Page 14 of A Storm of Fire and Ash

I followed Eryn down the winding staircase, each step echoing softly in the dimly lit corridor.

My heart raced from the anticipation of seeing my father.

It felt hard to breathe, not just because of my anxiety but also from this constricting dress I had chosen to wear.

Its fabric hugged my form in a way that left me feeling elegant, yet hindered my movements.

If it wasn’t for the slit that went up high, I wouldn’t’ve been able to move my legs.

I was eager for Fintan to see me in it, but I knew I shouldn’t let my thoughts linger on the prince.

“Just this way,” Eryn gestured toward a long, narrow hallway adorned with flickering torches that cast dancing shadows along the stone walls.

We descended another set of stairs, the air growing colder and mustier with each step.

“You can never come here by yourself,” she warned, pausing on the steps to fix her gaze on me.

“It isn’t safe. If you were caught, the King would surely impose a severe punishment.

I understand your desire to rescue your father, but you must wait.

Zayn mentioned he had a plan for when he returns. ”

I watched her intently, nodding as determination surged within me, eager to push onward and head into the dungeons to see my father.

But Eryn lingered, and I felt irritation and impatience lace my voice as I said, “Alright! I understand; let’s go.

” I waved her forward, urgency spilling from me. “We don’t have a ton of time!”

“The patience of a flea,” she teased lightly, a grin teasing her lips. I shot her a pointed look, and she quickly raised her hands in mock surrender.

As we continued down the stairs, an overwhelming odor assaulted my senses like a physical force. The stench of decaying food mixed with piss, shit, and body odor filled the air, thick and stale. I instinctively covered my mouth, fighting the urge to gag as the vile smell seeped into my lungs.

“Here,” Eryn said, reaching into her pocket and handing me a small pouch of peppermint. “Rub this under your nose. The oils will sting for a moment, but you’ll only smell peppermint. It’s better than the alternative.”

Gratefully, I accepted it and followed her advice, rubbing it under my nose. “Thanks,” I managed, as the sharp, minty smell began to ease the assault on my senses.

We walked down a short hallway where rats scuttled across our feet, their tiny bodies casting quick shadows on the ground.

If I hadn’t been such an animal lover, I might have been terrified of the creatures that juxtaposed the darkness.

Instead, I found them oddly cute, their beady eyes glinting as they darted away from us, lost in their own little world.

I stood resolutely in the dimly lit corridor, my heart pounding in my chest as I prepared to part from the safety of Eryn’s presence. “I’m going to wait right here. If you hear this,” Eryn whistled a soft, melodic sound, reminiscent of a dove, “come right back here to me.”

I looked at her, concern etched on my face. “And what if someone comes?” I asked, anxiety gripping my throat.

Eryn’s expression turned grave as she replied, “Run.”

The seriousness of her tone sent a chill down my spine, making my palms slick with sweat.

“If you have to run, there is a door next to the last cell on the left. It will take you through the sewers but eventually lead you outside past the castle gates. I will find you if that happens,” she assured me, her voice a steady anchor in the rising tide of dread.

I forced a smile, hoping to mask my trepidation, and began to step away, but Eryn grasped her arm gently. “Be quick, Elara,” she urged, her eyes reflecting the gravity of their situation.

With a determined nod, I pressed forward, my footsteps echoing softly off the cold stone walls.

As I moved deeper into the shadows, the oppressive darkness enveloped me, leaving no hint of daylight.

I passed several empty cells, the air heavy with an unsettling silence.

Suddenly, I approached a cell where a gaunt figure loomed at the bars.

“Ooo, would’ya look at you. Yer a pretty lil’ thang.

Why don’t’cha come over here and give me some company?

” The man’s voice slithered through the gloom, rough and unsettling.

He appeared to be little more than skin and bones, his beard a tangled mess that hung down to his chest. His skin was caked with grime, and his attire consisted solely of ragged scraps.

Repulsed, I quickened my pace, my heart racing with both fear and disgust.

“Father,” I whispered, my breath hitching in my throat.

“Adler, it’s me, Elara.” I moved past two more cells, each filled with horrors I dared not linger upon.

In one cell, a man’s grotesque display of jerking himself off made my stomach turn.

I gasped sharply, my eyes averted as I pressed onward.

