Page 52

CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE

IRENE

I rene’s breath came hard and fast, her back pressed against the jagged stone of the cavern. Eyes squeezed shut, heart hammering.

When she opened them, she saw Dax, his hand braced against the wall, the other clutching his ribs, his breath ragged with pain. Between them, Jace sat slumped against the rock, still unconscious.

Irene exhaled, steadying herself—then she turned.

Her breath caught.

She pushed off the wall, stepping forward as if pulled by an invisible thread.

This place was different from the rest of the mountain. Not a maze of jagged rocks or endless tunnels, it was a ruin, a throne room long abandoned. Tall pillars lined the space, some reduced to rubble, others still standing, fragile and cracked. The stone walls thrummed with an eerie violet glow that pulsed like a dying heartbeat. And scattered through the chamber were dark mirrors of stone, warped reflections twisting within them. A place that had once been beautiful—now shattered, left to rot.

But none of it compared to the painting.

Irene's head tilted back, her throat exposed as she took it in, her lips parting in silent awe.

"It’s her…” she whispered.

Dax turned at the sound of her voice. His gaze lifted.

Nehalennia.

The goddess loomed above them, painted in all her splendor. The hues had faded with time, but her presence remained, untouched. She hovered above a sea of vivid blues, streaked with pink glows that shimmered and pulsed, shifting with every step Irene took. Her long braids, deep purple, curled like smoke, moving as if caught in an unseen current. Her eyes were sorrowful, yet unyielding, as if she was judging them.

Her arms stretched wide. In one hand, a human heart. In the other, a dagger.

Irene barely noticed herself moving, drawn forward. She stopped beneath the dagger, staring up, entranced. Across from her, Dax stood beneath the heart, his eyes unblinking.

A groan broke the silence. Jace stirred. Irene turned sharply and knelt beside him just as Dax’s voice rasped behind her.

"We should rest… a moment." Dax sank to the floor beside them, resting his head against the wall, eyes shut. Irene placed a hand on Jace’s forehead and immediately pulled back. His skin was fever-hot, burning beneath her touch.

A curse slipped from her lips. He should have woken by now. Something was wrong.

Dax said nothing, and that silence unsettled her more than his usual taunts. It clung to him like a weight he couldn’t name. Irene tore a strip from Jace’s shirt, dabbing at the fever sweat gathering on his brow.

The silence around wasn’t empty. It breathed.

A soundless hum vibrated through the stone, threading through the cavern like a pulse. Irene felt it in her teeth, in her bones—a deep, rhythmic thrum that matched the beat of her own fear.

Then, the silence broke.

A creak. Low. Metallic.

The ground trembled. Rocks shifted.

Dax’s eyes snapped open just as Irene twisted around, scanning the cavern, her breath caught in her throat. Something had changed.

The space around them was no longer the same.

Where there had once been solid ground, there was now—nothing.

A massive hole gaped in the center of the cavern, a void where there had been only rock moments before. Irene stepped forward, staring down into the abyss. The darkness was alive. It wasn’t just empty, it devoured light, swallowing the torch glow whole.

And below were ruins. The cavern had split open like a cracked ribcage, revealing a deeper level of the mountain. Far beneath their feet, jagged slabs of broken stone jutted out at different angles, remnants of collapsed floors.

“That… wasn’t there before,” Dax muttered. His voice was rough, wary.

He stood beside her now, his jaw tight, his eyes locked on the impossible before them.

The mountain had shifted. A cold shiver crawled up Irene’s spine, like ghostly fingers skimming her skin. She stumbled back from the edge, her breath caught in her throat. The abyss pulled at her, whispering promises she couldn’t quite hear, but still felt.

She stepped closer to Jace, as if shielding him from the void, her fingers still pressing against his fevered forehead. Dax’s voice cut through the silence. "I'll take him. The prince is mine."

