Page 20 of The Curse Between Us
Three more days passed in a tense, oppressive silence, each one stretching longer than the last. Zephyr could feel the weight of expectation pressing on him as if the air itself were thick with an impending storm. He braced himself, every nerve frayed, waiting for another messenger to come with news of more despair. The royal academy’s scholars were working tirelessly, burning the midnight oil to create a filtration system that could purify the contaminated water. It was their last hope, and though Wilfred’s eyes were bloodshot from sleepless nights, his resolve remained unwavering. During their brief meetings, he would look Zephyr in the eye and say, “We will solve this. We have to,” his voice full of quiet but steely conviction.
Zephyr couldn’t help but admire the tenacity in Wilfred, but his mind always circled back to the fears gnawing at him. Yet, despite it all, there was Edric—always there to ground him, his presence a balm to his frazzled nerves. In the nights that seemed endless, when nightmares would creep in and make him wake in cold sweat, Edric was his anchor. Even if the layers of thick clothing between them were a physical barrier, just knowing Edric was there beside him in his bed made the darkness of his dreams fade away, replaced by a sense of peace he hadn't known in weeks. Every morning, when he opened his eyes and saw Edric's head resting on the pillow next to his, it gave him the strength to face the day, no matter how dire it seemed.
On the fourth night, Zephyr and Edric returned to Zephyr’s chambers early. There was a new kind of familiarity between them now; these rooms, once only his own, had slowly become a shared space in his mind. Zephyr led the way, his heart lighter for the comfort Edric’s presence brought. He sank into the armchair by the fire, staring into its flickering depths, as if the flames might somehow reveal the answers to the questions that plagued him. The door closed softly behind Edric, and for a moment, there was only the crackling of the fire and the soft hush of the night.
“Zephyr.”
The sound of Edric’s voice broke the stillness, and Zephyr looked up. Their eyes met, the firelight dancing across Edric’s features—his sharp cheekbones, the strong line of his jaw, the way his lips curled into a soft, knowing smile. Zephyr’s heart stuttered in his chest, his body aching with the need to be close to him.
“You’ve been under a great deal of stress,” Edric said, his voice soft and understanding, yet there was an edge to it—something that made Zephyr’s pulse quicken.
“So have you,” Zephyr answered, his voice tight, but Edric only shrugged in response, letting his cloak fall to the floor as he moved toward the wardrobe.
Zephyr watched him, his curiosity piqued. He craned his neck, trying to see what Edric was up to, but the wooden door of the wardrobe blocked his view. A few moments passed before Edric emerged, a pair of black silk gloves in hand, his eyes gleaming with a knowing light.
“Hold out your hand.”
Zephyr hesitated, a protest on his lips, but Edric’s impatient gesture was all it took. He obeyed, extending his hand, his eyes locked with Edric’s. Slowly, deliberately, Edric slid the gloves over his own hands, the smooth fabric gleaming in the firelight. Then, with a slow, deliberate movement, Edric reached out and stroked the fingertip of one gloved hand across Zephyr’s palm.
A shiver ran down Zephyr’s spine, the cool silk brushing against his skin, and he had to bite his lip to suppress the surge of sensation that coursed through him. The fabric, though delicate, created a barrier between them, preventing the touch from being too harsh, but the eroticism of the action made his body tremble with anticipation.
Edric’s smile widened, a slow, knowing curve of his lips. “Perfect,” he murmured, his voice a low rasp, and then, to Zephyr’s shock, he sank to his knees before him.
Zephyr gasped, the air thick with tension, his chest tightening as Edric’s intentions became clear. “You—” he began, but Edric’s gaze, dark and intense, silenced him.
“Yes,” Edric affirmed softly, his voice steady despite the clear hunger in his eyes. He rested one gloved hand on Zephyr’s thigh, the warmth of his touch grounding, anchoring him in the moment. “Let me give you this, Zephyr.”
Nodding, Zephyr’s fingers fumbled at the ties of his breeches. He knew Edric wouldn’t want to risk the bare touch of his skin against Zephyr’s, and the thought sent a rush of heat through his body. His cock was already straining against the fabric of his trousers, and the anticipation of Edric’s touch made his heart race. Slowly, he undid the ties, letting his breeches fall to the floor in a pool of cloth.
With a breathless whisper, Zephyr spread his legs wide, leaning back in the chair. Edric looked up at him once, silently asking for permission, and Zephyr nodded, a soft “Please” escaping his lips.
