I feel naked and exposed without her at my side, but based on what Eldrath told me, a human in this demon-filled place below, would face great danger. No humans enter this place—willingly—so this is the safest option.
“I sense your concern.” Eldrath puts his hand on my shoulder, and I’m shocked at the warmth conveyed through his palm. Elven glamours don’t work on me; his consideration is genuine.
“Are you certain you want to venture below?”
“Completely certain.” I should not have let my doubt show.
“Your chances of finding Gabreal are low,” he says, “and the risk to your life is high. Especially if Gabreal, or any demon, discovers your purpose.”
“I will survive.” I’m confident of that. The trepidation Eldrath senses is my concern for Rosomon, not fear for myself in this demon-filled place. The only way to put the Darkness right is to find and stop Gabreal—to remove him from his position of control over the Council. He’s clearly become an authoritarian ruler in a place that was once ruled by many.
Guilt overcame me when I learned this resistance movement has been sending cries for help for centuries. Not only did those cries remained unanswered, my people helped to kill the messengers.
Gabreal is the catalyst for all that’s gone wrong, and it’s my duty to set things right.
The people of the Darkness need me, just as my own people need me, and those objectives are aligned. I don’t want my subjects to return to the Darkness until this demon is dead.
My queen keeps trying to assure me that I don’t need to single-handedly right every wrong, once again proving herself to be wise. After Gabreal is dethroned, and I restore the true Council of Superi Sovereigns, I’ll trust that council to continue without me. That will leave me free to return to the Light with my wife.
After balance is restored in the Light, Rosomon and I will build our lives together, perhaps have children someday—when she’s ready.
I regret not sharing my feelings over these past days. As soon as Gabreal is dead, I will tell her I love her. She loves others and may never love me, but it feels like a lie to withhold how I feel, and I’ve been doing so for many days now.
My chest tightens with fear.
Not fear for her safety, but fear for the safety of my heart.
CHAPTER 28
Zogar
For a place primarily populated by demons, the place below is very bright. I squint upon exiting the elevator that transported me down.
I have no idea how far I am below the City of Darkness, but in many ways this place is a mirror image of the city above, full of busy streets and tall buildings. While none of the buildings is as tall as many above, their height defies what seems possible underground. Some structures rise at least twenty stories or more. How did these demons dig a space so deep, never mind build structures inside it?
The main and most glaring difference between the two cities is the light. And I do mean glaring. The sky above the City of Darkness glows red at all hours, and even though the city contains millions of artificial lights to supplement the sky’s eerie illumination, the light remains murky.
Down here, the “sky”—which must be the ceiling of a tunneled-out cave—is painted light blue, and the illumination cast down from it is as bright as that in the Kingdoms of Light at midday.Wispy clouds drift across this artificial sky, and it all seems very real. I concentrate to see through the magic but can’t. Perhaps it’s some kind of projection.
Regardless of how all of this was done, the creators of this underground city most definitely modeled their artificial sky after ones seen behind the veil, although the fake sunlight here has more of a yellow tinge than the slightly pink sunlight cast there. Perhaps it’s modeled after the sky in the world from which these demons were expelled.
The streets are riddled with pedestrians—demons of all kinds—but this city mercifully lacks the motorized vehicles that pollute the air and terrorize the roadways above ground.
Eldrath gave me the name of a restaurant where he thinks I might find Gabreal, or someone who knows how to find him. When I asked Eldrath how he came upon this information, his answers were worryingly vague, as were his answers when I asked for a physical description. Eldrath simply replied that I wouldn’t find it difficult to identify Gabreal if I found him.
Given the urgency, I accepted his inadequate answers. The sooner I accomplish my goal, the sooner I can return my wife to the Light.
A demon, one even taller than I, strides toward me. His skin is as black as ebony and horns of red protrude from his forehead. IsthisGabreal? For all I know, any one of the males on this street could be him.
The demon passes, and I shudder. His horns weren’t red—they were dripping with fresh blood. Despite the brightness, this place gives me chills. Within a block, I’ve seen a dozen or more types of demons—most of which did not live here, when Ilived in the Darkness. Some demons have bodies which appear part animal—like a Gryphon or Satyr—and many have horns or distorted features, but just as many look entirely human, but it’s clear that they aren’t.
I enter a square at the intersection of six streets that fan out like spokes. All around, bright images flash on screens, carrying messages urging demons to purchase various products. Some of the advertised products or services are so distasteful I turn away.
But I take note of one particular male’s image, which appears in many of these recurring messages. The recurrent male has a human-like appearance, except that he’s more handsome than any human male I’ve seen, and my eyes are drawn to him in a way I can’t fully explain.
He’s got the unnatural beauty of a vampyre but lacks the glow I can easily detect from a vampyre—even the image of one. The male’s eyes are a very pale green, and his thick hair is white, swooping across his forehead in such a way that seems both purposeful and accidental. His body is muscular and proportional, and he’s dressed in clothing common to this time. But it’s his smile, his eyes, that make him stand out. His expression is warm and welcoming in every one of the images.
Someone bumps me. I’ve been staring at a single image, high above the square, for quite some time. I turn away from it, only to be confronted by another image of the same man. This time he’s dressed in athletic attire and is posed holding some kind of racket with a ball aimed toward it.