Irene froze. Her hand holding the damp cloth went still against Jace’s burning forehead. "His blood belongs to me. You never stood a chance, Irene..." he added, the words slithering into her ears.

She turned to face him, dangerously slow, her eyes wild. “What did you just say?” she whispered.

Dax sighed like she was exhausting him already. He turned, arms crossed, a flicker of irritation in his storm-gray eyes. "What the hell are you talking about? I didn't say anything."

Irene stared at him, searching his face. Nothing.

It was probably the voices in her head, shaming her again.

“Liar.” Irene spat. She swallowed hard and turned back to Jace, shaking her head, chasing away the whispers clinging to her mind. It had to be the voices. It had to be them.

Suddenly, a hand clamped onto her arm—hard. She barely had time to react before Dax yanked her backward.

Her heartbeat quickened as she twisted in his grip. He was hurting her.

“Dax—?”

His face warped before her eyes. Twisted. Monstrous.

His normally sharp storm-gray eyes darkened, irises flickering with an eerie metallic blue sheen. Veins pulsed beneath his skin—blackened, writhing like snakes.

He looked at her with pure hatred.

"How dare you betray the Vipers?! Working for Jessalyn… really?"

He was shaking her, shouting. "You know it's because of her that my mother died!"

His grip tightened, crushing her arm.

"Dax, stop!" she cried out, trying to pry his fingers off her.

And then—he let go. Just like that.

He staggered back, running a shaking hand through his hair before turning his back on her. Irene panted. She heard it again.

"You know why I sent you to Ildomir..."

Dax’s voice. "Because you are weak."

Irene’s pulse stopped. Her vision blurred with rage. Her hands curled into fists, trembling, nails biting into her palms.

Then Dax turned, his face shifting again. "Traitor." His lips curled, his gaze dropping to her mouth—like he could hear words spilling from it that she hadn’t spoken. "You're right." His voice dropped to a growl.

"You left me for dead. Fed me to the Serpent. I’ll make you regret it." Irene barely had time to react. He lunged. Her fingers fumbled for her knife, adrenaline making them shake. Dax slammed her skull against the stone wall, the breath ripped from her lungs. Pain exploded through her, but rage burned hotter. Irene drew her knife, its blade trembling in her grip. “Let go of me, or I swear I’ll kill you!” she screamed, her voice raw with fury and terror. Dax released her. Irene hit the ground hard. Her spine slammed against the cold stone, but she rolled, pressing up onto her knees, ignoring the throb in her ribs. Her eyes snapped to Dax as he stumbled back, breath ragged, his hand clutched to his ribs.

The shimmering blue in his eyes gleamed, cutting through the shadows. He wasn’t looking at her anymore. Irene followed his stare. His gaze was locked on Jace.

He was going to take Jace. Irene shot to her feet, stepping between Dax and the unconscious prince. He straightened, shaking his head. “Move.”

Irene’s breath was quick, shallow. Pain burned through her ribs, but she squared her shoulders.

“You’ll have to kill me first.” She breathed. “He’s mine.”

They locked eyes. And then, everything stopped. A sound drifted through the air. Low. Haunting. Ancient.

Irene’s breath hitched. The melody curled around them, seeping into the cavern’s walls like an invocation, like something long-buried had begun to wake. It wasn’t a song. It was a summons.

The sound slithered up from the chasm, rising through the air, brushing against her skin like icy fingers. Strings wept—high, wailing notes twisting through the silence. Beneath it, a deep, slow rhythm—drums. The hollow thud of a heartbeat, deep and distant.

Torchlight flickered. One by one, the flames flared to life.

Boom. Boom. Boom.

A pulse. Irene saw it then—saw herself in Dax’s eyes. He saw himself in hers.

And the song rose.

The drums quickened. The violins wept louder. A heartbeat speeding up. It was tragic. Desperate. A song of something ancient and doomed.

Dax exhaled slowly.

Irene tilted her head.

He reached for his pistol.