The first brush of silk against his erection made Zephyr gasp, his body jerking involuntarily. The sensation was cool, almost teasing, as Edric’s hand moved with torturous slowness, the gloved fingers curling around Zephyr’s cock with deliberate ease. The contrast between the softness of the silk and the heat of his skin was dizzying, each stroke making Zephyr’s head spin.
“Why did we never think of this before?” Zephyr asked, his voice strained but curious, his body straining against the sensation.
Edric’s grip tightened, and Zephyr moaned, the sound raw in the silence of the room. “Stop thinking,” Edric ordered, his voice a command now, a gentle but firm directive. “Relax, husband.”
Zephyr’s body trembled as he obeyed, his head tilting back to rest against the velvet of the chair. Edric’s movements were fluid, practiced—each one a deliberate, slow dance meant to drive him to the edge. Zephyr’s breath hitched, his chest rising and falling with each pass of Edric’s gloved hand. The visual of the black silk against his flushed skin was more erotic than Zephyr had ever imagined, the sight of Edric’s hand moving over him in such a deliberate, controlled rhythm making his head spin.
As Edric’s movements quickened, Zephyr’s body responded, his hips bucking involuntarily. “Edric,” he gasped, his voice raw, “I’m so close.”
Edric’s eyes darkened, and he urged, “Look at me.”
Zephyr opened his eyes, locking them with Edric’s. The speed of Edric’s movements increased, each stroke a promise of release, and Zephyr’s mind went blank.
“I wish I could take you in my mouth,” Edric murmured, and that was all it took. Zephyr’s breath caught in his throat as pleasure coiled tight within him, and then it was gone—spilling over in a rush as he came, hot and fast, over Edric’s gloved hand. The sensation of release was overwhelming, his entire body trembling with the aftershocks.
Edric smirked, pleased with the result, and Zephyr felt an ache deep in his chest—a need to kiss that self-satisfied smirk away. But instead, he gestured to Edric’s hands, the gloved fingers still slick with Zephyr’s release.
Edric understood immediately, and with a low chuckle, he stripped the gloves from his hands, revealing his own erection. Zephyr wasted no time in pulling the gloves on himself, despite the lingering evidence of their previous encounter still clinging to the fabric. He looked down at the dark stains on the black silk, but Edric caught his gaze and spoke, his voice husky with desire, “Please.”
Zephyr smiled softly, reaching down to trace one gloved finger along Edric’s length. The silk felt impossibly smooth, the sensation sending shudders through Edric’s body as Zephyr wrapped his hand around him, the mixture of their release and the smooth fabric turning each stroke into a slow, steady glide. Edric’s eyes fluttered shut, his breathing ragged, as he finally succumbed to the same pleasure that had overtaken Zephyr. With a groan, Edric came, his release joining Zephyr’s on the black silk.
Zephyr waited for him to catch his breath before pulling the gloves off, a playful thought flitting through his mind. “I’ll have to ask the tailors to make more of these,” he said with a smile, glancing down at Edric, who was now stretched out on the floor, a look of satisfaction painted across his face. “Perhaps in other colours,” Zephyr mused aloud. “Red, maybe. Sapphire blue as well.”
“Yes,” Edric agreed, his voice full of satisfaction. “Please do. But for now—” He gestured toward the bed, and Zephyr nodded.
They changed into their night robes, the fur-lined warmth a welcome contrast to the chill in the air, before sliding into bed together. Edric yawned, his hand covering his mouth too late, and Zephyr’s heart swelled with affection. He stopped himself from leaning in for a kiss, though the urge was strong.
“Goodnight, Zephyr,” Edric murmured, his eyes already slipping shut.
“Goodnight, Edric,” Zephyr whispered back, pulling the covers tighter around them. It was only then, as his body finally began to relax, that he realized something. For the first time in days, the looming specter of Abyss, the prophecy, and the poisoned springs had not occupied a single thought in his mind since Edric had closed the chamber door behind them.
◆◆◆
The chamber was wrapped in a thick, oppressive darkness when Zephyr awoke, the soft glow of the fire reduced to little more than dying embers. The silence was suffocating, a heavy stillness that only seemed to amplify the low whine that echoed faintly from the high ceilings. Zephyr exhaled in relief, recognizing the sound immediately. “Here, Bianca,” he called softly, his voice barely a whisper to avoid waking Edric from his restless slumber.
