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CHAPTER FORTY-NINE

IRENE

T he prince, unconscious, seemed heavier with every step—a weight as much emotional as physical. Irene’s muscles screamed, her arms burning with every movement, but she refused to falter. Not in front of Dax. She would never show weakness, no matter how her body begged for relief.

The rustle of leaves and the snap of twigs beneath their boots blended into the unnatural silence. An invisible tension pressed down on them, thick as mist, laced with a malevolent energy that curled in her lungs. The shadows in the forest stretched long and restless, their edges quivering, as if torn between lingering or lunging for them. Yet, somehow, they seemed to guide them, parting just enough to carve a path forward. When Irene finally lifted her eyes, her breath caught.

The Mountain Nehalannia loomed before them. It wasn’t just a landmark, it was a presence. Sentient. Waiting. Its jagged peak split the sky, trapping gray clouds in a slow, tormented dance. The mountain’s edges toyed with her vision—sometimes blurred, sometimes so sharp she swore she could feel their bite against her fingertips. She blinked, and the mountain seemed closer, as though it were moving toward them.

A shiver, cold and biting, raced down her spine.

“It’s pulling us…” she murmured, unable to stop herself.

Beside her, Dax said nothing. He moved steadily, his grip on Jace firm, his breathing controlled. Irene felt a flicker of irritation—no, jealousy. He had this maddening way of walking as if he belonged to this strange, hostile world, as if nothing could touch him. She clenched her jaw, shaking the thought away. This wasn’t the time.

The forest began to change.

The vibrant leaves and dense branches gave way to twisted, blackened trunks. Dead branches snapped under their boots like brittle bones. A bone-deep chill seeped from the ground itself, needling into Irene’s fingers. She could feel them numbing around Jace, but she refused to let go.

And then, they reached the ruins.

Shattered stone blocks lay scattered like forgotten bones. Crumbling pillars, slick with black moss, stood like mourners in the half-light. Symbols carved into the stone pulsed faintly, flickering with whispers of ancient magic, their meanings long devoured by time. Irene slowed, her eyes scanning every detail.

Something about the silence here was worse than the cold.

It wasn’t just an absence of sound, it was a void. A bottomless abyss that swallowed even thought.

Dax broke the silence, pointing toward the mountain’s base.

Two gaping openings yawned in its side, identical and unnatural. Too perfect to be formed by nature. Too wrong to have been carved by men. Irene narrowed her eyes. The entrances looked like empty eye sockets, hollow and waiting. The grotesque image of a skull burned itself into her mind.

“Which one?” she asked finally, her voice hoarse. Dax didn’t answer immediately. His eyes, bright even in the darkness, flickered between the two entrances. Irene watched him, her irritation simmering. Even here, at the edge of madness, he seemed calculating—almost inhuman. Before she could let the frustration fester, he gestured toward the left.

A faint blue light pulsed from within, weak and flickering. It wasn’t a welcome glow. It was a warning.

Irene shivered, but she nodded. Together, they stepped forward and vanished into the dark. The air changed the moment they entered.

Irene staggered under Jace’s weight, every step a torment. Her muscles screamed, her breath came sharp and ragged. Sweat dripped from her temples, carving cold trails down her burning skin before vanishing into the damp collar of her shirt. Every inhale felt like dragging a blade through her ribs.

But it wasn’t just exhaustion pressing down on her.

This silence—it was alive.

Not empty. Not ordinary. But a crushing force, pressing against their bones, swallowing every sound as if the mountain itself demanded their submission. These walls, these stones, this air… all of it felt aware. Watching. Judging. Dax struck the flint, and the torch flared to life, its glow flickering wildly against the damp stone. Shadows leapt and twisted as he moved forward, steady as ever, Jace’s weight balanced against him with unyielding control.

Faint slivers of light filtered through the cracks above, thin and spectral, casting eerie patterns along the jagged walls. But it wasn’t enough to banish the darkness. It only made it feel deeper. Dax walked beside her, steady as ever, the flicker of a torch trembling in one hand while his other held Jace with unyielding control. He moved like he knew the way, like the weight of the mountain didn’t press on his chest.

“Well?” she snapped. "Are you strutting through these gods forsaken halls just to feed your own ego, or do you actually know where we’re going?” She scoffed, adjusting her grip on Jace. “I would’ve known, if you hadn’t stolen the damn fragment.” She hoped her words would annoy him enough to answer. Hell, he could insult her if he wanted, she didn’t care. She just needed to talk. Needed to hear something other than the deafening pound of her own heartbeat.

Her legs trembled. Fear curled at the edges of her thoughts, though she’d never admit it. The dark, the stillness, it reminded her too much of the prisons of Illdomir. Dax didn’t look her way. He kept staring ahead. He didn’t smirk, didn’t mock her, didn’t give one of his eternal, flirtatious answers. He simply said, “The chamber that leads to the skies.” His voice was low. “We find the way out. The path that leads up. To where the winds of the world collide. That’s what was written on the fragment.”

They kept walking.

The path ahead was unnervingly straight. The walls on either side were impossibly smooth, as if divine hands had carved the mountain with unnatural precision. It put Irene on edge. Everything was too easy, too deliberate, like the mountain itself was guiding them somewhere. “You sure you know what you’re doing?” she muttered, more to fill the silence than out of curiosity.

Dax didn’t answer. He only quickened his pace.

