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‘Nym.’ Her voice had dropped to a calm yet commanding tone. The message was clear: there would be no room for arguments. ‘I will need you to accompany Vas and me.’

‘But—’

Areanel levelled him with a glare. A combination of reds and oranges danced around the city, surrounding them, illuminating the solemn expression on his face.

‘Where are you going?’ Percival moved to block her way when she began walking in the opposite direction.

Urgency pawed at her mental barrier as her jaw clenched, fingers tightening then loosening against the scythe’s handle. They had already wasted enough precious time.

Itching to leave, Areanel allowed that scrape of a sharp, scorching talon to run through her soul until she could feel it.

‘To find my husband and kill the bastards who took him.’

Chapter 47

Rymedur

Darkness was the first thing Rymedur was greeted with when he forced his eyes to open, and for a moment, he was afraid he had lost his sight. A whisper of a cold, phantom touch grazed his temple.

He shifted to his left side, and a groan escaped his lips. Shit! He must have been injured. A sharp sting slashed his side, and when he placed a hand there, something thick and sticky coated his fingers. Narrowing his eyes, Rymedur tried to wade through the fog of his mind.

Disoriented, he lay on the hard, rough ground. He recalled visiting The Zenith with Areanel; remembered Caius and Verdugo; remembered Verdugo asking them to leave.

Areanel! She had stayed, and Rymedur had followed Verdugo’s goon from the cellar to the back door. They had made it outside—but then what? What had happened?

All Rymedur could remember was a blast of heat and the stinging sensation of something jabbing into the base of his neck.

The memory had Rymedur itching to reach up and rub the sore spot, but he forced himself to remain still, just in case his captors were watching. The cold came next, a stinging iciness that bit at his exposed skin. Rymedur began to take stock of his surroundings. There was no one with him from what he could tell; the ground felt hard, wet and cold—almost like a cavern or dungeon of some sort; there was no sign of any light, natural or otherwise, and there was no heat, either.

Rymedur slowly moved his limbs, so as not to alert his captors if they watched.

Bending his knees towards his chest, his skin harshly scraped the ground. Feeling around, his suspicions were confirmed—he was exposed, completely stripped of clothing.

Humiliation coursed through his veins; the knowledge that someone had violated him in such a way was alarming. Rymedur was a commander. This wasn’t meant to happen to him. Rymedur had done despicable things to attain the title of Commander. They were equal in that way, Areanel and he. His title was feared, and that fear was meant to keep him safe.

How could he have allowed himself to get caught? Where was Areanel?

Rymedur prayed that whoever had done this hadn’t captured her, too—but what if they had? Fear coursed through his veins like broken glass. He had to get out of here!

Rymedur knew he had to move. He measured his breathing, counting to three. In and out, he continued the motion for another minute until he was calm enough to think clearly.

There was a rumble beneath the stone, and the cavern shook with the loud, heavy thunder—it sounded like a landslide. Was the mountain collapsing? A thunderous clap, and what Rymedur thought sounded like a growl followed. What beasts lived in these caves?

His bare body trembled, but he reasoned that, left to the natural elements, he hadn’t suffered from hypothermia as of yet and therefore couldn’t have been in the cave long.

As Rymedur’s breathing settled, his thoughts calmed—but his mind still shouted one word: Areanel. Where was she?

He forced his mind to reach inwards, searching for that thread that connected him to his shadows. This was darkness—something he was comfortable with, thrived in. His shadows would help him escape. But as soon as he tried, Rymedur slammed into a wall. His shadows were unreachable. Terror beat in his chest, travelling through his veins like a horde of bats flying blindly and desperately. Why couldn’t he reach his shadows? No matter how hard he tried to grab, grasp and grapple with his power, they lay dormant against his skin. Rymedur had never been without his shadows—not since before his power had manifested.

Moving slowly, he fumbled around and dragged himself to the far side, lifting himself until he slumped against the cave wall, jagged rocks digging into his skin. Rymedur tried furiously to stand, but he was still unable to move his legs. There was a tingling sensation in his hands, like thousands of needles had pricked him over and over again.

Had he been injected with something? But what was strong enough to knock him unconscious and suppress his powers? He used the sensation to focus and force his body to comply, fierce determination coursing through his bones. He needed to get back to Areanel. Rymedur refused to be the reason she failed her mission. He would not allow this to be the reason her father punished her!

But as he wiggled his fingers, a sudden, sharp and shooting pain—like a knife had been dug deep into his forearm and viciously dragged up to his elbow—struck.

The sudden sensation was so intense that he let out an involuntary groan, which reverberated off the walls. Then, there was a flicker in the corner of the cave. Rymedur had lived his entire life in the darkness. He did not need his powers to tell him something was in the shadows.

He instantaneously stiffened, searching the small area for signs of life.