A moment later, the fox’s small, wriggling body landed gently in Zephyr’s arms, pressing against him with a cold nose that nuzzled his cheek. Bianca let out a soft, pitiful whine, and Zephyr frowned, instinctively stroking his hand through her thick, soft fur. “What is it?” he murmured in concern. “Bad dreams again?”
Bianca responded with a sharp yip, her small body trembling against his, and then, before Zephyr could say anything more, a terrible crack split the night like the thunder of a distant storm. The sound reverberated through the chamber, and Zephyr’s stomach dropped. His heart skipped a beat as a sense of dread, sharp and sudden, knifed through him.
In an instant, Edric shot awake beside him, his wild eyes searching the room with the same desperate urgency that had once marked every battle. His hand reached instinctively for a sword that wasn’t there, his movements jerky and frantic. Zephyr's own body tensed as he leapt from the bed, eyes scanning the dark room for any sign of danger, when another bone-rattling noise split the air. It was as if the earth itself had cracked open, shaking with a ferocity that made the very walls tremble.
Bianca leaped from Zephyr's arms and ran toward the large window, her small paws clicking on the floor in a hurried dance. Zephyr, now filled with an aching sense of unease, turned toward the window, his pulse hammering in his chest. The heavy drapes had been drawn tight against the night’s cold, but the moment he crossed the room, the tension in his body coiled tighter still.
“Zephyr, don’t—” Edric’s voice followed, low and full of warning, but Zephyr didn’t wait to hear more.
With a swift motion, he threw the drapes open, and the sight before him stole the breath from his lungs.
The great waterfall, which had stood untouched and unchanging for centuries, was now shattered. The massive, endless flow of water that had always been a constant in Eskarven, a symbol of strength and stability, was torn down the middle. The jagged tear in the rock, wide and jagged like a wound freshly inflicted, split the majestic fall in two. The force of the damage was so violent, it seemed to shake the very foundation of the land itself. Zephyr’s breath caught in his throat, the image so shocking in its devastation that it felt surreal, like some kind of nightmare made real.
The dim light of the rising dawn only emphasized the brutality of the break. It was as though the world had shifted, everything that was once secure and constant now laid bare and vulnerable.
He heard Edric approach behind him, heard the muffled curse that fell from his lips as his own eyes found the destruction. “I’m sorry,” Edric murmured softly, but Zephyr barely heard him through the white-hot surge of anger that consumed him.
Only one thought was clear in his mind—this had gone on long enough.
Turning on his heel, Zephyr moved with a sudden urgency, his frustration mounting, his fingers curling into fists. He marched over to the wardrobe, yanking open the doors and pulling out clothing without care or thought for how they would match. Fur-lined leggings, a thick woolen shirt, a heavy cloak, a sturdy hat—anything that would protect him from the cold as he set out into the mountains. He didn’t care for appearances now; only the urgency of the moment mattered.
“Zephyr?” Edric’s voice was hesitant, almost strained. “That’s rather a lot for a court council, don’t you think?”
“I’m not holding a council,” Zephyr snapped, his voice tight with restrained fury. “I am riding into the mountains, and I am ending this now. Abyss found me once. It can do so again. I have words I wish to say to it.”
“Zephyr.” Edric’s voice was low, filled with caution, but his presence close behind Zephyr was unwavering. “Wait, please.”
Zephyr whirled around, his temper flaring as he faced Edric. His hands were clenched tightly at his sides, and for a moment, he felt as though he might explode from the frustration that burned in his chest. “No, Edric,” he said, his voice like iron. “I will not stand by while my kingdom is torn apart. I cannot just watch this happen! I don’t expect you to understand. This is not your land, after all.”
Edric’s face went pale, his eyes widening slightly as though struck by the force of Zephyr’s words. He took a step back, the space between them suddenly feeling like a chasm. The reaction hit Zephyr like a fist to the gut, and instantly, regret washed over him. His heart twisted in discomfort as he realized how harsh his words had been.
“I’m sorry—” he started, reaching out, but Edric held up a hand, stopping him.
“Maybe it isn’t,” Edric said quietly, his voice steady despite the tension between them. He crossed his arms over his chest, his expression unreadable. “But something similar could be happening in Rafria right now. Even if it’s not, this is a blow to me as well, Zephyr.” Edric shook his head, sighing heavily, the weariness clear in his posture despite having only just woken. “Don’t you understand by now? Our lands, our destinies, they are joined. Just as we are.”
