I slide off Zeph, my boots sinking into the sand. She nudges my side; a soft whine stirs in her chest, and she swings her headto face me. I sigh and press my forehead against hers, drinking in the smooth warmth of her scales.
“Glad to see you all made it here,” Willow’s light voice says from behind me. “There’s something we’d like to show you.”
Zeph nudges me gently, pushing me toward Willow.
I give her a final glance over my shoulder and join my fleet where Willow and Aster are waiting near the mouth of the cave. Orla asks them about this place, but I keep my gaze on our surroundings, staying near the back of the group.
Calix drops back to walk with me, his eyes on the village Riders as we pass.
“It’s weird, isn’t it?” he asks quietly. “How out of touch they are with the realm.”
I nod my head. A squeal and a laugh come from our left as an Undine girl splashes a Woodland boy in the face with a spout of water.
“It almost doesn’t feel…” I search for the word.
“Real,” Calix finishes for me. “None of this feels real.”
No, it certainly doesn’t. It could bealmostbelievable that perhaps the people of Kauri are sheltered from the things happening between Penyth and Crea. They live so secluded from the mainland that it would be easy to miss the news that spreads from village to village. That Willow and Aster keep things to themselves—since they seem to be the ones in charge—is a possibility, but the villagers would’ve found out when the wyverns started to arrive.
Hard to ignore creatures that only appear in times of war.
And yet, here they are—lounging on a rocky beach as the stars twinkle to life. Meanwhile, my skin itches to be anywhere else. To be planning where we’re going next or marching myself right up to the Shadow Lands and demanding Vidaris to take me instead of Graylen.
But I also can’t ignore Brielle’s interest in hearing Willow and Aster out, or the way Zephyr keeps pushing me toward them.So, I stay silent as Calix and I follow the group into the depths of the cave.
Soft chatter bounces off the cave walls, the air damp and salty. The deeper we get, the darker it becomes. A fire flares to life from my palms, bright enough to light the path ahead but still leaving us partially encased in darkness.
My hair stands on end, feeling as if the dark behind us is a physical presence imposing itself closer with every step we take.
Calix leans over and asks, “Where’s Leda?”
“Talking to Adrian and the Lyles.” I look sideways at him, a look of understanding passing between us. There are too many ears in the cave—too much to explain with Adrian being the King of Crea and Duke Wyman’s identity.
He snorts. “Talking.”
The corners of my mouth tug up. He knows as well as I do that Leda’s version of talking to the prisoners probably includes putting the fear of Eurydice in them.
“Do you think Leda will get anything new out of them about Moros?” I ask to distract myself.
Adrian and the Lyle brothers might not know that Duke Wyman is Moros, but they could’ve seen something that’ll help us. If Moros is acting on Vidaris’s behalf—controlling the human realm and preparing an army to move on Penyth—then no amount of information is too small.
Calix huffs a bitter laugh. “They’re stubborn, but so is Leda.” He shakes his head, and we glance at each other, another knowing look passing between us. If anyone could get them talking, it would be her. “But Adrian hasn’t seemed inclined to help us before we got here. I have to say, Lu, I don’t see what you saw in the man.”
Memories rise of the boy I once knew—the one who sat with me outside the market and listened to me tell him stories of my childhood, the same boy who found a way to get me out of the camp…even if the castle was just a prettier prison.
“You and me both,” I mumble.
We reach the end of the cave—or a dead end where it collapsed. Rubble fills the path, stopping us from going any further.
“Here,” Aster calls out, leading us over to the right side of the rubble.
He motions for me to step up to provide light, though the only thing there is the smooth, damp rock wall. Everyone shuffles closer as my fire dances across the slick surface.
“What are we looking for exactly?” Calix asks, his voice tense.
But the closer we get, the more I can make out shapes etched into the wall. At first glance, it looks like senseless scribbles. I tug on my Essence, my blood humming with delicious heat as my fire burns brighter, illuminating a larger mass of the rock.
They aren’t scribbles—they’re depictions of fae and humans, the fae easily discernible with sharp ears and elongated bodies, the humans marked by their rounded ears and shorter frames.