Her grip tightened on her knife.

One last look.

They both understood. They were the final trial.

Then, a voice curled into Irene’s ear. Sweet. Poisonous.

Not like the voices that haunted her mind. Those mocked, taunted, and tore her down. But this one… this one sang.

“He’s going to take Jace from you."

“He will steal everything. You know what you have to do. Kill him. Kill him, and I will give you the sapphire.”

The drums pounded like war.

The pistol clicked. Irene saw the flash of fire. The bullet screamed toward her, too fast.

But she didn’t think.

Something feral inside her snapped. A beast took over.

Her head jerked to the side in an instant.

The bullet whistled past her cheek. She felt it slice the air, hot and sharp, grazing her hair.

Behind her, a rock exploded into shards.

Irene didn’t wait.

She ran, jumping onto Dax, knife flashing.

The blade plunged deep into his arm.

Dax roared in pain, ripping the knife free.

His fist slammed into her face.

Crack. Her head snapped sideways. Irene’s eyes widened as blood spilled from her lips, slow and fluid, like time itself had fractured.

Then they crashed to the ground again.

Irene's chest convulsed with each ragged breath, her vision spinning as the pain settled deep. Across from her, Dax staggered back, one hand clutching his head, his breath uneven. His entire body shook with something primal. His fingers dug into his skull.

"Stop," he growled, but his voice cracked. "Shut up!"

He turned to the chasm. That gaping void in the heart of the mountain. And he screamed.

His roar echoed, bouncing off the cavern walls, swallowed whole by the abyss.

The melody rose in answer.

Irene sat up, leaning on her hands, her ribs screaming in protest. She stared at him.

Dax was frantic, his muscles coiled like a storm about to break. His shimmering blue gaze flicked to hers, but—it was gone. The eerie glow had vanished.

His voice was wild. "It's her," he said. "It's her!"

He spoke like he had just woken up from a nightmare. His hands were still gripping his head, his body shaking like he was fighting something unseen. "Jessalyn—it's her. She's the one doing this to us. She’s controlling the mountain—she’s in our heads."

The melody pulsed, growing louder, a haunting symphony of strings and wailing voices. The mountain didn’t want her to listen.

Irene’s breath hitched. "What?" she whispered.

Dax took a step toward her, desperate. "Listen to me?—"

But suddenly, she couldn’t hear him.

The song overtook everything, swelling like a living thing. The voice slithered into her skull again.

"He wants to kill you. He will take Jace from you. Push him. Push him, and I will give you the Sapphire. Kill him."

She barely grasped his words before his voice cut back in, desperate.

Something inside Irene snapped.

"Stop lying to me!" she screamed.

His eyes flashed blue again. The shimmer returned, flickering like lightning. The shift was so sudden it felt like the man before her had been swallowed whole and spat back out as something else.

Dax turned, his gaze locking onto Jace. His entire body tensed. His fingers curled into fists. "It’s all because of him."

Irene clenched his hair in a fist and dragged him back.

Dax spun, his fist slammed into her stomach. Pain exploded through her, she lurched forward, gasping, choking on air. She struck back. Her fist cracked against his jaw. Dax growled, his hand catching her wrist, twisting it back, but Irene slammed her knee into his ribs.

Dax’s boot slammed into her leg. A brutal, bone-snapping kick.

Something cracked. Irene screamed. White-hot pain burned through her.

She collapsed to one knee, her body wracked with pain. Dax staggered back, breathing ragged, blood streaking down his face, dripping from his lips.

The melody had reached its peak, drums pounding like a heartbeat.

Dax ran for Jace.

Irene ran for Dax.

They collided, fighting. Dax blocked, ducked, swung—a blade flashed. Irene twisted, the dagger aiming straight for his heart. Dax caught her wrist mid-strike.

"You want my heart?" Dax shouted, his voice breaking.

Irene’s breath came in ragged gasps, her lips so close to his that she felt the heat of his words before they even left his mouth.