Zephyr was quiet for a moment, letting the weight of Edric’s words settle in. His chest tightened, guilt gnawing at him. Edric was right, but it was hard to admit. His thoughts were too clouded by anger, frustration, and a deep, gnawing fear for his kingdom’s future.
“And that is the very reason Abyss strikes at us,” Edric continued softly, his voice full of a quiet wisdom that made Zephyr pause.
Zephyr exhaled slowly, his anger dissipating slightly, replaced by a heavy ache deep in his chest. Letting the bundle of clothing in his arms drop to the floor, he closed his eyes for a moment, trying to regain his composure. “Then what would you have me do?” he asked, his voice strained with emotion. “Edric, I can’t just do nothing. I simply cannot.”
“I would never ask you to.” Edric’s voice was calm, but there was a fierce determination in it. He bent down and gathered up the clothes Zephyr had discarded, passing a few of the lighter layers back to him. “I’m asking you to let me help you.”
Zephyr took a breath, the tension in his shoulders loosening slightly as he reluctantly nodded. He stripped off his nightrobe and began to dress. “How?”
Edric, his back turned to Zephyr for a moment as he selected his own clothing, spoke in a quiet but firm tone. “We send the fastest rider to Rafria to get help. Alec and some of the guards can join us here. Then we ride into the mountains to seek Abyss.” He turned to face Zephyr, his eyes meeting his with an unflinching resolve. “But we do it together.”
Zephyr stood silently for a moment, looking into Edric’s eyes. His heart still raced, but the anger was fading, replaced by a quiet understanding. He couldn’t keep fighting this battle alone. And perhaps—just perhaps—he didn’t have to.
With a slow nod, Zephyr allowed Edric to guide him through this. They dressed quickly, knowing the castle would soon be in turmoil at the news of the waterfall’s destruction. Just before they left the chamber, Zephyr reached out and placed a hand on Edric’s shoulder, stopping him.
“I’m sorry,” Zephyr said softly, his voice almost a whisper. “I didn’t mean to suggest that you don’t care about what happens to Eskarven. I know you do. I was just... distraught.”
Edric’s gaze softened, his lips curving into a wry smile. “You weren’t entirely wrong,” he said. “Had something like this happened in Rafria, I likely would have reacted the same way you did. And I imagine you would have been the one trying to stop me from riding out alone to face Abyss.”
Zephyr managed a small, rueful smile. “That does seem likely.”
“But that’s why we have each other,” Edric said quietly, stepping closer and offering Zephyr a reassuring look. “To face our enemies together.”
Zephyr chuckled softly, shaking his head as he threw one last glance at the window and the shattered waterfall outside. “How far we’ve come from being enemies ourselves.”
Edric grimaced at the memory but said nothing. Instead, he opened the chamber door and nodded toward the hall beyond. “And farther yet to go.”
◆◆◆
They rode out the next morning, the weight of the previous night’s decisions still pressing heavily on Zephyr’s shoulders. The endless rounds of council meetings and strategy sessions had been a blur of tense faces and sharp words, all aimed at securing the future of Eskarven. Many of the courtiers and advisors had been quick to suggest re-forming the army, riding out in force to strike back at whatever threat loomed in the mountains. But Zephyr had refused that suggestion with a calm determination. The castle needed to be protected, especially with the knowledge that other dangers could emerge in their absence. Besides, Edric had already sent a messenger to Rafria, requesting additional forces to meet them at the foot of the mountains. Together, they would be enough to confront whatever awaited them.
Still, Zephyr had insisted on bringing a select few trusted companions along on the expedition. Clara, Ollie, and Wilfred were the only ones he could think of to bring, each one skilled and loyal in their own right. He had expected Pierce to protest—he always did, his ever-present worry for Zephyr’s safety never far from his thoughts. Sure enough, the steward looked displeased to be left behind once again, but Zephyr gave him an imploring look that caused Pierce to relent, albeit reluctantly. He trusted Pierce to keep the palace running smoothly in his absence, particularly with Hannah’s help.
“Watch yourself out there,” Pierce murmured as he pulled Zephyr into a brief but heartfelt farewell embrace in the castle courtyard. “I may be content to play regent, but we need you as our king.”
