Page 20 of A Game of Monsters (Realm of Fey #4)

A figure stepped through the curtain of mist and shadow. Death, the physical embodiment, come to welcome me into their realm, to crown me with my failures.

I released a breath, soft clouds of shadow parting like snakes around me.

It was said that when you died, your loved ones would greet you on the other side. Even in my state I felt a swell of relief at the knowledge. But it was not my mother or father who parted the mists. Nor was it any other friends that I had lost along the way.

“Jesibel?” I said as her form revealed itself, corporeal in a place where I had no body to feel.

The thought that Cassial had killed her too ruined me.

She ran toward me and threw her arms around my middle, before my knees gave way. It was only then that I realised I had a body in this place. Looking down I saw my arms materialise, enough for me to return the hug.

“I’m so sorry,” I sobbed into her embrace. “I know I have failed.”

All my hesitations, all my lack of actions had ended up leading to the path of ruin I tried to steer away from.

Jesibel drew back, looking me up and down. She ran her hands over my body to check that I was, in fact, real.

Her mouth opened, but no sound came out.

In life, Jesibel had power over dreams. But this was just a trick again, surely. Something to punish me.

Shaking her head, Jesibel waved her soil-caked hands, and a parchment and quill conjured out of nothingness. Frantically, she began to scribble, until words were visible.

You are not dead, Robin.

I read it twice before the words faded, replaced by new ones.

This is a dream.

“Really?” I gasped, daring to hope.

She smiled through tears, not bothering to clean them from her cheeks as she began to scribble again.

The world thinks you have perished. All of you. The courts have fallen. Alive.

I could barely grasp onto my reality, to understand what the last memory I had was. I remembered darkness and death. Elinor crushed beneath stone… Cassial the vessel for Duwar and…

“Althea,” I gasped aloud.

Jesibel scribbled down something quick on the paper and held it up. What was waiting was a single word, one that cut deep.

Alive–

It wasn’t the violent ache in my shoulders that woke me. Nor was it the bite of metal cutting into my wrists, rubbing the skin raw. What finally had the power to draw me out of the dream was the shock of freezing water cascading over my face.

I gasped, jolting forwards as much as my bindings allowed. High levels of salt in the water made the numerous gashes and wounds across my body sting.

The cry that broke out of my torn throat sounded like the dying chirp of a small creature. “Jesibel–”

I was silenced by a hand pressed firmly over my lips.

“Good morning, Your Majesty.” The water cascading over my face blurred my vision from the person before me. Their voice I would recognise in both life and death.

“If I was you,” it continued. “I’d keep your screaming to a minimum. Otherwise, you’ll find the Nephilim will be here in seconds, and we need a few of them to spare.”

I blinked away the water, my mind swirling with impossibilities. As the figure before me came into focus, it was like looking into the face of a ghost. I couldn’t shake Jesibel and my dream, the words she wrote on parchment were burned into the backs of my eyes.

“Seraphine?” I gargled her name against the press of her palm.

Her sharp brows rose, eyes bright with scheming. “The one and only. Now, do you agree to stop your shouting, okay?”

I couldn’t manage to even nod, not as the true agony my body was subject to came into full focus. As did the room. All at once, without order, the details came rushing in.

I was in a room made of wood – a room that was swaying from side to side. It was lightless, not lit by candle or flame. Only the small circular window allowed for a beam of daylight to cut through. The view beyond was of the endless blue sea, waves occasionally lapping over the glass and bathing my room in darkness.

We were on a ship. That detail was as clear as the fact I wasn’t dead, just like Jesibel had believed when she first entered my dream. Turned out I hadn’t been crushed by a falling church or buried beneath rubble.

However, being alive wasn’t all it was cut out to be.

The first haunting thought was of all the people I’d last seen before the church came falling down on us. Erix. Duncan. Althea, Gyah, Rafaela. The names threaded through my chaotic mind all at once.

Jesibel had confirmed Althea was alive, but Seraphine had woken me before I got the chance to ask after the rest.

