Page 12 of Prisoner of Darkness and Dreams (Fated to the Sun and Stars #3)

Leon

I ’ve been to many foul places in my life, but few as insidious as Trova’s so-called “holy” city.

A hot wind whistles between the sparkling white buildings, but there’s none of the intense smells or noise you’d usually expect in a city.

The streets are spotless and quiet—yet none of it feels peaceful or welcoming.

Instead, a stifling atmosphere presses down on us as soon as we enter the outskirts of Qimorna.

The whole ivory metropolis makes me think of a skeleton picked clean by vultures and baked in the midday sun.

“This place is creepy,” Alastor murmurs as we ride along one of the pristine avenues. “Everyone looks like they’re walking on eggshells.”

He’s right. There are plenty of people about, ordinary folk going about ordinary lives, but they all wear the same, tense expression. I don’t think they can ever let themselves forget that they live under the watchful gaze of the high temple.

I try to ignore all of it, letting my soldiers watch for threats as I focus on the steady thud of my heart—and the answering call of Ana’s.

When we first approached Qimorna, there was nothing.

It’s been nearly three weeks since Ana was taken.

Three torturous weeks, and not an hour of them has gone by where I haven’t thought of her.

Yet when I got to the city and I concentrated, not knowing what to expect, I felt no sign or signal of her presence.

For a cursed half an hour, I was afraid the sawlamoor ritual hadn’t worked, that despite my burning desire to find her, all I’d get would be silence.

But then, deeper into the streets, it started.

I could feel as much as hear it. The faint, steady thump of a heartbeat. Ana’s heartbeat. I knew it was hers with the same certainty that I feel the thud of my own heart, responding to hers like an echo.

All I had to do was follow that sensation. With each mile, the resonance grows louder and the draw stronger, like the tightening of a mooring line between two ships at sea.

“We need to move northwest,” I mutter to Alastor, and he nods, subtly signaling to the others.

We’re riding in groups of twos and threes so as not to attract attention.

Tira’s at the back with Damia and Stratton, with Hyllus and Phaia in the middle.

There was no point trying to convince Ana’s best friend to stay in Tread this time.

She was so determined to train herself up into someone who wouldn’t hold us back that she worked herself to the bone—and it paid off.

She’s vastly improved her ability to defend herself, and it turns out she has a knack for archery.

Her aim is excellent, and I’ve seen her working with the rebels incorporating her geostri magic.

In the end, we decided it was safe for her to come with us today—certainly safer than telling her to stay in Tread. She’s as stubborn as Ana.

But aside from Tira, it’s just me and my soldiers. There were members of the Hand willing to enter the lion’s den to help us find Ana, but we needed fewer people, not more. Larger numbers just increase our chances of getting noticed. The only real point of contention was Harman.

He wanted to come, and I would’ve let him. By now he’s proven his dedication to rescuing his sister. But the rest of the Hand had different ideas. They weren’t about to let the head of their entire movement stroll into Caledon’s lair. They put it to a vote, and Harman lost.

Alastor told me Harman wouldn’t defy the wishes of his people, not when doing so would undermine the entire foundation of trust and democracy he’s tried to build. I can respect that—it’s something my brother Fairon would do. But personally, nothing would stop me from going on this mission.

“There’s certainly more red robes about now,” Alastor mutters under his breath.

I nod. The number of civilians has been thinning out as we follow Ana’s heartbeat, but the streets are no less busy, filled by clerics of varying age and ranks. This city is the hub of the Temple’s operations, and it stopped being just an institute of worship a long time ago.

Now it’s practically its own empire. There are administration buildings here, courts and tax houses, warehouses, and vast livery yards to stable a small army’s worth of horses, carts, and carriages.

“We must be heading in the right direction,” I say. “They’ll be keeping her somewhere crawling with clerics, you can be sure about that. Dismount and let’s find somewhere for the horses.”

Nearly everyone around us is on foot, and we’re more noticeable on horseback, even carefully divided into small groups. We can’t risk raising any alarms too soon.

