Page 50 of A Queen’s Betrayal (Legends of Worldbinders #1)

She walked along the stone corridor, underneath strings of lanterns nailed to damp walls. Eldric wasn’t beside her, but his deep voice filled the air as if it were part of the wind. “Walk down the tunnels until you reach an opening, then look at the mural on your right.”

Arenna did as she was told. The tunnel was cold, wet. She could even smell the must and mildew. It was astonishing that Eldric’s magic allowed her to feel, smell, and see such things.

When she reached the end of the tunnel, she looked to the right and instantly gaped at the magnificent markings—small scenes depicted in white paint against stone.

Not paint at all, she realized, tracing her fingers across the rock.

They were indents carved so deeply that the stone had changed color and only appeared to be painted.

There were symbols: flames, mountains, wind, and waves, and beneath each were four figures—two men, two women. Arenna swallowed, her eyes glued to the story laid out so perfectly, with the ancient text underneath.

As the story went on, each figure held a small, diamond-shaped, glowing stone. The four of them collectively placed their stones into what appeared to be a door—a tablet, perhaps? She couldn’t quite tell.

Once the four stones were placed, the next image depicted two land masses joining as one. “Vlazias and Varios,” Arenna whispered.

And then it stopped. There was no revival of animal life, no sign of the Rot leaving. Arenna wondered if it wasn’t part of the prophecy at all. Perhaps the plague was simply a consequence of the hatred and bloodshed on the two continents. Maybe it was punishment from the Seven themselves.

But at the edge of the etchings, Arenna noticed a sliver of light.

Only a small fraction, barely visible unless she positioned herself just right.

She stepped closer, realizing that the light traveled up the length of the wall, veered left, then shot back down, only to veer right again.

“A door?” she whispered, though no one could hear her.

She pressed her fingers into the crook of the stone and tried to pull. The stone groaned and shifted, confirming her suspicion that it was, in fact, a door, but it didn’t open. Arenna pushed her fingers in farther and pulled again. Dust puffed from the cracks, but still, the door remained sealed.

Feeling slightly defeated, Arenna stepped back and crossed her arms. The light could be coming from anything. If she could touch the stone and smell the dust and mildew in Eldric’s vision, why couldn’t she open it?

Maybe because it was locked in the real world, and thus, locked here too.

“Time to come out,” Eldric’s voice echoed through the phantom wind again.

Her vision rippled, and in a blink, the tunnels and rock disappeared, and she was back in her seat at the war table. The text of the translated prophecy still lay before her, open to the part that spoke of the four elementalists.

She looked up to find Kayson standing with his palms braced against the table. “What did you see?” he asked. The remaining faces—Marea, Bramnen, Wylder, Eldric, and Rodsan—turned toward her, all wearing equally confused expressions.

“I saw what everyone else did, I assume,” Arenna said, though she knew there was more.

Kayson’s eyes narrowed. “You saw something else. What was it?”

“I think I found a door,” she admitted. “There was this light, too.” The council gaped in surprise. Arenna blinked. “Have none of you seen it before?”

She looked between their stunned faces, bewildered. How could something so obvious have gone unnoticed? Surely someone would have noticed the light, or the way the stone curved unnaturally.

“Tell me more,” Kayson urged, gripping the edges of the table so tightly that his knuckles turned white. “About the light. And the door.”

“There’s nothing more to tell. I saw a door and light beyond it,” Arenna said, twirling her thumbs nervously. She then asked, “You truly didn’t know it was there?”

Marea shook her head as she stared down at the map on the table. “We’ve all been to that cove. There has never been a door.”

“Not once,” Wylder added.

Kayson tilted his head toward Eldric. “What did you show her?”

The Lord Justice raised his palms in submission. “The same thing I’ve shown all of you.”

“Let me see.” Kayson extended his hand. Many deathly silent minutes passed before the king whispered, “Sisters above.” He ripped his hand from Eldric’s, his golden eyes flaring as they locked onto Arenna’s. “What did you do?”

“ Nothing ,” she hissed back.

Kayson pulled Marea’s stack of texts toward him, inspecting each title before setting it aside. He opened the final book and ran a finger down the page. “We need to get back to the cove, then to Mournstern.”

