Page 12

Chapter

Twelve

The sky darkens as we fly, but not from storm clouds. It’s like the sun decided not to shine near Courtsview anymore. The trees below are warped silhouettes, their branches curled inward like bones refusing to reach.

Vash rumbles beneath me, his muscles taut.

“I don’t like this,” Harek calls from behind me, the sound barely carrying over the wind.

“Neither does he,” I shout back.

Ahead, Sapphire dives lower, her orange scales catching the little light that breaks through the haze. Einar rides steady, unmoved. He’s flown this route many times.

We descend into a shallow valley where blackened ruins stretch across scorched earth. An archway leans sideways, its crest worn smooth by time and the dark magic that still lingers here.

Harek indicates for Vash to land, but he resists.

I stroke his neck gently. “Just a minute, then we’re out.”

He snorts, smoke curling from his nostrils, but obeys. We touch down inside the shell of what must’ve been a grand hall once—pillars toppled, vines crawling through broken windows, the floor cracked and overgrown. Only a few mosaic tiles remain, glinting beneath the grime.

Sapphire lands hard nearby, shaking off a branch that clings to her wing. Einar slides from her back, already moving to scan the perimeter. “This was a council chamber. Fae high courts met here once a season.”

Harek eyes the surroundings. “And now?”

Einar doesn’t look at him. “Now it watches its own decay.”

A shudder runs down my spine.

Vash stalks forward a few paces, his tail twitching, and head low. He stops suddenly, a low growl in his throat so deep it vibrates through the stone beneath our feet.

“Vash?” I move toward him.

He lowers his head to one of the standing pillars, a curved slab half-swallowed by roots and moss.

A carving, worn but unmistakable. The hunter’s crest—halved and mirrored, just like the rune Lys left behind. The etchings pulse faintly in my vision, shimmering like heat over stone.

My fingers brush the hilt at my side, and the sword responds, warming beneath my touch.

Einar strides over, brows drawn. He brushes away the moss, revealing more of the pattern. Symbols branch outward, connecting to old, fae script so weathered it crumbles at the edges.

“This wasn’t here the last time. And the crest wasn’t mirrored then. It was whole.”

Harek approaches, stands close to me. He stares at the stone. “What does it mean?”

I shake my head slowly. “And why is it changing?”

“Or waking,” Einar mutters under his breath.

The air stills. Even the wind seems to pause, holding its breath around us.

Harek clears his throat. “It’s getting late. We aren’t heading into the city now, are we?”

My father shakes his head. “No, we’ll eat, get a good night’s sleep, then storm in first thing tomorrow.”

His wording makes my stomach roil. While I’ve fought and killed evil fae before, the numbers were smaller. They could be astronomical inside the sprawling, albeit crumbling, walls not far from here. But with both hunters fighting together, we have the potential to restore goodness to this place.

Hopefully.

Despite my promise to Vash, we end up setting up camp beneath what remains of the council chamber’s vaulted ceiling.

Nothing seems to go as I expect. A jagged hole gapes above us like a missing tooth in the sky.

Faint moonlight seeps in, paler than it should be.

It’s like the sun doesn’t want to touch the moon from this angle, either.

The dragons curl near the broken entrance—guarding, not resting. Their eyes remain open, watching the trees.

Harek gathers stones for a fire while I check our supplies. Einar lays out a rough map against a toppled bench, tracing paths through Courtsview’s interior with his fingertip. We eat the leftover food from this morning in silence.

No one speaks of the symbol again. I sit cross-legged on a patch of old tiles, brushing away dirt to see the glinting amber and slate blue beneath. One piece shows a line of eroded fae figures kneeling before a winged shape.

“What do you think this place remembers?” I ask.

Harek scoots closer to me. “Everything.”

Einar doesn’t look away from the map. “The question isn’t what it remembers but whether it forgives.”

A chill skates along my spine.

The fire crackles to life, low and smoky, curling in on itself like it doesn’t want to rise too high. Even flame hesitates here.

I settle beside it, but warmth doesn’t sink in.

Sapphire lifts her head, alert. Vash presses closer to her side.

“Something’s watching us,” I murmur.

Einar doesn’t disagree.