Irene clenched her fists, swallowing a curse. The passage suddenly tightened around them, closing in like the ribs of some great, living beast. They had to crouch to squeeze through a jagged break in the rock. Cold stone scraped against Irene’s shoulders as she slipped through, and behind her, Jace let out a faint groan, his breath unsteady. Above them, a rupture in the ceiling cast fractured light. Not sunlight. It had the weight of something older, dripping down like molten gold through cracks in the stone. The walls pulsed with an eerie blue glow, like veins of a creature still clinging to life. Irene stood motionless, her breath caught in her throat. It was beautiful. And it terrified her. “Let’s rest,” Dax said.

She nodded. Together, they lowered Jace to the ground. Irene slumped against the cavern wall, the cold rock pressing into her fevered skin. A shiver crawled down her spine, but she wasn’t sure if it was from exhaustion or something else entirely. Dax didn’t stay still. After a moment, he strode away, venturing deeper into the cavern before returning. “There’s a spring,” he said simply.

Before she could react, he crouched beside Jace—too fast. It felt like he was taking him from her. Instinct took over. Her hand shot down, yanking her knife free and pressing it to Dax’s throat. Her grip trembled, but the blade didn’t.

“Touch him, and I’ll kill you,” she hissed.

Dax didn’t flinch. His gaze locked onto hers

"Save your threats for later." Irene hesitated, then lowered the blade.

Together, they lifted Jace and carried him toward the spring.

The water was an impossible shade of blue—vibrant, still, as if frozen in time. Untouched. Undisturbed for centuries.

Irene exhaled sharply and dropped to her knees. Her hands plunged into the icy water, a shock bolting through her nerves. She scooped a handful to Jace’s lips, watching as it trickled past his mouth, dampening his collar.

When she looked up, Dax was already crouched beside her, steadying Jace for her. She hated that she felt a flicker of gratitude. Irene submerged her hands again, this time for herself. She splashed water over her neck, her temples, her chest, trying to smother the fever licking at her skin.

When she turned, she caught Dax staring.

His eyes burned. Something twisted in her stomach.

She looked away. “Let’s move,” she said.

Dax nodded, his expression unreadable, before sliding an arm under Jace’s shoulders. As they lifted him, the air shifted, a strange vibration, like the mountain itself was holding its breath. Irene cast one last glance at the spring. The crystalline water was perfectly still, but in her mind, it felt like it was watching.

They staggered forward, Jace’s weight pressing down, and a shiver ran down Irene’s spine. Not from the cold. This was something else. A creeping, insidious sensation, like unseen eyes burrowed into her skin.

She forced herself to focus. One step. Then another. Ignore the exhaustion. Ignore the pain. But then, she heard a sound. Soft. Wrong. A murmur? No. A gurgle.

Her boots were wet. “No,” she whispered.

Another step—her foot sank. The ground beneath them was damp.

“What the hell is this?” she breathed, her voice breaking.

Dax stopped. He knew something was wrong. Before he could answer, a deep, rumbling growl rolled through the cavern, not from an animal, but the mountain itself. The water. The still, serene pool behind them exploded.

A violent torrent tore through the silence, ripping across the ground like a living thing. It was no longer a mirror, but a predator. Awake. Enraged.

Water rushed forward like a clawed hand, swallowing the ground in seconds. Icy. Biting. Dragging. Irene staggered, the pull nearly taking her down.

“Keep moving,” Dax growled, forcing his way through. “Don’t panic.”

But Irene saw the lie in his eyes. They fought forward, each step a battle against the current and the weight of Jace, his unconscious body now nothing more than a sinking stone. The water wasn’t just rising, it was hunting them.

A wave slammed into the cavern walls with a force that shook the stone. Irene’s breath hitched. The mountain was trying to erase them. As if this was all a game, a cruel arena designed to break them apart.

They were going to die here. Drown.

“Irene, look at me!” Dax’s voice cut through the chaos, and before she could react, his hand caught her chin, jerking her toward him. A commanding grip. A visceral shock yanked her back from the edge of panic.

His eyes burned into hers. “Breathe,” he ordered. “We run, okay? Now.”

She nodded, trembling too much to speak. Dax inhaled sharply. “Now!”

They ran. The world blurred. Every step was a fight, every muscle screaming. The water clutched at them like unseen hands, dragging, choking. Irene slipped, but didn’t stop.

Then she saw it. A fissure in the rock, narrow, almost invisible, their only chance.

“Give him to me!” Dax shouted, already crouched, forcing his broad shoulders through the jagged gap.

Irene hesitated. The water was too close. She felt its breath at her back, cold and waiting.

“Move, Irene!” She shoved Jace forward with every last ounce of strength, her arms burning, hands slipping on his damp clothes. Dax caught him, dragging him through. “Now you!”

Irene dropped, her knees hitting stone. The water roared. Her hands scraped against the rock, slipping, bleeding. A final wave crashed forward. She scrambled through just as the flood slammed into the opening.

Dax grabbed her wrists, hauling her to safety. “The rock!”

They turned, eyes locking onto a massive boulder. Their only chance at survival.

It was impossibly heavy. But they pushed, their boots skidding, hands slipping. Every muscle screamed.

The roar of the water was deafening. The boulder finally shifted.

With a final, brutal shove, the boulder crashed into place. Water slammed against the other side, pounding, raging. But it couldn’t break through. The sound faded. Then silence.

Irene and Dax collapsed against the stone, drenched and shaking, lungs burning. Irene tipped her head back. “What is this cursed mountain?” she murmured.

Dax wiped his forehead, silent.

The feeling clawed at her, sharp and unshakable. She couldn’t name it. But she knew.

This mountain wasn’t just a place. It was an arena. A monster. A watching thing, judging their every step. And deep in her gut, a sickening truth took root. It wouldn’t let them leave alive without a final trial.