Zephyr chuckled softly, though his throat was tight. “I have no plans to give up the crown anytime soon,” he assured him. He paused, looking around at the familiar, beloved walls of the castle, the sunlight gleaming off the polished crystal that adorned the outer walls. “I will return.”
Pierce nodded, though his face remained shadowed with worry. He lifted his hand in a final salute as the column of riders began to move out through the gates, the black and white banners of Eskarven fluttering in the wind. Zephyr didn’t look back. He couldn’t afford to. His gaze was firmly fixed on the distant peaks of the mountains, his mind already racing with the unknowns that lay ahead.
Edric, riding close at his side, glanced over at Zephyr from time to time, his expression hesitant, but he didn’t speak. It wasn’t that they were angry with one another—quite the opposite—but there was a weight of unspoken words between them. They had fought for peace together, and now they were riding toward a war they had hoped to avoid. A grim company, united in their defense of home, but not one of them thrilled at the prospect of this battle.
The journey was long and slow, the mountain path beginning to rise as they reached the foothills. They met the party from Rafria at the base, and Zephyr was grateful for the support. The sight of familiar faces—Alec, Marsh, and the rest of the Rafrian contingent—was a welcome relief. As Edric threw himself into his brother’s embrace, Zephyr greeted them with the same warmth, nodding politely to the others.
“Thank you for coming,” Zephyr said, clasping Alec by the shoulders. “I am sorry you were forced to put this armour on again.”
Alec, though his mouth was set in a grim line, shook his head. “I am not,” he said. “I have been and always will be willing to defend Rafria from any threats.” He turned to meet Zephyr’s eyes, a silent promise in his gaze. “And to defend Eskarven as well.”
“We all are,” Marsh added with a wink, grinning as he placed a hand on Edric’s shoulder. “We wouldn’t let you go off on your own, Your Majesty.”
Edric rolled his eyes fondly but couldn’t quite suppress the small smile that tugged at the corners of his lips. He wheeled his horse back into place at the head of their joined column of riders. “Very well, then,” he said with a mock salute, casting a glance over at Zephyr. “At your command.”
Zephyr nodded, feeling the full weight of leadership fall upon him. He reached down and drew his sword, the morning sunlight glinting off the blade, turning it to liquid fire. For a moment, he considered retrieving Icelight, the ancient sword from the catacombs that had been passed down through generations of kings, but the weight of it felt unfamiliar to him. He preferred the security of his own blade, one that had been with him through countless battles, a reminder of the journey he had already taken.
“Move out!” he called, his voice strong and unwavering.
As they began their ascent, Alec, riding just behind Edric and Zephyr, turned his sharp eyes to the landscape around them. The path was winding, curving slowly upward into the mountains. “What exactly is it you hope to find here?” Alec asked, his gaze scanning the gentle hills that surrounded them. “Edric mentioned the strange new forest in his last letter. Is that our destination?”
Zephyr hesitated, glancing at Edric before responding. “I don’t know,” he admitted, his voice laced with uncertainty. “We’re searching for some sign of Abyss’s presence. Something that might help us hurt it the way we’ve been hurt.” He glanced up at the mountains, the peaks shrouded in mist. “The only thing I know for certain is that it’s here, somewhere.”
Alec nodded grimly, his eyes reflecting the understanding of someone who had already experienced similar pain. “The way we have all been hurt,” he murmured, his voice heavy with shared history. Turning in his saddle, he beckoned Hadley to join them. She had been riding behind, a silent but steady presence, ever-watchful.
Hadley rode up with the grace of someone accustomed to the saddle. Her fiery hair stood out sharply against her white cloak, and she drew it tighter around herself as the wind picked up. The temperature was dropping with each passing moment as they climbed higher into the mountains.
“There’s a foulness to the air here,” she said quietly, her keen eyes scanning the landscape around them. Her voice held the tone of someone accustomed to sensing the ebb and flow of life’s hidden forces.
“Yes,” Zephyr agreed, his hands tightening around the reins as they reached the first of the polluted springs. The air had grown thick and still, the scent of decay and rot clinging to the land. “Just ahead, you’ll see the first of the polluted springs. The source of this plague.”
Hadley’s gaze sharpened, and her expression grew even more solemn. “A cruel but cunning strike,” she murmured. “We must be cunning ourselves, if we are to win this fight.”