“Mournstern?” Marea pushed off the marble pillar with her boot, confused.

He slid the book over to Bramnen, who carefully scanned the text. “ In the crevice’s glow, a promise untold. The door yields to one, whose destiny unfolds. With fire in hand, she’ll shape fate’s design, a wielder of flames, her power divine .”

Kayson explained, “This transcription was found in Drakian scholar texts, kept in Mournstern for safekeeping.” He shut the book. “I never understood what door it referred to or where to find it, so I must have subconsciously buried it.”

“So, we go to Valdows,” Marea said, glancing again at Arenna. “She opens the door. Then what?”

Kayson raked a hand through his messy hair. “Before Valdows, Mournstern. We’ve been stagnant in this prophecy for years, but it seems we were just missing our next step. Mournstern is closer, and we can make sure we aren’t missing anything before going to Valdows.”

Arenna’s heart plummeted when her eyes met Kayson’s.

To think that after all this time, the Fae King had been searching for answers while she was trapped in Brookworth, and neither of them knew.

“I’ll do whatever I can to help,” she said.

“But how can anything still be stored in Mournstern? There’s nothing left of it. ”

“That’s what we wanted Brookworth to think,” Bramnen said with a grin.

Mournstern had once been the great city of the Draka people. When they first arrived on Pheanixios and claimed their home, it was where the first dragon egg was discovered, leading them to the Draka Mountains, where hundreds of dormant eggs lay, alongside a few fully grown dragons.

Arenna stared at him, stunned. The idea that something had been hidden beneath the devastation all this time—it continued to unravel everything she thought she knew.

Each secret revealed chipped away at the version of history she’d been raised to believe, slowly shifting her view of the Fae.

And with each new truth, their case grew stronger.

If Vlazias had hidden secrets in plain sight for decades . . . what else had been buried? What else had been a lie?

She shook her head slowly. “I remember reading about the devastation caused to Mournstern during the war.” The violent, graphic accounts in Brookworth’s library came rushing back—streets drowned in blood, towers shattered to rubble, dragons slaughtered in the skies.

But now, Arenna realized how much of it had been carefully curated.

Twisted . “How could anything still be there?”

Eldric answered, his voice colder than usual, but without its usual venom.

“Because what was left was meant to look like ruins,” he said.

“After the First War , when the Drakian people were wiped out, their city wasn’t just destroyed.

It was dismantled. Erased . People executed.

Dragons stripped of their wings, all by human hands.

And then, what remained was buried—so your kind would never know it had existed. ”

“You speak as if you were there,” Arenna said.

He shook his head. “No, I am old, but not even Fae live that long.” Eldric tightened his grip on his jeweled staff.

“My family had royal ties to the once mighty Drakian line. Their legends have been passed down through generations. Though I never lived that life or fought in that war,” he glanced at the teal jewel at the top of his staff, “it pains me to know what they endured.”

She could have sworn his gaze softened toward her, just for a moment, and Arenna didn’t know what to make of that.

Rodsan placed a hand on Eldric’s shoulder. “We will restore their lands again. They will live on.”

A murmur of agreement passed around the table. Silence stretched, filled only by the crashing of the waterfall into its blue pool.

Kayson leaned back slightly, his tone steady but resolute, shattering the calm silence.

“There’s someone we need to find in the ruins of Mournstern.

Another piece of the puzzle we’re entangled in.

If you were able to see something we couldn’t before, maybe there’s something there only you can uncover,” he said to Arenna.

The thought of someone still living in the ruins of the Drakian city made her skin buzz with anticipation. There was such a vast world beyond Brookworth—so much to unravel and discover.

“And after the fact, can we ripple into Valdows?” Arenna asked. The thought of returning to Varios, walking through its towns and sleeping in its cities, made her stomach clench with dread. Surely, someone would recognize her.

“The distance is too great,” Kayson explained.

He pointed to Worden on the map, dragging his finger upward toward House Ritavolin.

“This is the farthest we can travel in one ripple, give or take.” Then, he traced his finger across the ocean to House Lorfin.

“If we ripple from Emerlon, we might make it to Lorfin, but no one’s ever succeeded in rippling across the ocean. ”