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Ricordan nodded. “He dug each one himself, if the stories are to be believed. Cared for them and crafted them to his perfection, fused the land with his magic. When it came time to ascend, the other Prime Warriors dragged him from beneath the ground kicking and screaming. At that point, he was lost.”

“Is that why the Angels ascended?” Cypherion asked. “Because their power was turning them mad?”

“Could be.” Ric shrugged. “There’s no way to be certain.”

I could feel the questions running through Ophelia’s and Cyph’s heads as we sat here, and while I had many of my own, the main thought plaguing me was the tragedy of the Angels. These figments were revered as long as warriors had existed, absolute and ever-lasting, and yet they’d carved their own battles during their mortal lives. It was devastating to consider, despite the situation they’d put us in now.

I wondered how those losses bled into the rest of history, staining the pages crimson in the wake of tragedy.

Had the battles ceased when they ascended? Or were they still fighting?

“Is there anything of Thorn’s remaining in these tunnels?” My eyes locked on Ophelia when she asked, quickly latching on to her motive. This beautiful, brilliant woman.

“Very few items remain. What we do have has been split between factions. A few books. Jewels. Daggers. Pieces of his crown.”

“Crown?” she asked. I tilted my head, reopening my ledger. Warriors did not honor crowns, aside from the Engrossians.

“Thorn fashioned one of obsidian metal mined from the deepest stretches of the Labyrinth. He wore it down here until the day he was dragged away.”

Ophelia scratched at her wrist, fingers twitching, suppressing excitement I bet. “Would it be possible for us to see the pieces?”

“It’s not in this pocket,” Ric explained. “But it’s a few days’ journey toward your mountains. We could see it on the way to your camp.”

“You’ll show us?” I asked.

The man’s large shoulders fell with a heavy exhale. “I assume if you’re asking, it’s tied into this war we find ourselves in. I want it over as much as you do.”

It was the genuineness in his voice that knocked the last of my nightmares from my mind, at least for now. The Mindshapers were not all Aird. Here, I would not be tormented beyond my own thoughts.

“If you don’t mind me asking,” Ophelia hedged, “why? Why help us when you have the Labyrinth to protect?”

“Selfishly?” Ric sighed. “If this war ends, I hope to see my wife returned to our family and make sure Trevaneth does not fall to the queen’s control.” His wife. Though not all warriors chose to marry when we had other rituals, it made sense. Ric’s wife was in the other faction, maybe fighting on the frontlines. And that meant Trevaneth contained some of a bloodline that could be manipulated. “In the greater scheme, I want to see everyone in my son’s generation thrive in a better world. One I’ll be proud to leave to them. Will showing you this bring about that peace?”

Ophelia’s voice cracked when she said, “I hope it will.”

“Then of course I am going to help you. We can leave tomorrow, if you’re rested.”

A wicked gleam entered her eye, lips curling into a smirk. “I’m always ready, sir.”

Fucking Angels, I loved her.

We left Ricordan to unpack his things and prepare. Cypherion dismissed himself quickly after we exited, leaving Ophelia and me to stroll through the tunnels on our own. I lost track of where we walked, mulling over everything Ric had exposed.

The silence thickened with each moment, though. The back of my neck itched like I was being watched. Looking over my shoulder, I found no one.

“What’s wrong?” Ophelia broke our silence.

“Nothing,” I answered, searching the dark one more time. “Let’s turn this way.” I pulled her tighter against my side and kept walking, listening for any sounds of pebbles beneath boots.

“You were following my theories back there?” Ophelia asked.

“Yes, you’re brilliant.” A shuffle sounded down the tunnel. I kept from turning over my shoulder this time, but she noticed me stiffen.

“What is it? And don’t say nothing; you’ve been oddly silent since yesterday.” Her voice was rimmed with hurt that sliced through me.

I sighed, gently drawing circles on her shoulder as we walked. “There’s a lot on my mind right now.”

“Share it with me,” she encouraged, lacing her fingers through my own. “Let me help.”