms, not a joke to be heard.
“Merrik, Jax, Daelen—eradicate anything in my way,” I growl.
And they all drop to one knee, the inverted triangle pressed between their fingers in front of their chests, save Morrathys.
He bows his head, hand over his heart—a god’s deference.
“The true King of Zerynthia,” Death breathes.
The words ripple through the air. A battle cry. A coronation.
“Serve your king with courage, conviction, and no mercy,” I command. “And get me my fucking queen.”
We crouch low under Morrathys’ cloak, and I can’t deny the hollowness I feel at entering into battle without my shadows.
But for her, I’d fight an army with nothing but my own knuckles.
We move smoothly as a unit down the causeway, Kryntar Castle looming over us in the same way our mission does.
My eyes scan the grounds where patrolling guards move systematically from point to point. Security seems light, which can only mean one thing.
“Most guards are inside,” Therion whispers, confirming my own thoughts.
“Then that’s where she is,” I say.
“Servant’s entrance?” Therion asks.
“My thoughts exactly,” I agree, and we gesture to the unit to cut around the castle to the back.
She could be in the dungeons, but she could just as easily be in Maldrak’s bed, and the thought alone makes something primal in me bare its fucking teeth. I reach for the phantom shadows that I can feel like a ghost at my fingertips, but nothing comes. Only a hollow ache.
We move with unsheathed blades, carefully hidden from patrolling guards, but still taking precautions. With Morrathys not at full strength, I have no idea how long the cloak will hold. So, I grip the hilts of my god metal blades like they’re the only thing standing between me and death.Because they are.
And that’s when I feel it?—
The tether ignites in a flurry—pain, defeat, heartbreak, anguish, and hope that’s barely an ember in the wildfire of her emotions.
Elyssara.
My breath hitches.
Therion looks to me, questioning.
“I can feel her,” I breathe, my broken heart fracturing further. “He’s breaking her.”
