Page 11

Talysse

C limbing the spiraling stairs, I leap over gaps; my shoulder pressed tightly against the cold stone wall. The prince’s gaze is a weight on my back, following my every move. Any moment now, he could strike.

My trembling hand searches for support in the crumbling masonry. I have never felt so vulnerable in my life. My fingers close around a stone in my pocket—a small, pitiful defense against the full-blooded Fae with terrifying magic. The absurdity of it almost makes me laugh. What hope do I have? He’s honed his powers into lethal precision over decades, while I can only manage a few unclear illusions or shove someone off balance.

Yet no lightning sears my flesh. No blast hurls me into the walls. The faint glow of flames fades with each turn of the stairs, and the darkness ahead thickens like a living thing.

This would be a perfect breeding ground for Shadowfeeders. Gluttonous to devour life, they can spawn in any shadow beyond the reach of the Blessed Light spell. Reluctantly, I summon a small light, creating a faint, shimmering cloud above my head. It casts just enough light to reveal the rubble and cracks, making the shadows entwine into monstrous shapes. The spell is too weak to keep the Shadowfeeders at bay, and it will only last a few minutes. But that’s all the time I need to find a vantage point.

The first level is blocked off—rocks and debris barricade the entrance. A desperate defense, perhaps, but it clearly didn’t save the people who once lived here. Whatever swept through this city left nothing alive.

My steps sink into a thick layer of dust on the way to the second floor, untouched for centuries. Has no one else made it this far? Or did others try, only to meet their end at the hands of the prince? My breath catches at the thought; I am already dreading the idea of my way back. Maybe that cruel monster is just sitting there, waiting. The last notes of the haunting melody have died out a while ago. Maybe he’s gone?

Small steps, Talysse.

The light spell starts to drain me, but I’ve reached the landing of the second floor. The faint glow of the spell reveals delicate filigree leaves and flowers carved into the stone, with traces of paint still clinging to the carvings—roses that were once a vivid red, leaves a deep emerald green. For a moment, I pause, imagining the beauty this place must have once held.

The human kingdoms rivaled the Fae ones before the Hex. Art, magic, and science competed to create the perfect society. So much lost to the greed for more power…

My fingers follow the faded paint. Colors have always captivated me—they are so rare in this gray world. I’ve often tried to picture a world drenched in color: vast green forests, meadows dotted with flowers in every hue, birds splashed with the paints of Raynisse’s palette, clear lakes with golden fish…No decay, no death lurking in the shadows, no long nights.

Moonlight filters through the arched door, and I dismiss my weak spell.

My steps disturb the thick, rotten carpet, raising clouds of dust that shimmer like snowflakes in the light of my spell. Dark outlines of overturned furniture emerge as I cautiously approach an arched window, the night sky framed by intricate stone tracery. I glance over my shoulder, half-expecting to see the prince stalking me. But there’s no one there. Whatever twisted game he’s playing, he’s letting me be—for now. The knot in my stomach loosens and I turn to the window.

The city sprawls endlessly beneath the moonlight, an ocean of marble frozen in time. It looks peaceful, but the darkness is too thick in the shadows of a tall ruin not far from the tower. It seems alive, expanding, its tendrils slowly snaking down the narrow alleys.

Atos’s hairy armpits!

Shadowfeeders!

Nobody who has seen them lives to tell. Yet, some travelers speak of ten-foot-tall cloaked figures with malevolent eyes, clawed limbs, and unfathomable speed. Only the magical Shadowblades can harm them, legendary weapons wielded by a few powerful Fae, yet nobody has ever boasted about killing one. If you can’t hurt it or outrun it, avoid it—simple wisdom from the streets of Tenebris. I carefully mark the spot on the mental map I’m drawing, vowing to avoid it at any cost. Then I continue scanning the ruins for something worth investigating.

