Page 30

Chapter

Twenty-Nine

Araya’s eyes fluttered open, her head pounding in rhythm with the slow, sickening sway of the world around her. She struggled to sit up, instantly regretting it as the world tilted sideways beneath her, moving like she was on a?—

A boat.

Araya’s stomach lurched, panic cutting through the lingering fog in her mind. They’d drugged her and put her on a boat .

“Whoa—” Thorne jumped up from the chair beside the cot, reaching out like he was going to steady her.

Araya jerked away from his hand. “Don’t touch me,” she snapped.

She threw off the thin blanket, staggering to her feet. Her head spun, but aether sparked in her blood—still faint and weak, but there. She wasn’t defenseless anymore.

“You should sit,” the male said cautiously, watching her like she might bolt. “You’re probably dizzy?—”

“Because you drugged me,” Araya snapped. Her voice rose, taking on a hysterical edge. “You drugged me and put me on a godsdamned boat!” Her hands curled into fists. “Take. Me. Back. ”

“I’m sorry, but that can’t happen,” Thorne said, lifting his hands slowly, like she was a cornered animal. “There’s a lot going on here you don’t understand, and this isn’t the place to explain.”

Gods , if one more person told her this wasn’t the place to explain ?—

“I don’t want an explanation,” Araya hissed. “I want to go to shore.” She stepped around him, but he moved faster—planting himself between her and the door.

“You have every right to be angry,” Thorne said, still maddeningly calm. “But it’s not safe for you to go out there. Nyra and Loren need to focus on the crossing?—”

The boat lurched, sending them both stumbling. Araya barely caught herself, grabbing onto a tied-down crate as the deck pitched violently under their feet. Thorne wasn’t as lucky, losing his footing completely and slamming into the cabin wall with a sharp grunt.

Araya threw herself into the opening, lunging for the door.

Thorne shouted her name, grabbing for her. But something dark and whispering slithered between them, and his hand closed on nothing but empty air as the door burst open under her hands.

Cold, salt-heavy air slammed into her, stealing the breath from her lungs. She stumbled forward, the icy spray soaking her socks and biting into her skin—but it wasn’t the chill that stopped her cold, leaving her frozen in terror.

It was the shadows. Just feet away, the roiling wall of darkness loomed over them, ravenous tendrils unfurling from it like dark snakes.

Araya hadn’t entirely believed Jaxon when he’d told her the Shadowed Veil destroyed anything that tried to breach it—not entirely. But she should have.

She clapped a hand over her mouth as the Arcanum patrol boat lurched, sending men scrambling across the deck. One of the soldiers fell, the shadows dragging him into the void before he could even scream. Another tried to leap overboard—only to be yanked back like a puppet on a string.

It took minutes .

Araya swayed, nausea churning in her gut. The boat was just…gone. Nothing remained but a few scattered splinters bobbing on the surface, until the shadows dragged even those beneath the waves.

Loren had done this—just like he’d killed Aeron in the tunnels. But this—this was worse. Thorne shouted something behind her, his hand closing around her arm to drag her back into the cabin. But Araya couldn’t fight—she could only stare as Loren turned, green clashing with silver as their gazes met.

“Araya—” Loren took a step forward, his face stricken. But before he could say anything else, the shadows moved.

The hair on the back of Araya’s arms stood on end as Loren’s head snapped around as a dark tendril slid toward the skiff—reaching for them. No—for her .

“Get us out of here!” Loren shouted at Nyra. “They’re coming for us !”

Nyra flung out her hands. The wind howled to life—a violent gale slamming into them, sending the skiff tearing through the water with jarring speed. Araya stumbled and would have fallen if not for Thorne’s grip on her. He dragged her back, his voice barely cutting through the wind.

“Get back to the cabin!”

“No!” The word ripped from her throat, raw and furious.

She shoved him—harder than she meant to. The wind screamed, lashing her hair into her face as she fought her way across the deck, her soaked socks sliding on the slick wood.

“Loren!” Araya screamed. The skiff pitched violently, nearly throwing her to the deck. She grabbed the mast, her palms burning against the slick wood. “Call them off!”

He’d commanded them to sink the patrol boat—he could command them to stop. But Loren’s eyes were wide and wild when they met hers, his chest heaving and his skin deathly pale under the salt spray that coated them both.

“I can’t,” he whispered, the words somehow reaching her over the howling wind .

Araya’s stomach dropped as another tendril slammed into the hull. The boat lurched sideways, flinging her against the mast and sending Loren sliding into her. He wasn’t controlling them. Whatever power had bent them to his will before—it wasn’t working now.

Araya choked on a scream as the darkness climbed above them. It curled higher and higher, blotting out the sky in a wave of pure darkness.

They would all die here unless someone did something. And Loren wasn’t doing anything—he wasn’t even trying .

She lunged forward, grabbing his hands and digging her fingers in like he was the only solid thing left in the world. A jolt of something shot through her—whether it was magic, aether, or something else she had no idea. But whatever it was, the darkness around them shuddered, rippling like it had felt it too.

Loren’s hands twisted in her grip, but Araya didn’t let go. She wasn’t going to die like this.

And then, the wave broke.

The void crashed over them, swallowing the boat whole.

The wave of shadows crashed over the skiff, plunging everything into darkness so complete it stole the world away. The howling wind, the groan of the boat, the crash of the waves—all of it vanished, replaced by a silence so complete it took on a life of its own.

The only thing she could see in the suffocating blackness was Loren. She clung to him, and he gripped her just as tightly, pulling her into the curve of his body as cool shadows traced over her skin. They curled at the edges of her sleeves, winding through her hair and wrapping around her throat—inspecting her.