My second instinct was to move, but I couldn’t. Because my wrists were held above my head – fingers numb from the limited blood flow. My ankles weighed heavy by iron chains. Panic seized my lungs. I inhaled, only to be assaulted by salt, blood, sick and the overbearing odour of sun-bleached wood.

Seraphine must have noticed I was panicking, because the palm over my mouth soon became a claw that grasped my jaw and held my face in one place.

“Look at me,” Seraphine demanded.

I couldn’t make sense as to why she was here – Altar, I couldn’t make sense as to why I was here. I should be dead…

Duncan. Erix. Gyah. Rafaela.

My heart jolted in my throat, choking me.

Duncan. Erix.

“Robin. Focus on me ,” Seraphine hissed, ever the snake she was. “Now isn’t the time to panic. Focus. I need you to calm down, and so do your allies, if you want to make it off this fucking ship alive.”

All I heard within her words was ‘allies’ and ‘alive’. It was enough to cool the fire in my gut.

Slowly, she removed her hand, keeping it poised just in case she needed to cover my mouth again.

I didn’t shout, but kept my voice as quiet as hers had been

“What’s – going – on?” I forced out between hulking breaths.

Anxiety had taken full hold, using me as its puppet.

“I was hoping you could tell me,” Seraphine replied, her thumb sweeping away a tear I hadn’t realised I’d released. “Almost every soul in both realms saw what happened during the wedding, and those who didn’t watch through the reflection of mirrors have surely been told by those that did. The fey have been accused of harbouring Duwar, preparing to use the power to take over the human realm. Then the vision in the mirrors stopped. Next thing we knew was the church had come down and Cassial pronounced you all dead . That was two days ago.”

Two days. Two fucking days had passed.

I shook my head, fury bubbling in every bone and vein. “It was a trick. The Nephilim lied. They…” I couldn’t get my words out, nor did I need to. “Cassial planned for this.”

Saying it aloud didn’t make it feel any more real.

“I’m not as easily led as the rest of the people in this forsaken world. I see the game the Nephilim have played, and unfortunately for you, it is to the detriment of our people.”

I held Seraphine’s gaze, locking on and refusing to look away. “He killed us.”

“That’s what Lord-All-Mighty Cassial the Winged Saviour blah blah blah ” – Seraphine spat that last part – “wants the realms to believe. But the truth is much worse, Robin. He ordered those who survived the church’s destruction to be taken to the Isles of Irobel. What they will do with you there, I don’t know. But it can’t be good. Thank Altar I’ve come to save your arse. Again .”

Seraphine stepped back, her hand rubbing across her jaw as she began to pace. That’s when I got a proper look down at myself. I was topless, the iron-infused trousers I wore barely hanging on. I couldn’t begin to count the number of marks on my body. Blood and dust, grime and sweat, all blended into one across my pale skin. There was a puddle of dried sick on the floor at my feet, a splash of it smudged down my chest and stomach.

Beneath me, sawdust had been sprinkled across the floor to soak up any unwanted fluids, but it just made the stagnant puddles coagulate and hold the stench. Seraphine paced over it, unbothered.

“Cassial used us,” I spat, my throat demanding water, anxiety giving way to anger. “He… he got us together hoping to open Duwar’s portal. But–”

“ But he found out you had Duwar all this time and modified his plans last minute. Regardless of the truth, the world believes the fey had nefarious plots all along and the scene that was shown to everyone with those fucking mirrors has only solidified the lie. Altar doesn’t even know difference between the truth and a lie now.”

I knew she was right. “If enough people believe in Cassial’s lie, it becomes a truth in its own right.”

“One that is currently being used to prepare a strike on Wychwood and eradicate the fey from existence. Why, I hear you ask? Because the fey have the power to fight back, and that will forever be a problem for people who seek control.” Seraphine stopped her pacing and faced me again. “And what I bet my life on is you’re going to help me fix this. For Wychwood, and for us.”

In other words: this is your fault, Robin, fix the shit you caused .

I hung my chin to my chest, aching body and soul. “This is my fault. My hesitation, my wasted time… all led to this. If I was strong enough to kill Duncan, this wouldn’t have–”

“Shut the fuck up, Robin. We don’t have time for self-pity. Only action. Whether you killed Duncan whilst he still had Duwar within him or not doesn’t mean you have failed. It just means you have humanity, and that isn’t a weakness.”