Harek settles right next to me, just close enough that our shoulders touch. He doesn’t speak at first, and neither do I.

The fire pops, making me jump. He wraps a protective arm around me.

My father flicks a glance toward us but continues studying his map. I can’t fathom how he sees it in only the light of anemic flames.

Above us, the stars flicker through the shattered ceiling—muted and distant, as if even the sky has pulled back from this place.

“You always do that,” Harek says finally.

I arch a brow at him. “Do what?”

“Deflect. Nothing’s watching us. You deflect when you’re scared.”

“No, I don’t.” My jaw tightens. “And I’m not scared.”

He doesn’t push. Just watches the fire, taps a foot.

I exhale slowly. “Fine, I’m a little scared. But not of this place.”

His gaze shifts to me. “Then what?”

I don’t answer right away. My fingers curl around a loose thread on my cloak, tugging gently. “Of all the unknowns. What I might become, or of who I might have to lose to stop all of this.”

Harek’s jaw works, but he keeps his voice steady. “You won’t lose me.”

“You can’t promise that.”

“I just did.” He gives me a look that dares me to counter him.

There’s a heartbeat of silence. I look away, unsure if I’m grateful or angry he still believes in something I no longer can.

“You don’t know what the curse will demand,” I say. “None of us do.”

“I don’t care. We’ll get through it.”

I meet his gaze. Something raw passes between us. We’re closer than we’ve ever been, and yet impossibly far apart.

He breaks the moment, rising to his feet. “I’ll take the first watch.”

Without another word, he steps through what remains of the doorway. I’m left with only the fire and my thoughts. For some reason, a lump forms in my throat.

My hunter’s sword pulses softly in its sheath, as if reminding me it’s still listening.

Einar sits a few paces beyond the firelight, half-shadowed, hunched over the map like it might confess something new if he stares hard enough.

I approach softly, lower myself next to him.

He glances at me. “You should get some sleep.”

“What about you?”

“I’m used to fighting the evil fae. Been doing that at least a century longer than you’ve been alive.”

It’s hard to argue that point, so I change the subject. “I thought she left because she didn’t love you.”

Einar looks like he’s holding back a smile. “So you do deflect.”

My face flames. “That was a private conversation. And you’re deflecting. Maybe I get it from you.”

He doesn’t flinch. “I never fully understood why she left, but it wasn’t because she didn’t love me.”

Silence stretches. I’m the first to break it. “She left because she didn’t want us to be enemies.”

He nods once. “I believe that was a big part of it. She was convinced there had to be a way to break the cycle, or at least delay it. Unfortunately, she never found the answer she sought.”

“And now?”

He finally meets my gaze. “I think she hoped you would find what we couldn’t.”

I study his face—lined with quiet anger and restraint. A man who’s learned to live with impossible weight.

“I hated you for a long time,” I whisper. “Worse, I didn’t think of you at all.”

“I hated myself longer,” he says, voice low. “But the moment I saw you, I knew she’d been right to leave.”

That catches me. “Why?”

He looks away. “Because you don’t just carry her blood, you carry her conviction. I see it every time you argue with me.”

Despite everything, a small smile tugs at my mouth. “So, I’m stubborn?”

He snorts. “You’re her daughter.” A pause. “And mine.”

The fire flickers between us.

“I want to try,” I say. “Not to kill each other, but to fight together.”

His jaw tightens, but he nods slowly. “I know, and we will. But I’m prepared to go the traditional route if need be.”

The words feel like a sword to my heart. “In other words, you plan to die.”

“I hope it doesn’t come down to that, my fierce young warrior.”

Tears mist my eyes, but I square my shoulders. “It won’t. We’re going to fight together and break the curse. Even Lys brought that up.”

My father’s eyes narrow. “Don’t take his words to heart. Something about him troubles me, but I can’t place my finger on it.”

“He believes in our curse’s loophole. That’s all I need to know.”

“Just promise me you’ll be wary of him should we cross paths again.”

I sigh dramatically, promising nothing.

Einar tilts his head, several of his dreadlocks falling in front of his face. “I need to hear you say it.”

“Fine.” I squeeze my fists together. “I’ll be careful around him.”

Though I doubt I’ll be nearly as careful as Einar hopes.