I know that Hyllus heard my order and used his sensic magic to share my message with the others, helping to maintain the illusion we’re traveling separately as we each find a hitching post for our horses.

We choose carefully. When we come back for them, we may be doing so with half the Temple breathing down our necks.

A russet-coated hound circles Alastor and me as we tie up our horses, snuffling at the ground.

The korigos Ana picked up in Filusia has been restless since she went missing, taking to wandering the countryside around Tread and returning days later, muddy and bright-eyed in his glamoured collar.

I expected him to eventually stop coming back altogether.

He was gone when we set off for Qimorna, only to pick up our trail a day down the road.

He’s refused to leave us alone since then, following us all the way. Short of tying him up, I can’t stop him, and unlike my grandfather, I don’t fancy the bad luck that surely comes from imprisoning one of the Miravow’s mysterious, gods-blessed creatures. So Dots has come along for the ride.

The thudding of Ana’s heart is so clear now it seems strange to me that the others can’t hear it. We’re so close, so near to the moment when I’m with her again.

We proceed with caution, avoiding Temple employees where we can without making it clear that’s what we’re doing. Dots trails behind after us, looking like a stray dog, distracted by the chance to examine every sight and smell he comes across.

We’re nearing the corner where our street crosses a main avenue when the korigos suddenly yelps and bounds ahead of us. He stops at the end of the street, turning and blocking our way. I glance back at Phaia, who gives a small shake of her head. But Hyllus frowns, concentrating.

Dots is growing increasingly agitated, dropping down on his front legs and growling at us, his tail swishing in the air.

“ There’s something coming down the avenue ,” Hyllus’s voice murmurs in my ear, though he’s still several feet from me. “ A big group of people. We need to fall back, quickly. ”

We move in against the walls of the street, out of view of anyone passing by. I can hear it now, the clop of horse’s hooves and the thump of marching feet.

We watch as rows of cleavers in their maroon tunics march past, perfectly synchronized. They’re followed by a pair of bearers on horses and then an elaborate golden litter carried by more cleavers. The sides are open to display the person inside, the ends of his red cape pooling by his feet.

It’s Caledon, I’m sure of it. He’s being paraded through the city like a king—a level of pomp and circumstance I’m sure the Grand Bearer wouldn’t allow for anyone else. Loathing flares in my veins at the sight of him—the evil worm who took Ana from me and did who-knows-what to her.

The urge to split the earth open beneath the cleavers’ feet threatens to overwhelm me.

How tempting it is, the idea of watching that litter go tumbling down into the depths of this cursed city.

But I’m not an idiot. Caledon’s surrounded by highly trained twin-blessed.

At least one of them would be able to do something to save their precious leader before he perished.

Besides, revealing our presence now risks losing our chance to find Ana, and I’m not risking that for anything, even the prospect of a dead Caledon .

We stand perfectly still as the procession moves on, until the sound of it has faded even from Hyllus’s superior hearing. I search around for Dots and find him seated neatly by Alastor’s side, his tongue lolling.

“Thank you.” I nod at the animal, knowing he’s intelligent enough to understand.

His behavior before wasn’t just some animal instinct.

Korigos have magic that allows them to guide people on the right path.

But only if you’re one of the rare people it’s decided to be loyal to.

Dots is certainly loyal to Ana, and he’s just saved our mission to rescue her.

We’ve lingered here long enough, and Ana’s heart is still calling me. We cross the avenue and continue up toward an area with fewer and fewer residential buildings.

“There,” I say to Alastor, nodding toward a tall, wide building among a cluster of warehouses. “That’s where they’re holding her.”

Damia sidles up to us as the others linger just off the road leading to the building.

“There’s a good vantage point from that warehouse opposite,” she says. “That should let us see where the main entrances are.”

I’m itching to get inside, but I also trust my soldiers.

Damia’s right that we need to at least get some idea of the security on this place before we go storming in.

Up on the roof, we can see three sides of the building, including the half dozen clerics posted at the main entrance, and the air shaft on one side that runs into the ground.

“It’s got underground levels,” I point. “And look at how small the windows are. Seems like a discreet containment center to me.”

