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Larger chunks of rock break loose from the ceiling above. I smirk and take in the slightly widened black eyes of the man before me—eyes only one experiencing true fear would have.

In the center of the room, the floor separates, polished stone crumbling and moving to the side to reveal a dark passage below. Atlys shoots upward from the depths of the core into the room and drops down to the floor so heavily, it cracks.

“Step away from him, Akemi.” Atlys’s voice is barely above a whisper. He looks at the Jord Lord with a level of hatred and loathing I have never seen before.

Relief floods through me. I retreat only two steps before Atlys appears suddenly in front of Rollo, holding him by the throat to the wall. My leg throbs as my body recognizes that the threat is over.

Atlys is here. He came for me.

The blood drains from my head as my remaining strength immediately evaporates. An unconscious part of me realizes that I no longer need to be strong because he’s here.

He’s here!

“I should kill you for this,” Atlys says, standing nose to nose with him. Where Rollo is darkness of the Underworld, Atlys is the light, the molten core of the earth, so hot no one would dare cross him but demons themselves. The light at the center of the world, holding it all in place.

“Brother—” the Jord Lord starts.

“She is not yours; she will never be yours. Akemi is her own person, and she is not an object for your collection”—he spits the next word—“brother.”

The room spins as the word sinks in.

Brother.

Rollo and Atlys are… brothers.

I feel sick. So sick. My steps seem so unsteady, and yet I move closer to them both. His brother kidnapped me, took me to the Jord. Assaulted me. Strapped me to that table. Treated me like I was property.

Atlys looks pained as he watches me uncover this realization.

“How come you didn’t tell me?” My voice cracks.

Atlys just turns back to Rollo, squeezing tight until he begins to choke in earnest.

My steps falter. “How could you keep this from me?”

The room turns to shades of brown—maybe it’s my imagination, maybe it’s the dust from the wreckage, maybe it’s the blood loss from my leg.

“How could you?” The floor comes up to my face, but before I can make contact, Atlys abandons his chokehold to catch me.

He cradles me effortlessly. Shadows seep from his hulking figure, angry and wild. He turns to Rollo. “You’ll pay for this.”

Then he jumps into the gaping hole in the center of the room, his smoke-like wings snapping out as we fall.

10

The Last Known Starwatcher

Iwake in a dark room. I’m tucked into a bed so large, my feet barely reach the midpoint. The sheets are deliciously soft and a smoky grey color, matching the knotty dark grey blanket strewn over the bed. I push myself upward against a wooden headboard and blink away some of the grogginess.

Ragnar leaving the dagger—fleeing the chamber—almost killing the Jord Lord.

Then, Atlys.

My heart implodes with feelings so strong, so contrasting that my chest aches. The last thing I remember was nearly escaping Castle Varlok, bloodied, and faint. I take a mental sweep of my body. No pain. How long was I out for?

There is only one place I would imagine to look like this, and it certainly doesn’t exist on the Surface.

The room is expansive, dim, and moody. Black stone walls curve in natural ways, as if the architecture used nature as the muse and worked around it. In the center of the room is a column of rock that is hollowed at the bottom where a fire currently flickers. Along the far side of the room, there is a large armoire, lounge chair, and table. Near the fireplace, two large couches face one another over an ivory colored rug.