"I want your heart," she whispered. "Not for love’s fleeting warmth. But to feel it pulse in my hand. To claim each of its final beats as mine."

She twisted her grip. And they fought. Bloodied. Breathless. Tears streaking through the grime and the rage. They were fighting beneath Nehalannia's painting.

The goddess loomed over them, watching.

"I need to tell you something," he said, his voice hoarse. "Irene, please?—"

She blinked. The world splintered. Dax multiplied. Too many of him. He was multiplying in her vision. Her own mind was turning against her. "Stop," she gasped. "Stop!"

She hit him. His body reeled back, but he kept crawling forward. His voice was weak, desperate. "Jessalyn lied to you. She’s controlling the mountain. She’s in your head. I never?—"

Irene struck him before he could finish. They were running. Racing toward each other.

Irene jumped. Dax jumped.

The world stopped. The melody swelled into a choral wail, a chorus of too many voices, ancient, endless. A legion of whispers, all weaving together into one final judgment.

Her arm was raised high, knife flashing. Her face twisted in raw, feral scream, teeth bared like an animal.

His fist was drawn back, veins pulsing, rage carved into his features.

A heartbeat stretched into eternity. Nehalannia watched. Unmoving. Unforgiving.

Her outstretched arms divided them.

Irene, beneath the dagger. Dax, beneath the heart. Frozen in the air, Irene saw that eerie blue shimmer in Dax’s eyes begin to leak from his gaze.

Like liquid light, it spilled from his irises, floating upward, slipping away as if torn from his soul. And then—she saw herself in his eyes. Saw the way her own gaze burned, a deep, luminous, vengeful pink. It bled from her irises, slipping into the air, curling into thin, twisting tendrils, just like his.

Blue and pink. Like each other's souls. Their colors poured into the space between them, twisting, writhing, fighting—a battle of their own. The shimmer clashed.

Irene and Dax. Two forces never meant to coexist. Forever colliding. Forever doomed.

Nehalannia’s gaze bore down upon them. The goddess had seen this a thousand times before.

Lovers. Enemies. Fools.

The shimmer stretched between them, pulling, unraveling, slipping away?—

Their souls. Their humanity.

Nehalennia judged them.

And then?—

Time snapped back.

Irene’s dagger plunged into Dax’s shoulder.

Dax’s fist crushed into Irene’s face.

They hit the ground. The melody stopped. Everything went silent. "Enough!"

He stumbled to his feet, clutching Irene by the shoulders, his grip tight, desperate, shaking her. “The mountain is playing tricks on us!” he rasped.

"But this is real," the whispers coiled through Irene’s mind, insidious and honeyed. "You know it is. You feel it.”

“Trust me.” Dax's voice was raw, edged with panic. He spoke low, urgent, like he feared someone—or something—might overhear. “You have to believe me, Irene. It’s Jessalyn. She’s manipulating us. She’s dangerous.”

The voice in Irene’s head turned to venom.

He’s lying.

Push him.

It’s the only way.

Her brow furrowed. Fear flickered in her wide, searching eyes. She tried to pull back, but his grip tightened.

“When will you stop lying to me?” she snapped.

“Irene, Jessalyn betrayed you,” Dax choked out, his voice breaking.

Irene shook her head violently, refusing to let his words sink in. If she let herself believe him—if she let herself see it—then everything she had done, everything she had become, had been for nothing.

“Why do you think I brought you here?” Dax pushed, his words tumbling out, frantic and splintered. “Irene, let’s stop this. I know you only wanted the rush—the adrenaline, the thrill of being hunted. To see how far we could go. To see who would break first. But I’m tired. Come back to me.”

Her fear snapped into fury. Without thinking, Irene slapped him across the face. “Shut up!” she screamed.

Her hand trembled. Not from regret. But from the terrible, gnawing realization crawling into her mind—what if he was telling the truth?