She was right, but I wasn’t wrong either. Otherwise, she would’ve told me as much. Regardless of my plans for Duwar, my hopes to destroy the demon-god, or whatever Duwar was, for good, my hesitation to kill Duncan only ended up with the power falling in the wrong hands, just as Duwar had warned.

I gritted my teeth, swallowing a cry of discomfort as the ship swayed against the waves, making the bindings around my ankles and wrists ache. “Do you have a plan?”

“Barely.”

I narrowed my eyes. “I can practically see the cogs turning behind your eyes, Seraphine.”

She winked, actually winked. “Once an Asp, always an Asp, aye?”

I nodded, wanting free of these bindings so I could unleash my rage upon Cassial.

“Well, to start, we will be getting you out of here,” Seraphine said. “But for that, I need a key. I don’t need this weak version of you either. I need Robin Icethorn, the king. The powerful, ice-wielding fey who I’d heard so much about. So, are you capable of becoming that version of yourself again? Or are you going to continue shedding tears and wasting time?”

The answer was simple, and the only one I could offer. “Get me out of these, and I will show you.”

“Good,” she said, scrutinising me for any underlying concerns. “Your guard will return shortly to top up the dose of Gardineum in your system. When he comes in, I will allow you to play the weak version of you, just to give me enough time to do what I need to. I’m not going to ask if you can do that, because you will. The fate of those you love depends on it.”

“They are here?” I gasped, needing to hear her answer. “All of them survived?”

Pain creased her face. No, not pain. Grief. She quickly looked down to her feet and replied. “Just be ready.”

I jolted forwards, as much as the chains allowed. “Seraphine, who… who hasn’t made it?”

She refused to look at me. “Help me with this next part, and I will tell you.”

“If someone has died,” I shouted, not caring who heard, “I deserve to know.”

Elinor Oakstorm had been crushed beneath the church. Perhaps she referred to her? Somehow, I felt like she didn’t: something else was amiss.

Grief hung at the edges of my mind, but I refused it’s power, which allowed for panic to sink its talons deep into me. I suffocated against the ache of it. There was a part of me which relied on the feeling, as if it was the only emotion I deserved.

Someone else had died, back in the church, as it fell upon us. Althea, it couldn’t be her – Jesibel had said she was alive. Gyah. Duncan. Erix. Rafaela. There were possibilities as to who it could be. I didn’t dare think about it. It would ruin me before I had the chance to act. But, in a way, I’d known something was wrong the moment I’d woken up. Like an empty part of me, a hollow ache, as if the universe had carved someone out of my own soul.

“Just be ready, okay?” Seraphine didn’t wait for my answer as she walked to the corner of the room. A barrel waited, the lid taken off. From the puddle seeping from its base, I guessed it contained water. Was that how she’d made it onto the enemy’s ship?

One look at Seraphine and I knew my questions had to wait; there was no time for answers. She climbed into the large barrel. Before she lowered the lip atop her, she gave me a final command. “When I contest the Nephilim, I need you to clamp your mouth closed and stop breathing.”

“Stop breathing?”

She lifted a hand, revealing a small glass vial pinched between her fingers.

“Poison,” Seraphine said. “Inhale it, and you will die, and that wouldn’t be good, would it? I didn’t have enough time to get more antidote, so we will need to make do.”

Seraphine guided the vial to her mouth and placed it between her molars. Then she sank into the barrel and closed herself inside. All the while, my mind reeled with the fear of who had died. Who had Cassial taken from me? Or was it my own actions that led to it?

There was no knowing how long it would take for my guard to return. Minutes, maybe hours. But every second that passed left me without answers. Perhaps that was why Seraphine refused me them, because she knew me well enough. She knew how I’d act.

So, I began to scream.

I took all the physical pain, all the metal agony and balled it into a chaotic storm. And I made sure every soul on the ship heard. It wasn’t exactly a word that came out of my throat, but a string of furiously fuelled sounds.

