Page 52 of Claimed By the Depths

“Their locations”—Ignis prowled forward, crossing the minimal distance separating him from the former prince—“which are rather important if you wish to oppose the Others and obtain answers as to why you cannot recall your truth or access the power pulsing beneath your veins.”

With a smug expression, the corners of Kael’s mouth curled. “Who’s to say we are not wholly capable of uncovering the artifacts ourselves?”

“Such a claim would be ludicrous⁠—”

Not allowing Ignis to finish, Kael reached into his pocket and retrieved a gold coin pouch. Briefly dangling it before the Fae’s face, he offered him a mocking smile before tossing it at Alastair.

“Jaskor’s seven coins, all etched with your ship.”

Ignis’ admittance flooded my senses, the implications of Alastair’s ties to the God of Luck fully solidifying. While there had been a tinge of denial—the plausibility of being linked to a divine being seemed impossible—something within me had stirred at the mention of his connection. It was as if a portion of me knew what lurked in his essence, a portion of me that I still hadn’t quite come to understand.

It wasn’t unfamiliar knowledge that Alastair had a way with skirting the lines of death, with numerous instances of close calls and should-be downfalls defining his existence. Good fortune followed him, and any time chance showed up to challenge him, he always won. By the gods, the scar Caspian had left behind should have resulted in his demise, and somehow, someway, it hadn’t.

Because he was Jaskor’s Son.

The man who worshipped me in ways I never imagined possible, whose love was the purest treasure anyone could ever seek, was divine. Where I should have been bowing before him, he had knelt, extending his devotion to me as if I were worthy of such blessings.

Clutching the pouch in his fist, Alastair ran his tongue over his lips. As he lifted his attention from the artifact Kael had given him, a newfound confidence billowed from him—a confidence I had known he carried and longed to see. “It seems we’ve found three of the five then.”

Syoran nodded. “So it seems.”

“Speaking of the children of the Damned, where is Rohen?” I asked, directing my query to Kael. “She was with the three of you, wasn’t she?”

“Was,” the former prince confirmed.

“Which means what exactly?” Alastair’s tone sharpened, protectiveness flooding his essence.

Finally, electing to speak, Sapphira said, “She caught wind of Caspian’s arrival and went after him.”

“What?” Alastair and I spat at the same time.

“Oh, don’t act so surprised, Seridean.” Syoran folded his arms over his chest. “Whenever that woman is set on doing something, there is nothing that will stop her. Hell, you can certainly try, but your existence would cease just as quickly as it was gifted.” With a shrug, he added, “Need I remind you how unforgiving she was when you did not allow her to go after him the first time?”

“You need to remind me of nothing,” Alastair growled, his hold around the pouch tightening. Anger heightening, the gold of his irises seemed to gleam with far more vibrancy. “Though if you wish to continue⁠—”

A tremor ripped through the cobblestone streets with vengeance, splitting paths in half as a gaping crack snaked toward us. Shoving Alastair forward, I joined him on one side of the fissure before it widened, splitting the earth as if it were nothing more than modeling clay. Chest hitching with a rasped breath, my gaze settled on the ever-growing chasm before lifting to find horror painting the expressions of both Syoran and Kael.

Words coming from me with no sense of them ever forming, I offered one warning before a portal filled the shadowed rift. “It’s the Others. Their Realm has claimed Hollowmere.”

CHAPTER 29

Hollow Eyes

SYORAN

Earth fractured, tumbling into the never-ending chasm. No collision followed, no echo of crushed rock rising from the bottomless pit, and when the flash of gold erupted from the growing hole, there was nothing that could have prepared us for the detonation of dark magic that followed.

Spilling from the cavern, energy whipped outward. Unlike what we experienced in Serevalen, its wrath did not come only in the form of detonation but in the form of feeling.

My breath evaporated, knees buckling as the impact crashed through my mind and soul alike. It was a wave of ancient malice, one that carried the taste of grave soil and forgotten sins. Pouring into my thoughts like black water, whispers I could not understand slipped through my subconscious like a battering ram. They drew forth a sense of knowingness while also birthing a deep-seated fear, clawing at the edges of my sanity and speaking in languages older than kingdoms.

Fumbling to sift reality from fiction, the physical blow followed. Every muscle seized as an invisible force hammered into my body and hurled me backward across the shattered earth.

Back slamming into cracked cobblestone, the air I already lacked vanished entirely. I grunted, ears ringing with a mix of chaos and anguish as I struggled to roll onto my side. Blinking through stars, the attributes of Hollowmere came back into view, but the overall sight awakened a newfound sense of horror—one that suggested the Others had already fused their plane with ours.

Faces emerged within the fog blanketing the village, their mouths open in silent screams. Expressions twisted with affliction and terror, their features shifted from human to uncanny. With their transition, what had been stillness gave way to building groans, forming a haunting symphony of men, women, and otherworldly bellows. The terrain responded to their cries, and the mountains trembled in the wake of the melding of realms, fearing the onslaught of whatever the portal was seconds away from releasing.

A distant voice tore through my trepidation-infused daze. “Syoran…!”