Zephyr nodded, but his attention was already turning to something else. He twisted in his saddle, scanning the riders behind him. “The Chief Strategist did not accompany you?” he asked, his voice thoughtful.
Alec shook his head, glancing over at Zephyr with a slight shrug. “No. Despite his protests, I ordered Herbert to remain behind at the castle to oversee matters there. He and some of our best guards will hold the fort while we’re gone.” He glanced over at Edric with an apologetic look. “You’ll notice Victor isn’t among us, for one.”
“Good,” Edric replied with quiet approval. “We took a similar approach.”
Zephyr, though his focus remained on the task ahead, couldn’t help but feel a flicker of warmth at Edric’s words. It was a small thing, but it made him feel a little less alone in his role as a leader, especially now that their two kingdoms were more intertwined than ever. He glanced at Edric, offering a small smile in return, and was rewarded with a wink that sent a spark of something bright into his chest.
The first polluted spring was a chilling sight. The water was thick and brown, the once-clear liquid now tainted and foul. Clara and Hadley immediately dismounted, moving together to confer quietly, their expressions serious and tight with concern. Zephyr strained to hear their conversation, but the words were lost on the wind. He could feel the tension in the air, a palpable force that weighed on everyone present.
After a few minutes, Clara and Hadley urged their horses onward, still speaking in low voices. Zephyr turned to Edric, a soft sigh escaping him.
“I trust them both with my life and the safety of our kingdoms,” Edric whispered. “But I do wish they could be more forthcoming.”
Zephyr chuckled softly, shaking his head. “I believe one must be enigmatic to begin with to become a priest or priestess,” he said wryly, “and I imagine it only increases with time.”
Edric snorted, but the smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Indeed.” He looked over at Alec and raised an eyebrow. “Will you be cool and mysterious just as they are if you continue your studies at the temple, Alec?”
Alec shrugged, a teasing glint in his hazel eyes. “Who can say what the future will hold?” he replied, his tone light, but there was an underlying seriousness to it.
Edric groaned as he tried to steady himself, his face flushed from the cold wind and his labored steps. Zephyr bit back a smile, the sound of Edric’s discomfort oddly comforting in the otherwise tense atmosphere. Alec, riding just behind them, caught his eye and winked with a grin that was quickly concealed behind his hand. Without missing a beat, he guided his horse over to Ollie and engaged him in conversation, the soft murmur of their voices a stark contrast to the quiet that hung over the rest of the party.
Soon, the riders reached the path that led toward the newly discovered forest. Zephyr, who had been quietly observing the landscape, raised his hand to signal a halt. He pointed in the direction of the trail with authority, his voice carrying over to the group. “This trail was only discovered a few days ago,” he began, making sure everyone could hear. “But I do not believe it poses a threat.”
A few speculative murmurs rose from the ranks, their curiosity piqued. The path before them wound between rocky outcrops that hid the way ahead, making it difficult to see what lay beyond. The riders fidgeted, clearly eager to understand the terrain, but Zephyr held his ground, waiting for them to process the information.
“And what lies beyond?” Alec asked after a few moments of silence, his voice laced with a hint of suspicion as he pointed ahead, gesturing to the area beyond the forest.
Zephyr was about to respond when Ollie, always eager to share his knowledge, spoke up first. “Very little,” he said, his voice calm. “The path ends at the base of the highest mountain there.” He pointed toward the towering peak that loomed above all others, its snowy crown a sharp contrast against the darkening sky. “This trail was only meant to give us access to the springs. It does not cross the entire range.”
Alec nodded thoughtfully, but the determination in his eyes was evident. Clara, who had been silent up until that point, now spoke with quiet decisiveness. “We should continue forward,” she said, her voice unwavering. “If we are to find any answers, it will be in the shadow of that mountain.”
Zephyr turned to Edric, seeking his input. Edric, with his usual calm demeanor, shrugged slightly and spread his hands wide. He looked back at Zephyr, his eyes shining with an unspoken agreement, and glanced at Hadley, who was nodding from her place beside Clara. Their conviction was enough to push Zephyr into action. It was time to move forward.
“Dismount here,” Zephyr instructed, his voice firm. “The path is narrow, and our horses will only hinder us.”
He motioned to two of his guards, signaling for them to stay with the horses while the rest of the group followed him. Edric did the same with his own guards, and soon the riders were on foot, with the cold air biting at their faces and the jagged terrain underfoot.