Soon enough heavy footsteps sounded beyond the door, followed by the jingle of keys. It swung open after a beat, and a Nephilim entered. He was tall and narrow, with wings speckled black and white. I expected him to wear the tell-tale armour of the Nephilim, but it seemed my fit of screams came unexpectedly, because he was dressed in more casual attire. The closer he drew, the more I smelled the alcohol on his breath.

He shut the door behind him, but didn’t lock it.

“Shut up,” the guard demanded, hurrying toward me.

When I didn’t stop screaming, he drew back a hand and slapped it across my face. The pain was fresh and sharp. My teeth bit into my cheeks, splitting skin. Blood filled my cheeks until I gathered it up and spat it into his face.

Unbothered, I watched as the guard withdrew a familiar vial and needle. It was the same I’d used on Duncan, weakening him, punishing him, for the thing that lingered within his body. Gardineum, the golden liquid, swirled in the glass vial, the dosage far larger than anything I’d given Duncan before.

The guard didn’t just want to shut me up, he wanted to see how close to death I could get.

Focused on filling the vial, he didn’t notice Seraphine slip out from her hiding place. To be honest, I didn’t either. Not as I faced the very people that lied, tricked and used us to start a war they’d been planning for an age.

No. This was no war.

It was an extermination.

“Let us see if this shuts you up until we reach our destination,” the Nephilim growled as he moved the needle closer to my neck. “Steady now, you don’t want me slipping up where I inject.”

I snapped my teeth, fought against my bindings, all to give Seraphine more time. When the tip of the needle cut into my skin, she pounced.

Seraphine latched onto the Nephilim’s back. His eyes widened in shock, and I smiled, watching my reflection in his dark gaze. The clamp of her thighs prevented his wings from spreading, but it was the handful of grime-sodden sawdust that she stuffed into his open mouth that shut him up.

I didn’t think. Only acted. I thrust myself forwards as much as I could, cracking my forehead into his nose. The force made him gasp, allowing the sawdust in his mouth to fill his lungs.

The Nephilim began to choke. The sound was the most beautiful thing I’d heard in my life. He was forced to inhale through his nose, which turned out to be exactly what Seraphine wanted.

Then, with the elegance of an assassin queen, Seraphine spun around, took the needle and stabbed it into the Nephilim’s eye. The pop of wet flesh pleased my core. She forced the needle as deep as it could go, but it wasn’t long enough to kill him.

Just like a serpent coiling its prey, Seraphine spun around his body to face him. She clenched her teeth. I heard the crack of what sounded to be glass, the vial breaking beneath the force.

Her lips parted and Seraphine spat a coagulation of liquid onto his face.

I stopped breathing, just as she commanded. I turned my face away as a fume of gas and liquid clouded over the Nephilim’s face, drawing into his nose and spoiling his one good eye.

As the poison sank into him, Seraphine dropped like a cat, withdrew another vial from her pocket and emptied the dried contents into her mouth. I could only hope it was the antidote she mentioned… the only one she had.

Thank Altar, the Nephilim was the only one to die in this room. He dropped to his knees, skin peeling freely, blood running down his ruined face. Wherever his hands clawed, more peeled away. A few enjoyable seconds later, and his body thumped against the sawdust-, vomit- and grime-covered floor.

I was breathless from adrenaline, reeling off the death this monster deserved. Seraphine looked down at him, waiting for proof that the poison had worked. When a purple-toned liquid began to spill out of his nose and ears, pooling beneath his melted face, she sprang into action.

“Neat trick,” I said, bile scorching my throat.

“Turns the brain to mush,” Seraphine said, already reaching for something tied to the Nephilim’s belt. Her hand withdrew, holding the set of keys. “Risky way of doing it, but I really didn’t have long to decide which poison I was bringing with me. I had to pack light.”

“You… you could have… died,” I stammered, noticing her casual lack of care that she almost ingested the same poison that made the Nephilim’s brain leak out of his orifices.

