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All the shades had turned to dust when he’d defeated Inarus. Or so we’d thought

Ninti considered this. “They must have been protected by the vault when you removed the rest.”

He nodded. “But from here, I can’t tell who made them, whether the shades were Inarus’s or… somethingolder.Hopefully, I can learn more inside.”

My stomach curdled at the idea of him going into that placealone.

“Ayla and I will train while we wait,” Ninti said.

“Great,” I agreed, not completely convinced. Training would distract me from my worry, and while there were clearly no threats from the living realm, I hated to imagine what Zayne could face alone.

He looked at me, his emotions steady as the rock he stood upon. The tether flared, reminding me that anywhere Zayne went, he wouldn’t be alone, no matter how thin it became. He stepped closer, wrapping me into his shadows as he lowered his chin and took my hand in his. “I’ll be fine.”

“I know.”

“I’ll be back soon.” He kissed my brow, squeezed my hand, and vanished, shadow-stepping beyond the death gate.

Chapter seventeen

The Vault Beneath the Earth

Zayne

Stagnant air filled my lungs, and even the necromantic tang of rot was almost undetectable as life slowed to a crawl.

I stood on a large landing just beneath the gate, the entrance of a cave carved out under the beach. Ancient fae lights reflected on the black slate floor as motes of dust spurred to life in light of my abrupt arrival. The crash of the ocean against the beach thumped like a distant heartbeat.

My senses fired into high alert, the Underworld overlaying onto the Living Realm as I examined the vault. Rough hewn walls surrounded me in every direction except for the one opposite me.

Nothing undead haunted this level, but still cautious, I slid along the edges of reality, shadow-stepping to the other side and looking down. An expansive spiral of steps filled a deep hollow in the earth, beckoning me to descend.

From my earlier exploration, I knew a vast vault lay below, the tomb of a shade army I failed to destroy. And beyond them, the black diamond shard.

I continued down the stairwell, not by walking, but by gliding from one shadow to the next, only jumping the distance I could confirm by line of sight.

Halfway down, I approached my first obstacle.

The Underworld had warned me of the undead aberration. Threads of magic bound them to both the dead and the living, as if they were a denizen of both.

I squinted at them from the distance, keeping a flight of stairs between us. Despite the low lights, there was no denying the gleaming white of bones that blocked the stairway.

A skeleton.

I paused, shocked they existed at all.

My texts claimed that no skeletons remained, the art of their creation lost with Pyrian’s original texts. Clearly, even the authors of my books kept their secrets, some mysteries reserved for initiates who ventured beyond the page.

While shades were the undead horde perfected for a necromancer’s obedient army, skeletons were independent beings. They carried the memories of their life—a form of immortality that would last until their bones shattered.

Despite my aloof approach, the skeleton shifted. Bones creaked as they lifted an arm to their chin, as if they were thinking. I braced.

“We have not met,” the skeleton finally said, his deep voice creaking with disuse. When I didn’t answer, he shifted each limb in turn, as if stretching after being immobile for a very long time. “Speak up. Your name, your lineage?”

I debated shadow-stepping around the skeleton, but decided any information—intentionally or unintentionally shared—would be invaluable.

“I was Inarus’s student,” I half-lied. Inarus might have never taught me necromancy, but he had taught me.

The skeleton took a step closer to me. “You are the one who did not know what he was? The Shadow Prince, Zayne. Am I correct?”