Page 25 of Son of the Drowned Empire

Chapter Twenty-Four

T ime passed. When I arrived in the cave the first night, the moon was gone, the sky pure black, save the stars. Each night afterward, I peered out and watched the moon grow, become fuller and fuller until it reached its peak. Then, I watched it wane back to nothing. I marked a line on the cave wall when one month had come and gone.

Another month went by. Some forsworn came by the cave. Three men from Sindhuvine. Two soturi. One mage. I was too weak to fight them off. I made it out with only the weapons on my back. I also snagged a loaf of bread they’d stolen from the village. The gryphon flew me to the next location. It’s another cave.

The moon waxed. The moon waned. I lived to see another month. I had three sightings of my father’s soturi. They didn’t see me. I’ve stopped sleeping. Too many nightmares. I’ve barely eaten—only enough to stay alive. I’ve wanted nothing. But I’ve continued to exist because I’d promised I would. Because I was too cowardly to do otherwise.

I’ve stopped looking at the moon.

One day I saw an Afeyan in the village. I was sure she’d come from the Star Court; her skin was purple, and small golden stars glittered across her flesh, exposed despite the chill in the air. I watched in the shadows as she moved about the village, searching for prey. I wasn’t the only forsworn hiding out there. The cave systems on the Aravian borders of Cretanya and Damara meant quite a few of us had come seeking shelter. Only the strongest held their spaces and kept their supplies. I’d kept mine and slowly gathered more. I’d made a nest that allowed me to fall asleep after I’d spent hours training.

When the Afeyan approached me, she knew right away who I was. She asked if I wished to be reinstated. I didn’t respond. She then asked if I wished for my binds to be removed. I said I’d pay a mage the normal fee when I came upon some money. Then, she asked if I wanted to know who I was. I said I knew. She tilted her head, looking at me as if I hadn’t heard her question. At my refusal to make any sort of deal with her or fall prey to asking a question, she held out her hand for the gryphon. The traitor went right to her.

“You know he doesn’t belong out here, he’s too wild. He deserves to be in his home, in the Night Lands.”

“I know,” I said. I blinked back tears, surprised I had any left to cry. I’d known deep down this day had been coming. Gryphons couldn’t be pets, and the Afeya belong in the Afeyan lands.

“Take me home,” she told the red gryphon.

He’d walked over to me one last time, the small limp from his first injury as a baby still evident. He pushed his head into my palm, purring.

I’d wanted him to stay. But he’d already saved my life twice, and I’d only saved his once. It was time… I owed him his freedom, a chance to return home.

Well, I did tell Artem I’d set him free. At least I kept my word on that.

All I had left was the piece of rope he’d torn from our escape, and one feather I’d found. Red. The color used to make me feel something. Reminded me of something. Of someone. But that had been so long ago. It was so hard to remember what it was like to feel. I wasn’t sure I was surviving. My body was exercised, cleaned, fed, and rested each day, but I had once been more than this body. I had once felt…thought…desired…

Even as I cared for myself, I felt nothing, wanted nothing.

I was numb.

Akadim were sighted close. Too close. It drew the local soturi to my hiding spot. I was forced to leave. I found a new cave. The snow had melted. Winter was nearly over. I knew I needed to head south where it was safer, but there was another reason I needed to go there. I just wished I remembered why…

I would have done anything to stop my dreams. Does that count as wanting? I moved again.

My birthday. End of winter. I turned twenty-two. I didn’t celebrate. Someone had once told me they’d stopped celebrating their birthday. I forgot who…. It felt like it was a dream. Now, I was the same.

It was spring. I’d gone even farther south. A new cave. It didn’t matter much. I was where I was. Akadim should have been less. They didn’t like this season, the warmth, the lengthening daylight. They didn’t like the south. But I’d seen just as many here as I ever had up north.

I awoke to a sinister growl in the middle of the night. Immediately on alert, I sat up, seeing the fire had nearly smoked out. My heart raced, but my dagger was under the pile of blankets I’d used as a pillow. My sword was my only bed companion.