“There’s a back entrance too,” Phaia says. “Fewer guards on that one.”

“Except they’re cleavers,” Damia points out unhappily.

Stratton blows air out through his teeth. “Using sensic magic as a distraction is out. Seems like we’ll either have to risk going in through the front or making a scene to get in the back. Either way, it’ll probably get messy.”

“Hold on,” Hyllus says. “Look.”

The back door opens, and a figure with a purple stripe through his red robes steps out. His bald head shines in the sun and I recognize Sophos: the bearer with nine lives who keeps slipping through our grasp. He stops to talk to the guards.

“What’s he saying?” I ask Hyllus.

“Someone called Anointer Yelney wants to talk to them.”

“An anointer is a senior cleric,” Tira translates.

“He’s saying there’s some important development regarding Hallowbane that she wants to discuss with them. He says they can go because a new shift will be along soon anyway.”

With that, the guards and the bearer move back inside the building.

I exchange glances with my soldiers.

“Since when does a bearer bother delivering a message like that?” Alastor asks.

“Exactly,” Damia says. “It’s got to be a trap, right?”

“You think he knows we’re here?” Stratton asks. “But if so, why not just send out some of those creeps to attack us already?”

I don’t answer right away. Weighing things up, it seems farfetched to assume that performance was entirely for us, but the timing feels like a strange coincidence.

“If it’s not a trap, we’re currently wasting a golden opportunity to get inside,” I point out.

There’s yapping from below. Peering down over the edge of the roof we’re perched on, I see Dots turning in circles on the ground, looking up at us and making all kinds of yipping sounds.

Once my eyes are on him, the korigos proceeds to dart toward the back entrance of the building, pacing in front of it while staring up at us.

“If Dots doesn’t quiet down soon, he’s going to attract attention,” Tira says.

“He wants us to go down there,” I explain. “He thinks we should try that door.”

“We’re going to stake it all on a fox’s opinion, aren’t we?” Alastor asks weakly .

I shrug. “He was right before. And Stratton had a point—if we don’t try this, there are only riskier, messier options.”

Down on the ground again, we move quickly to the back entrance with Hyllus listening out for the arrival of the new guards. We stop by the door, simultaneously reaching out with our powers to detect the telltale fizz of magic on it.

“That lock’s enchanted,” Phaia observes. “The mechanism won’t turn without geostri magic.”

Hyllus nods. “There’s an aesteri alarm too.”

“Hyllus, can you nullify the alarm?” I ask.

“I can try,” he says.

“And the lock?” I turn to Phaia and Alastor. My geostri magic won’t be much use in this scenario.

“My sand probably won’t weigh enough to turn the mechanism,” Alastor says, turning to the silver-haired soldier.

Phaia pulls a small stone from her pocket, no bigger than a piece of gravel. “It won’t be neat,” she warns. “But it’ll get the job done.”

“Go ahead. We probably don’t have much time left,” I order.

Phaia wedges the small stone into the keyhole, turning to Hyllus. He holds up his hand, magic fizzing around the door.

“That should do it,” he says a few seconds later.

“Should?” Alastor asks.

“I might have done nothing,” Hyllus says mildly. “In that case, just prepare for a very loud noise.”

Phaia lays her fingers over the keyhole for a moment, then steps back.

“Watch your faces,” she warns.

There’s a groan as the stone rapidly expands, and the metal of the lock buckles, pulling the internal bolt loose.

We all freeze, but there’s no sudden alarm, just the sound of the door clicking open. Phaia’s stone is still wedged inside the mangled lock .

“One look at that, and the new shift will know something’s up,” Alastor points out.

“That’s why we’re not going to wait around for them to turn up,” I say. “Now, let’s go get Ana.”

“And what do we do when we finally run into some clerics?” Tira asks skeptically.

“We kill them before they can raise the alarm,” I reply. “Got it?”

Tira reaches beneath her cloak and pulls out the bow and quiver of arrows she had strapped to her back, slinging the quiver over her shoulder.

“Absolutely,” she replies.

They follow me inside, and I follow the sound of Ana’s heartbeat, thundering louder and louder in my ears.