“Liar! Traitor!” The words tore from her throat “I saw you abandon me! I saw you leave the ship without a second thought!”

Dax took her words like blows, but he didn’t crumble. His chest rose and fell in ragged breaths, his voice rising to meet hers.

“I never betrayed you!” he roared, his voice trembling with rage and something far worse—anguish. “It was all a goddamned performance, and you knew it! Did you really think my father—that bastard—would ever choose you to captain his ship? He hated you as much as he hated me, but I was his blood, his flesh! He was going to kill you, Irene! I heard him! Everything I did was to protect you, to send you far away from him! It wasn’t real! I protected you the only way I knew how! You only had to wait… but you came back and ruined everything!”

Tears streaked his face, but Irene didn’t care. She shook her head so hard it hurt, her own tears falling, hot and angry.

“No, it was real for me!” she sobbed, her voice breaking under the weight of her grief. “They beat me, Dax. They locked me in the dark. They broke me. That was real.”

Dax froze. His breath hitched—caught like a blade in his throat. For a moment, he simply stared at her, his mind struggling to comprehend, to reconcile the unbearable truth with what he thought he knew.

His hand rose, almost frantically, rubbing at his face as if trying to wipe away something that couldn’t be erased. His chest caved in, breathless, drowning.

“Where were you?” he asked finally, his voice so low it was barely a whisper. But it was sharp, cutting through the thick, suffocating air like a knife. “All that time—where the hell were you?”

Irene let out a brittle, trembling laugh—one that held no mirth, only a hollow, splintering bitterness. She met his gaze, her expression carved from stone.

“In my kingdom of salt.” Her voice was ice. “Ildomir Prisons”

Dax stumbled back, like the words had physically struck him. His face drained of color.

“Impossible.” The word fell from his lips, barely audible. Then, again, more frantic this time. “Impossible. Impossible.” His head shook violently, his hands clutching at his temples. “I sent you to the Jade Cities. The mercenaries who took you were paid! It was all a cover, a way to keep the other Vipers from dragging you back to my father! I wrote to you! I wrote you dozens of letters! And you never answered a single one! I thought you knew—” his voice cracked, raw and unraveling, “I thought you knew about the letters!”

Irene’s eyes widened, her entire body trembling as she took a step forward. Her breath hitched.

“What letters?” she screamed.

Dax paced in frantic circles, his breath ragged, his hands tearing through his hair. He was unraveling before her. His rage bled into his tears.

“No… no… no,” he choked. “I never— I never sent you there.”

Irene let out a broken sob, her whole body shaking. And then— she laughed. A terrible, hollow sound, cracking through the cavern like something splintering inside her. Hysterical. Manic. Her shoulders heaved, laughter spilling from her lips like poison, like a curse.

Because if he was telling the truth— if this was the truth —then what had all that suffering been for?

Dax refused to believe it. His breathing hitched, his chest caving as the weight of it crushed him.

“Impossible…” His voice wavered, desperate. “I just— I just wanted to do good.”

Irene’s laughter died in her throat. Slow. Cruel.

“Good?” she whispered, her voice shattered.

Dax finally looked at her.

Her eyes burned—with grief, with rage, with the kind of devastation that felt like drowning in fire.

“Your good was my worst.”

And like that, Dax learned the lesson that would haunt him forever: in our desperate struggle to remain good, we often commit the most unforgivable acts—slowly becoming the very monsters we feared.

His father had threatened to kill Irene. Dax had done worse. And he hadn’t even realized.

The lack of words between them had left space for the devil to slip between them and tear them apart.

The truth crashed down on them, crushing the air from their lungs.

Dax turned to her, trembling. His lips parted, a realization chilling him to the bone.

“It was her,” he rasped, his voice a death knell. His whole frame shook as he wiped his face, but his expression crumbled.

His next words sent a shiver of dread down Irene’s spine.

“It was Jessalyn. All along.”