“Not today, Robin.” She thumbed through the keys, trying a couple in each of my locks. “You wouldn’t know this, but an Asp is trained to use their last words as a means to guide someone else toward their final goal. Not a breath is wasted, not a word is worthless. If I was going to die, you would’ve known it. Remember that the next time you face a threat like Cassial, all right?”

How could I remember anything when I’d just woken up a captive on a Nephilim ship, with one Nephilim’s brain matter pooling beneath his down-turned face?

“And now that’s taken care of, we won’t have long before the others come looking for their missing companion.” There was a click as she finally found the right key. As the lock fell, she began undoing the rest that kept me in place, one by one.

It took a few more minutes until I was freed. I slumped to the floor, catching myself on numb hands, the wet kiss of brain matter staining my palms.

“Get out of those clothes and get yourself in his,” Seraphine snapped. “Do it quickly!”

I did as she asked. My skin shivered with disgust as we undressed the dead Nephilim. There was no time for modesty as I took my trousers off. All I cared about was the almost instant relief that came with the return of my magic, ridding myself of the iron deposits.

My skin began to tingle as the cuts and grazes knitted together. It would take time to completely heal, but the return of some strength was a blessing. I would need it for what waited outside my cell door.

“What now?” I asked the assassin.

“Survive long enough to save the world,” Seraphine replied. I’d never seen her so panicked. Likely because she had some idea of how many Nephilim were on this ship with us. She knew what we were up against, and from her expression, she had little confidence that we were going to get through this.

“How many are there?” I asked.

“Thirty winged pricks, give or take.” Seraphine looked to the door, expecting them to come barrelling in any second. When she looked at me, her brow furrowed and eyes darkened. “I need you to be up to this.”

I clicked my neck, aware the ache was slowly fading. “I am.”

“Good.” Seraphine pocketed the keys.

“The Nephilim are powerful creatures. The Creator’s own monsters. If we have a hope, we should free the others first.” I blinked and saw fire in the back of my mind. A ship engulfed in flames, feathered wings singed to black stumps. “We need Althea.”

For the second time, Seraphine looked away from me. My heart sank to the pits of my stomach. “She is unable to help you now, Robin.”

When Seraphine looked back at me, I saw the answer before she said it. “Cassial has Althea back in Durmain.”

I heard her but didn’t understand her. Unable to see the sadness in Seraphine’s eyes, I pinched mine closed and faced the darkness. In it, my mind replayed the moment the church came down on us, how Althea disappeared beneath chunks of falling stone.

Seraphine had just confirmed what information Jesibel had given me.

“No.” A rush of frozen winds uncoiled within me. “No. No. No.”

Hands grasped my shoulders. “There is a reason I didn’t tell you until now.”

If Seraphine wasn’t holding my arms down, I would’ve been slamming my fists into my skull, hoping to banish the truth out of my mind with my fists, one punch at a time.

“But she is alive?” I spat, remembering what Jesibel had said.

Seraphine paused. “For now–”

“No,” I said, fury building.

Seraphine’s gaze faltered to the side, unable to look in my eyes as she spoke. “Althea’s fate is worse than death.”

“Why does Cassial have her?”

A political prisoner, a bargaining chip to use against us. Insurance in case his plans failed him.

Knowing that Althea was alive was one thing, but the knowledge of her with Cassial didn’t quell the storm inside of me. In fact, it made it stronger, more violent and ferocious.

Seraphine clapped a hand over my thunderous heart.

“Take your pain and turn it against them. For the sake of everyone else, for the sake of Wychwood,” Seraphine said, looking deep into my eyes. “We need you, Robin.”

Seraphine didn’t need me. She needed my power . And when I opened my eyes, the tears crystalising to blades of ice on my cheeks, it was ready for release. I had no words. Nothing to say. If I opened my mouth, the winter inside of me would’ve consumed the entire ship.

Which, from her knowing grin, was exactly what Seraphine wanted.

I turned to the door, knowing Seraphine followed like a shadow. It wasn’t until I stepped out on steady feet, my heart pounding a beat in my bones, that I let the power free.

All of it.

Not an ounce was spared as I welcomed the ice-cold hate in my heart, gathered it up and encased the entire fucking ship in it.