“The rest of you, follow me,” Zephyr said, glancing back at his companions. He shot Edric a teasing look, and before he could say anything further, corrected himself. “Follow us.”
With that, he and Edric led the way, stepping carefully through the icy landscape. They navigated their way over patches of ice and sharp rocks, each step calculated to avoid slipping on the treacherous ground. Edric, not as familiar with this kind of terrain, stumbled once, nearly losing his balance. But Zephyr was quick to reach out, grabbing him by the arm and steadying him with a firm grip.
“Careful,” Zephyr warned, his voice low but filled with concern.
Edric let out a sheepish grin, a faint blush creeping onto his cheeks from the cold. He squeezed Zephyr’s shoulder in gratitude. “I’m glad I have you to look out for me,” he said, his voice soft. His lips were dry from the biting wind, and his cheeks flushed with more than just the cold, but to Zephyr, he had never looked more beautiful. There was something about the ruggedness of the mountain backdrop that made Edric seem even more striking, as if he belonged here, standing tall against the elements.
“Always,” Zephyr replied softly, his words just for Edric’s ears, and he meant it with every fiber of his being.
As they continued on, the landscape around them grew increasingly wild and desolate, with each step taking them further into the shadow of the mountain. The trail grew steeper, and soon, they reached a point where the path came to an abrupt end. Zephyr scrambled up over the rocks with ease, his well-worn boots finding purchase on the uneven surface. He pulled Edric up beside him with little effort, his hand gripping Edric’s arm firmly to ensure he didn’t slip.
Once they were at the top of the rocky outcrop, Zephyr took a moment to survey the scene, the wind whipping around him as he looked back at the others, who were fanning out across the base of the mountain. There was a tension in the air, as if the mountain itself was holding its breath.
“Well?” Zephyr asked, turning to Clara and Hadley, who had kept their distance from the rest of the group. They had been quiet for the duration of the journey, but now they stepped forward to join him.
Clara, always the first to speak her mind, shook her head slowly. Her face was grave, the lines around her eyes etched with concern. “This mountain is old,” she said, her gloved hand brushing against a stone outcrop nearby. “Very old.”
Hadley, her eyes closed as if listening to the earth itself, tilted her head upwards. The wind tugged at her white cloak, but she remained undisturbed. “There is great power here,” she said, her voice almost a whisper, as if she were speaking to the mountain itself. “And great anger.” She turned her gaze toward Zephyr and Edric, her eyes dark with concern. “Can you feel it?”
Zephyr closed his eyes for a moment, letting the wind carry the scents of the mountain. The familiar smell of ash was absent here, but there was something else—something metallic and sharp, like silver woven into the very stone around them. It was a feeling that clawed at his insides, a deep, unsettling presence that made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end.
“Yes,” he said quietly, his voice carrying the weight of the realization. “I can.”
His eyes flicked open, and he continued climbing further up the slope of the mountain, testing each rock beneath his feet before committing his full weight to it. He was careful now, each step a deliberate choice as he moved farther into the heart of the mountain. Edric, though slower and more cautious, followed him, his expression dark with the same unease.
As Zephyr paused to glance back at the others, he saw Alec and Ollie organizing the rest of the party into smaller groups, keeping them within sight but spreading out as they continued to explore the base of the mountain. The steady rhythm of their actions only served to deepen Zephyr’s apprehension.
A few feet ahead of them, there was a small ledge—a natural outcrop of rock that jutted out over the void below. Zephyr swung himself onto it, his body moving with ease as he found his footing. He reached down and helped Edric up beside him, his grip firm as he pulled him to safety.
Standing there, with the wind whipping through his hair and the vast expanse of the mountain stretching out before them, Zephyr couldn’t help but feel the weight of what lay ahead. His heart clenched painfully as he wondered what other horrors Abyss had in store for them, what new challenges they would face.
Edric, meanwhile, had turned his gaze out toward the distant horizon. Though they couldn’t see Rafria from their current position, the longing in Edric’s eyes was undeniable. Zephyr took a step toward him, his boots crunching the snow beneath his feet. The wind carried with it a metallic tang, a reminder of the power that lay hidden within the mountain.
As Zephyr reached Edric’s side, he was about to speak, but the ground beneath them suddenly gave way with a terrifying rumble. In an instant, the earth cracked open, and both Zephyr and Edric were swallowed by the darkness, falling into the void that had been hidden beneath their feet.