Page 7 of Duskbound (Esprithean Trilogy #2)

CHAPTER SIX

My mind was spinning with everything I had seen. The questions and revelations came one after another, only to bring about more questions.

I walked back to the fortress between Vexa and Aether. The street leading back to the gates was still active but most of the residents seemed to be crowding into the buildings seeking warmth.

I couldn’t shake the feeling of helplessness. I needed to do something.

Raine would have stopped for that woman today and demanded help, or done what she could herself. All of team V would have.

I thought of them in their tents in Stormshire. Unaware that they were risking their lives to help a realm that was lying to them.

Now more than ever, I needed to get back to Sídhe. If the Guard knew, if the people fighting this war knew what they were doing, what they were contributing to, they would be shocked, perhaps they would even rise up, refuse to be a part of it. They would, wouldn’t they?

My thoughts drifted to Riftdremar, my birthplace, and I wondered what had truly happened to it—what had truly caused the war, and if everything I had been taught was a lie. If it was simply an uprising turned catastrophic, or if there was more to it. If the Aossí who destroyed it even knew what they were doing, if they knew it would result in complete destruction, in genocide.

The real question was, what could I do? The thought of escaping on the back of Tryggar crossed my mind. But I knew I’d never be left alone for long enough to make a great escape. I wouldn’t even be able to mount him fast enough to try. Much less how to fly him or command him to take me anywhere. Where to go.

As soon as we made it through the gates, the sounds of Ravenfell vanished once again, leaving only the crunch of our boots as we made our way towards the tower. I felt the eyes of Vexa and Aether weighing on me. The silence grew like a steady pressure in my ears. They had shown me the truth and were now waiting for my reaction.

All the things I wanted to say refused to form on my lips.

"Thank you for showing me," I managed to get out. My breath heavy. "I need time to think."

Vexa stepped forward, her expression softening. "Of course you do?—"

"Time?" Aether's voice cut through the air like ice. "You've had nothing but time. Weeks of it." He turned to face me, shadows beginning to curl around his fingers. "And after everything you've seen today, you still need more?"

"Aether—" Vexa warned, but he continued.

"The devastation, the suffering—none of that moves you?" His golden eyes burned with barely contained fury. "Or perhaps you simply don't care. Perhaps you're too comfortable in your ignorance, removed from it all. "

"That's not fair," I shot back, though my voice trembled. "You can't expect me to just?—"

"To just what?" He stepped closer, his height towering over me. "To acknowledge the truth when it's right in front of you? To face what your precious Sídhe has done?"

"I'm trying to understand?—"

"No," he snarled. "You're stalling. Buying time while your friends continue to drain us dry." His shadows deepened, and I could feel the temperature drop around us. "If time is what you need, I'm happy to provide more. Shall we see how another month of isolation inspires you?"

"That's enough." Vexa moved between us, her violet eyes flashing. "This isn't helping anyone." She turned to me, her voice gentler. "What you saw today... it's a lot to take in."

Aether made a sound of disgust. "We don't have time for coddling?—"

"And we don't have time for threats," Vexa urged. She faced him fully now. "You want her to trust us? To believe in our cause? This isn't the way."

They stared each other down for a long moment before Aether finally stepped back, though the darkness still rolled off him in waves.

"Fine," he bit out. "Take all the time you need. But remember this—while you sit in that tower contemplating, children are starving. Families are losing everything." His voice dropped lower, deadly quiet. "Their blood is on your hands now too."

He turned and stalked away, leaving Vexa and me in tense silence. She sighed, running a hand through her hair.

"He's being an ass," she said finally. "But he's right about one thing—time isn't a luxury we have much of anymore."

I nodded, unable to find words as the weight of everything pressed down on me.

"Come on," she said softly. "Let's get you back to the tower. ”

The walk back was silent, heavy with all that had been said and unsaid. But Aether's words echoed in my mind with each step, burning like brands against my conscience.

Their blood is on your hands now too.

I heard the dull thud of the closing door and lock behind me.

Alone, I crawled into the bed trying to find warmth in the sheets I pulled over my head. I relived the day over in my mind until sleep finally took me.

Darkness surrounded me, illuminated by bright, glittering stars. Reflective dust was scattered through the velvet abyss, creating shapes and twisting as it morphed from pale white to pearlescent pastels. The place, wherever I was, felt familiar, like I had been here before, perhaps more than once.

And then I recognized the orb, the one fluttering in the distance, making its way towards me with effortless grace. It looked like a mind, but different somehow—as if it radiated colors beyond the spectrum, yet in simple flashes, never encroaching fully on the silvery opalescent shape.