Loren bared his teeth, snarling something in Valenya. Araya lifted her head, opening her mouth to remind him that she couldn’t understand him? —

But it was the shadows that answered.

A thousand voices whispered at the edges of her hearing—like leaves rustling in the wind or waves crashing against a forgotten shore. They rose, merging into a single, deafening voice that rattled her teeth in her skull. She couldn’t understand the words, but the pain behind it was a familiar friend. Scorn—rage. The burn of a wound that had never healed.

Loren stiffened, his grip tightening as he snapped something back, his voice sharp with an anger that didn’t quite mask the desperation in his response.

Whatever he’d said sent a ripple through the void, every tendril of shadow quivering and whispering among themselves. For a moment, nothing happened, the air thickening as that ancient power studied them both.

And then, the shadows retaliated.

A tendril lashed out, wrapping itself around Loren’s forearm. He flinched, a strangled cry escaping his lips as the darkness sank into his skin like molten metal—branding him.

“Loren!” Araya reached for him—but he just dragged her close, curling his body around hers as the shadows clawed in around them. A raw sob tore from her lips as the darkness screamed, her fingers twisting in his shirt. They were speaking again—demanding something that Loren either couldn’t or wouldn’t give them.

This was a test, and Loren was failing it.

Before she could think better of it, Araya twisted out of Loren’s grip.

"Wait!” She called out, her voice falling strangely flat in the vast darkness that surrounded them. To her shock, the shadows froze, that ancient focus snapping to her.

Araya swallowed hard, forcing herself to take another step forward. “I—I don’t speak Valenya,” she said, her voice shaking under the weight of that ancient regard. “But… I think you can understand me, can’t you?”

The silence stretched for a long moment, thick and suffocating, before a slow ripple shivered through the darkness. The voices swelled, rolling over her like a crashing tide.

We speak all tongues, they hissed.

They were listening. Gods—they were listening.

“Araya—” Loren reached for her, but she shook him off, wiping her sweaty palms on her borrowed tunic. If he wasn’t going to save them, she would.

“What is it you want from him?” she asked, staring into the void.

The void shuddered, and for a moment, the whispers fractured again—echoes splintering into overlapping voices of rage, disappointment, and something far older. Something wounded. Then, they merged again, their words slamming into her with so much force she felt them in her bones.

He is unbalanced. Shattered. Drifting where he should root.

We will not bind to a hollow heir. Not again.

Never again—never—again— The voices fractured, a chorus of nevers echoing in the dark.

“Another?” Araya asked, the strange phrasing tickling something in the back of her mind.

The shadows hissed, a violent, splintering sound.

There was another, they said. A ruler who was whole—until he was not.

His father fell—and we fell with him. The shadows paused, and Araya felt Loren stiffen behind her, tension radiating from him. The son is as weak as the father. We will not fall again.

“He—he’s barely had time,” Araya said, desperately piecing together the argument as she spoke. “He’s been in iron for twenty-five years. If you want a ruler worth binding yourselves to, at least give him a chance to?—”

The shadows shook around her, the void shuddering and rippling like a disturbed lake. Araya flinched, bracing for their anger—but the rattling tremor just went on and on.

They were laughing.

Or we strike him down. And choose another .

“Is there another?” Araya asked, praying to all the Gods that she was right. If she was wrong…they were all dead.

The shadows were silent for what felt like an eternity.

Not yet.

“Then you won’t get what you want if you kill him now," she argued. “Are you willing to risk waiting decades for another heir? One that might be even worse?”

She held her breath as they considered, ignoring the burning weight of Loren’s gaze on her back.

One chance. The void pulled back, but the weight of its presence lingered. One chance—lost prince. For the brave one who argued so well for you—even when you deny her.

Do not waste it.

A roar split the air. The void convulsed like a wounded beast—then, with a nauseating lurch, the world snapped back into place. Light and sound poured in, a dizzying rush of sensation that left her reeling and disoriented. The skiff groaned under her feet, the wind hissing past her ears as water lapped against the hull—but something was wrong.

Araya sucked in a breath, her heart hammering against her ribs as she scanned the horizon, searching for anything familiar. The towering wall of shadows still loomed—but it was the wrong side. There was no sign of the Obsidian Shore, no sign of Aetheris. Only the looming silhouette of an unfamiliar island.

They had crossed the Shadowed Veil.

Her head snapped toward Loren, searching for answers. But what she saw stopped her cold.

Still kneeling, he stared down at the black tendrils winding up his forearm, marking him from wrist to elbow. They almost seemed to move under his skin, their edges rippling like ink in water.

“ Loren ,” Araya gasped.

She reached for him, but he lurched back, climbing to his feet without even looking at her. Instead, he stared down at his marked arm, flexing and curling the fingers as if testing it.

When he finally raised his gaze, his green eyes were distant and shuttered, like a wall had gone up between them.

“Thorne!” Loren shouted.

The other male peeled himself off the deck, staring around with the same wild shock she’d felt. His amber eyes widened even further as he caught sight of the spiraling black mark on Loren’s arm.

“Take her back to the cabin,” Loren ordered.

“What?” Araya stared at him. She had saved them.

Even Thorne hesitated, glancing between them. “Loren…are you sure that’s what you want to do here?”

For a moment, Loren met her gaze—truly looking at her. His lips parted, something raw flickering in his eyes—a glimpse of what he wasn’t saying. But then his expression shuttered, that wall going up again between them.

“I’m sure,” he said, his voice cold. “And this time—lock the door.”