I stood, pulling my cloak above my head, and made my way to the wall. There, I crept along, not sure if I was being hunted or had become the hunter. At the very least, with the wall behind me, I knew whatever had growled couldn’t attack me from behind. During all these months living in exile, I’d come upon more akadim than I’d have liked, but I still hadn’t made a kill. I’d come close, I’d injured, I’d maimed. But akadim were simple. They wanted easy prey. The moment they saw I’d put up a fight, they retreated.

Another growl sounded, this one from a few feet away. I shifted, my fingers tightening around my sword. There were footsteps. Two sets of them.

“Smell him,” one growled. Male.

“Close,” came the animalistic response.

Fuck. I bit the inner corner of my cheek to still my breathing. I’d sunk my body into the cave’s pool that morning, but I’d heard people talking and raced to my clothes quicker than usual. I was hoping I didn’t smell strong enough that I couldn’t sneak up on them.

I neared the corner of the rocky wall and made the split decision of showing myself. I’d go on the offense; I wouldn’t wait for them to come to me. I wouldn’t allow myself to show weakness to these beasts.

Counting down in my head, my heart thundering, I made my move, my sword piercing the belly of the akadim before me. He roared, his putrid breath smelling of decay, as he pulled the sword from his flesh, his red eyes staring me down.

I kept my hands tight on the hilt, refusing to let go, to let this monster intimidate me. He wasn’t human, he had no soul.

Then, the second akadim came up behind him.

I couldn’t make out his face in the dim light, but something in his red eyes felt familiar. There was a tug on my stomach, some old memory of my power, of my vorakh, long bound and asleep now for months.

I gritted my teeth, prepared to slash again when suddenly my back burst into flames. The scar… the old scar… the blood oath from Garrett was burning and piercing me. I could feel his blade again as if I’d gone back to that night outside Seathorne, the air warm, the akadim attacking.

With a yell, I struck, fighting past the pain. My blade collided with the akadim’s arm. A hit, but not enough. He stepped closer, his clawed hands reaching for me. The akadim behind him stepped closer as well. That sensation of familiarity washed through me, and again, my back flared with pain from an oath that was dormant, an oath I’d fulfilled.

Then, I saw the second akadim’s hair. Blonde and wavy.

My breath caught, my body freezing.

The akadim roared, his face turning gruesome and foreign.

This wasn’t Garrett. I’d killed Garrett. This was just a nightmare, a nightmare mixing with my waking life.

I pulled my gaze back to the first akadim, both hands on my sword now. I needed to aim for his belly, hit him in the same spot, and deepen the wound. But before I could make my move, there was a shout. The blonde akadim vanished into the shadows, leaving me alone with the first.

The distraction had been fast but deadly.

The akadim’s claws reached for my waist. His nails pierced my armor, and my feet lifted off the ground.

“No!” I shouted. Then, I was on the floor. The claws were no longer cutting into me.

I scrambled to my feet, reaching for the sword I’d dropped in surprise. Its clang echoed against the cavernous walls, but I didn’t need it.

The akadim’s head rolled off his neck, landing with a gruesome wet plunk on the floor. A second later, his body fell forward on top of it as blood splashed across my already grimy boots.

“Are you al–?” The soturion standing behind the corpse froze, his blade clanging against the floor. Brown curls with just a hint of gray at the temples sat atop his head. His forest green eyes widened, filling with tears as he looked me up and down.

He uttered a sound somewhere between a strangled cry and a gasp. “Rhyan?” His gaze deepened, taking in my current appearance: hair too long after months without cutting it, the scar that sliced through my face. He stepped forward, his mouth open, light stubble reaching for his neck. “Gods! Rhyan!”

I fell to my knees. My mouth opened and closed in shock.

“Rhyan,” he cried out.

Uncle Sean had killed the beast.

Uncle Sean was here.