Page 53 of A Spell of Bones and Madness (Nostos #2)

Chapter Forty-Two

Kohl

P ugnant washes of decay and copper filled the air—strangely, the scents were accompanied by something else, something sweet, contrasting the foul burn in Kohl’s nose.

He patted his hands around the walls of the cave, searching for a burnt out torch, a stick, anything he could light with his striker to allow Kohl to see what lay before him.

Darkness consumed him. Not the kind that wraps around you in the night in a cool embrace, but the bleak, unadulterated darkness that comes before death.

On the ship, Edmund only mentioned one thing about the caves he now walked through—not to mind the screams—but all Kohl heard was buzzing.

A long, piercing, incessant buzzing, not unlike the one he heard the first time he used the spelled compass to find Skiatha and The Nostos .

It was worse than those gods-damned headaches he got before he needed to sacrifice blood to him .

Was it because he was so close to Hades now?

Return to me, My King. Return, return, return.

The caves before him seemed everlasting, no shimmer or light as he stepped one foot further inside.

It had only been moments ago that Kohl entered the caves, but even after a few steps he could not seem to find his way out if he wished.

Why had Edmund sent him here alone? Where were the men that were supposed to meet him—these acolytes of the Olympi?

Another step forward caused a creaking noise to echo, mixing with the incessant buzzing.

Was it a trap? A secret trigger that would send arrows straight at his chest?

Beginning from the depths of the cavern, everything lit up.

Blue flames snaked from the base of the cave’s wall, twisting forward, leading Kohl deeper into the mountain.

He traced his hand above the sapphire embers, but no heat radiated out.

Instead, tiny crystals began to form along his palm.

Recoiling, Kohl gripped his hand close to his chest. That was all he needed, another scarred palm.

The ice melted, leaving a wet stain on his shirt.

At least he wasn’t hallucinating. He would not put it past the Olympi to create visions to keep unwanted people from his sacred mountain.

You are almost home, My King , that voice hissed once more.

Thin black snakes writhed on the ground, some curling around his ankles as he followed the blue-lit path.

Serpents never bothered him—their venom could not hurt him, not like others, not like the gods.

He was immune, something he learned as a child when playing with a venom-laced sword of his father’s.

Now he knew why. Sorcerer blood was born from that very poison.

The blackness that slithered through their veins when magic was used proved that.

Magic he’d finally learned to control—because magic was power, and he needed all the power he could get to get rid of Ander. Permanently.

The false gods will be dealt with in time, My King , again that voice sounded, though this time, it seemed to come from the very cave itself.

The path opened to a large, onyx-covered room.

A dais stood on the opposite end, gold veining coursing its way through the stone up into the two metallic thrones that loomed there.

One was occupied by an all too familiar woman.

Blonde hair now hung far below her shoulders, streaked with crimson, head fallen forward, shoulders slumped, but if those eyes were open Kohl would not be able to face the amber orbs.

Kora was more of a mother than Zahra ever had been, and now he would willingly watch as she was tortured.

Oh how the mighty had fallen. But for the good of Odessia—for peace—this is how it had to be.

The other throne was occupied by a man—his features a stark reminder of the woman he had lost. Kohl had only met Aidon a handful of times, but the piercing brown eyes, deep brown hair, angular face and nose—they were an exact replica of Katrin’s.

Aidon gazed back toward Kohl with a lifeless expression, eyes now glassy, darker than he remembered.Was her father under some sort of spell then?

Pallid skin swept down his body, peeking out from beneath black robes.

A thick golden collar gripped around his throat, pinning him to the back of the chair, and matching circles encased his wrists.

“Everyday he grows weaker,” a raspy voice whispered.

Kohl’s gaze darted toward Kora. “I knew he was reckless, an untamed man, but drinking from the Lethe—it did something to him. More than the memories. I can’t feel him anymore—feel his soul, that call, the voice inside my head is silent, nothing but echoes of the past. It only gets worse. ”

Blood pumped through Kohl’s heart, each beat causing his lungs to tighten more.

Kora was hanging on by a thread, grasping at what life force she had left, and he could not help her—even if he wanted to.

Not after learning what the cost of peace was, not when these gods lived by a code that only protected their own.

“You don’t need to listen to him, Kohl. I have watched you grow into this formidable man. A kind and just man.” Those amber orbs hit him—a match to Ember’s, but the same unwavering flicker as Katrin’s even when faced with death.

“A lot has changed over the months since you left, Kora,” Kohl replied. It was too much, holding her stare, instead Kohl gazed off, focusing on the slithering black creatures.

“So it is time then. You have it—the bident. That is why you are here—to finish what he started.”

Rattling filled the cavern, reverberating off every inch of obsidian rock.

“Not to finish, to be reborn. Return forgotten souls to their rightful bodies.” The voice that spoke sounded like Aidon’s, yet it cut through the air like a throwing knife.

A distortion of the whispering voice that filled his mind with incessant chattering.

“This bident, as you call it—how is that the key to returning you to your rightful bodies?” Kohl questioned.

Bile rose in Kohl’s throat. The cave around him seemed to darken and cool.

Laughter echoed off its obsidian walls and as Kohl looked up, Kora’s stare met his.

Her eyes flashed with the reflection of blue flames. Then everything went black.