“Adler Valdusian, it’s me!” I called again, my voice rising slightly above a whisper, desperation tightening my words.

“El-Elara?” The familiar voice echoed from the very end of the long, dark hall, wavering and faint. Relief surged within me at the sound, despite its weakness. I’d recognized the slight accent anywhere.

Without a second thought, I ran, urgency propelling my feet faster down the corridor, a single goal blazing in my mind: to reach father and free him.

“Father!” Tears begun streaming down my face as I finally reached the last cell in the dark, damp prison.

My father sat on the ground, slumped against the cold bars.

I fell to my knees, desperate to be on his level, and I reached my arms through the narrow space of his cell, yearning for his presence.

“Oh, Father!” I cried harder, the sound of my anguish echoing off the stone walls.

He extended his arms toward me, attempting to embrace me, but something was different.

He had changed. His once strong arms seemed alarmingly thin, and his usually sun-kissed skin appeared ghastly pale, blotting out the vibrant life that had once sparked in his charming blue eyes.

A nagging dread filled my chest as I realized he would soon hate me for the news I bore.

“You can’t be here, Elara!” he warned, his voice urgent and strained. “If you are caught, the King will punish you… or worse. Zayn said—”

“Zayn?” My heart raced as curiosity took hold of me. Why was Zayn visiting my father?

“We don’t have a lot of time,” he insisted, his eyes darting around as if the shadows might eavesdrop on our conversation.

“Zayn is a good guy, Elara. You can trust him. But do not trust the King or the Prince.” He paused, a look of despair crossing his face, and his dull eyes searched mine as if he were trying to glean strength from them.

“He told me what happened… how you got your magic.” He paused for just a moment and then continued, “I’m so sorry about your mother.

We should have told you what you are and not kept it from you; it was wrong of us.

I didn’t want you to live that lifestyle.

I’m so sorry, Sweet-Pie,” he murmured, a sorrowful weight in his tone.

My eyes widened in shock as the realization hit me—Zayn had told my father. What the fuck?

The confusion twisted within me, and I began sobbing uncontrollably.

I yearned to pull myself closer to him, to curl up in his lap and feel the comfort of his embrace.

“I didn’t mean to do it! But I—I…” My voice faltered, the words lodged in my throat as if speaking them aloud would shatter my very being.

“Shhh, shhh, it’s alright, Sweet-Pie. It was an accident,” he soothed, his voice gentle yet laden with the gravity of our circumstances.

“Isolde always knew that once you discovered the truth, it would trigger your powers. It’s why I never allowed her to tell you.

I didn’t want you to have magic… to be ridiculed and judged by humans and other species.

But oh, Sweet-Pie, was I wrong. We both were.

You are going to do great things.” He lifted his dirty, trembling hand and stroked my cheek tenderly.

“You are strong, smart, and so beautiful. Isolde always said you had your mother’s eyes, each a color of fire and ice. ”

As he traced my face, I felt a surge of emotions: love, pain, regret.

“There is something hidden in this castle,” he continued, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper.

“I don’t know exactly what it is, but there has been talk about a weapon.

You need to find it. Whatever it is, find it and destroy it.

It will be used against the Fae kingdoms. King Aymon wants full control of all realms, and he plans on achieving that with whatever weapon he possesses. ”

“How do you know this?” I asked, my brows furrowed in confusion and concern.

“I’ve been down here a long time,” he explained, looking away as if the memories pained him.

“And when I’m forced to make weapons, I hear people talk.

It’s the one thing I can do: listen. You need to get close to the prince and figure out what the weapon is, but don’t trust him.

Work with Zayn and his people to destroy it.

King Aymon cannot rule, Elara.” His words hung heavy in the air, a burden of treacherous knowledge that left my heart racing.

I knew then that our lives depended on the decisions I would make next.

I had never seen my father so serious before. The intensity in his gaze amplified the frantic beat of my heart.

“Let me free you!” I pleaded, pointing desperately toward the heavy wooden doors next to my father’s cell. “We can leave through those doors and run. We can make it back to the village and get help from Landen. He will keep us safe until we come up with a plan. I—”

My words were abruptly cut off by the unmistakable sound of a dove cooing in the distance.

Already? I’ve hardly had any time with him, though.