I goaded the web up my spine, tingling as it braided itself gently, caressing my skull in shifts of those same colors, and let it spill out of me, tendrils twisting through the air, thrumming towards the orb.

I had seen it before, but it was always out of reach… always just beyond what I could try and understand, often fleeing off into the darkness when I got too close. But this time, it pulsed brighter as my web surrounded it.

I was gentle, and slow. I didn’t want to scare it this time. I longed to know what it was—why it was always here, what this dream was, where this dream was.

A single fiber of the web reached out and neared the surface of the orb, the light pulsing from both just beginning to intertwine when ? —

Decide, Fiandrial.

The words came out like a symphony of hisses from every direction just before I made contact, panic rushed through me, and everything went dark once more.

But not for long.

Suddenly, I felt myself drop into a chair, into a room I didn’t recognize. I tried to look around, tried to move, but I was trapped in place, my eyes locked on a desk and window ahead of me, the sun basking brightly through the glass. I felt fingers that were not my own thrum against the armrest of the chair, and a voice that was not my own clear its throat—his throat.

And footsteps behind me.

“There’s a reason they haven’t returned.” A velvety voice spoke from behind, something strained in the tone, and my heart felt as though it might shatter right there. The sensation of eyes misting caressed my mind, but no tears formed at the ones I saw through.

Laryk.

I wanted to whip my head around, I wanted to look at him, but I was frozen.

“I know it’s been hard for you. I don’t understand their sudden absence either, but I don’t think the two are connected. You have to move on, you can’t keep doing this to yourself.”

I recognized the voice coming from my lips as Mercer’s.

“They attack nearly on a schedule. For the last two years, they have never rested for more than two weeks,” Laryk hissed, his voice growing closer as I heard footsteps round the desk, and suddenly, he was in front of me. I felt my heart stop in my chest, or what should have been my heart.

His eyes were bloodshot, hair unkempt in a way I had never seen before. His typically perfectly creased black shirt bore wrinkles in the sleeves, and there was something gaunt about his features. I wanted to reach out, to touch him, but Mercer’s arm stayed maddeningly still.

“They took her,” he spat, a spark of rage flying across his eyes .

“No one survives a horde of shadows like that.”

“They leave. The bodies. Behind,” Laryk seethed, each word a calculated tick.

Mercer hesitated momentarily, bringing a glass with amber liquid up to his lips and taking a sip, the taste of whiskey invading my senses, burning my throat.

“If what you’re saying is true, then it opens up entirely new questions,” Mercer said softly, as if trying to make his rough voice as gentle as possible.

“And what exactly are you implying?” Laryk growled.

“You know how it looked, Laryk. Even you hesitated.”

“They weren’t coming from her. It was a trick of the night.” Laryk’s voice was strong, but there was a subtle crack in his tone.

I had never seen him like this. He had always been so poised, so collected and unreadable. So unbearably, infuriatingly confident—wearing that mask that kept his feelings unknown to all. I barely recognized the man before me, the man who looked like he was on the edge of a cliff.

“But that’s not why I hesitated. You know this. I’ve already told you,” Laryk murmured.

“The figure.” Mercer sighed, placing his glass on the desk ahead.

“I know what I saw. For a split second. It happened so quickly.” Laryk shook his head, squinting.

“The form of a man. Darkness rippled off of him. I’ve thought it this whole time, that there was more to them. That the shadows were a disguise.”

A haunting silence fell as Laryk’s eyes darted from Mercer to the window and down to a crate of glass jars, something dark flashing across his features.

“So what do you want to do?” Mercer simply asked.

“Employ everyone. Every single member of this Guard. Bring them here. To Stormshire.”

“Laryk, you’re acting from emotion ? — ”

“The King has given me full control of the Guard,” he countered.

“When they come, and they will, there will be no holding back. And we will be ready. They will finally feel exactly what we’re capable of,” Laryk continued, shooting up from the desk, turning to grip the windowsill, eyes fixed on something in the distance.

“We will rain destruction down on them. They will return what's mine.”

My eyes shot open as the obsidian room closed in around me, my heart hammering against my chest. I threw the covers back, planting my feet on the ground and running to the door before slamming my fists into it over and over.

The lock slid open, and Aether's golden eyes narrowed at me.

"How unexpected," he drawled, taking in my wild-eyed state. "Finally reached your breaking point?"

"I’m ready to talk," I said quietly, meeting his gaze.

He merely crossed his arms, leaning against the doorframe, forehead creased in contemplation. But his eyes seemed to shift, something soft flashing across them in an instant, vanishing just as quickly as it arrived.

"Let's see if you truly mean it."