Silence.

Then—

“Shut up!”

Irene screamed, clutching her head, nails digging into her scalp as if she could rip his words from her mind before they could take root.

“Think, Irene!” Dax’s voice was raw, shaking her hard, his fingers digging into her arms. “Think back! Was there any sign?! What did you see in the prison?! What symbol did the jailers wear?!”

Her time in the salt prisons had been a fever dream. A slow unraveling. She had lost her mind there. And when her mind was gone, her soul followed. She had become an animal.

And when she escaped, her body and mind conspired to forget. But Dax’s voice cracked something open. And the memories came back. They clawed their way through the fragile walls she had built, tearing through her mind with cruel hands.

She remembered the guards dragging her through the suffocating darkness of the mountain’s entrance. The smell of damp stone. The cold iron of their hands on her arms. The sound of her own screams.

She had lifted her head one last time, just before the shadows swallowed her whole.

The sun had been setting. Its last rays bled over the jagged peaks.

And there, perched on a jagged shard of stone, it had appeared. A bird, with white feathers. Still as death.

Its eyes had locked onto hers, cold, unblinking.

As if it already knew what awaited her below.

As if it had been waiting for her.

At the time, Irene hadn’t known what kind of bird it was. She hadn’t understood. She hadn’t seen.

But now, she does.

She had seen that white peacock everywhere since she left Ildomir.

But she had never paid attention. Because her mind had shielded her.

Because the truth would have destroyed her.

She had seen it in that painting at the guild.

She had seen its symbol, etched into the walls like a silent omen.

She had seen it woven into the very fabric Jessalyn wore.

It wasn’t her eyes that had been blind. It was her heart.

A sharp shake pulled her back to the present. Dax’s hands tightened on her shoulders.

“What did you see?” His voice was rough. Frantic. Urgent.

Despite herself, Irene whispered, “A white peacock…”

Dax went still. Then his fingers dug into her arms. His breath came fast, ragged. He pulled her closer, as if the truth alone could save them.

His back was now to the abyss.

“The heavens be damned,” he breathed, his voice shaking. “Irene… She's controlling us. Jessalyn is trying to finish the cycle. She wants revenge on the king?—”

His voice cracked. He swallowed hard, looking at her—not with anger, but with something worse. Defeat.

“I need the sapphire, Irene,” he said, broken, begging. “I have to bring it back to him.”

Irene’s fingers curled into fists. Her pulse pounded against her ribs. “I need it too.” She had to bring it back to Jessalyn.

But Irene couldn’t hear the rest of Dax's words.

The voice had returned. This time, it wasn’t a whisper. It was a command.

Push him. And you’ll win. The sapphire will be yours. NOW!

She clenched her teeth, blinking hard, trying to shove the voice back into the shadows where it belonged. But when her gaze lifted to Dax’s, she saw it.

He knew. And it was too late.

Nothing they said now would matter. No plea, no truth, no revelation could undo what had already been done.

Dax’s brow furrowed, and his lips twisted into something between a smile and a grimace. Sad. Nostalgic.

Then, slowly, he leaned in.

His forehead pressed hard against hers, a fleeting ghost of warmth. His breath fanned over her trembling lips, steady, almost… resigned.

Irene felt something inside her fracture. Shards of pain and memory drove deep, but she didn’t flinch. She couldn’t.

"So that’s it," he murmured, voice raw. "We’re enemies now?"

His words cracked something so deep inside her, it would never be whole again.

Through a strangled sob, Irene whispered what Jessalyn had once told her—words that, now, felt like fate itself.

"I have no enemies."

And then she pushed him.

Dax staggered. His boots scraped against the loose stone at the cliff’s edge.

For a moment, the world held its breath.

His wide, unblinking eyes found hers one last time.

And he fell.

The murmurs stopped.

The mountain swallowed the sound of his body vanishing into the abyss.

And the silence was absolute.