There is a building that looks like an arcane academy. It’s pentagonal, each wing devoted to one of the Elders. The courtyard is littered with rubble and overgrown with weeds. My heart drums in my chest. Finally, something that gives me hope! I prepare for the dreaded way out of this tower, when something else draws my attention. Someone was faster than me. Like a lost soul, flickering light creeps among the bushes while another one—a simple torch—climbs the grand staircase of the main entrance of the building. Another contestant must have started their search there. A tiny, excited yelp escapes me. Seems like the first clash of these Trials is just minutes away. And to make the stakes even higher, more Shadowfeeders appear in the dark alleys below, gliding through the gloom to the academy.

Time is running out. Soon, the city will be crawling with them, and wherever they go, their thralls—the Tainted Ones—will follow.

And then we’re all screwed.

Sharpening that sense with no name, I try to find any source of magic.

And there it is. An oddity.

A mansion of white stone, untouched by decay or whatever destroyed the city. It sticks out like a sore thumb. The rays of the moon around it flicker with odd iridescence, reflected by its sparkling surface. It’s just half a mile from the pentagonal building, and, praised be the Elders, no lights wander around it. The ruins stretch for many miles, and noticing it from the ground is probably impossible. I’m absorbed in memorizing the safest route through the maze of the streets when a loud thud and footsteps above startle me.

Someone is walking on the level above me.

Did the prince climb up unnoticed? That’s simply impossible. I press my back against the wall, blending with the shadows next to the window. The heavy steps above head toward the stairwell. Whoever is upstairs is most likely coming my way.

Just great. I am caught between the intruder above and the murderous prince below. Best to hide and let them take each other out.

A deafening thunder shakes the building. Dust and tiny rocks shower from the ceiling, powdering my leather doublet. An agonizing female shriek slices through the night, piercing me to the marrow.

And drawing all Shadowfeeders in the town our way.

This was unmistakably the last sound someone did in this world. Someone perishing in great pain. And it came from downstairs, where the prince was playing his melody of death. The thunder, without any doubt, was a powerful spell.

My breaths come fast and shallow. The steps above resume, rumbling down the stairs. Whoever is upstairs is now in a hurry.

Shadowfeeders outside? Checked.

A murderous Unseelie Prince on my only way out? Checked.

Is some unknown horror from above heading my way? Checked.

Can it get any worse?

Atos take me; here I did it again. Challenged Seuta. And she loves proving to us, mortals, THAT IT COULD ALWAYS GET WORSE.

A tall, lithe male figure stands in the arched doorway. Completely still, I try to breathe as quietly as possible and lower my lashes to obscure the whites of my eyes.

The steps slow down when he reaches the square of moonlight in the center of the room.

“Talysse, praised be the Elders; it’s really you!”

Those unruly brown curls, the firm jawline, the glimmer of massive golden earrings—“Gale?” I breathe and want to punch myself immediately; it came out too loud. “How did you get past the murderous bastard downstairs? Or were you hiding upstairs?”

“There’s another way in, Talysse. Upstairs. Wait, what did you say? You walked past Aeidas, and he let you live?” His forehead scrunches a bit as if he’s struggling to believe it.

“Yes, he was playing that cursed flute, and then there was that spell…don’t come any closer; I am armed,” the lie glides effortlessly off my tongue. “What do you want from me?”

“Really, Talysse? What do I want from you?” He spreads his arms, showing me his empty hands. “I am unarmed. And unlike the other one,” his finger points downstairs, “sitting at the exit of this tower and slaying everyone who comes around, I have no deadly magic that can fry you in an instant.”

“What do you want?” I insist, my voice hoarse with tension.

“I think we’ve been through that during dinner, Talysse.” He takes another step toward me, the moonlight sharpening his handsome features. His ever-smiling eyes glow like amber. “We’re both humans. Cattle among predators. We can use each other’s help.” He takes another step, that disarming smile tugging the corner of his lip up. His too-perfect teeth flash in a not-so-human way in the moonlight.

“I’ll cast a spell, Gale. Stay where you are.” My magic is weak, and my chances against a man of his size are laughable. But to trust anyone in these Trials, where only one can emerge victorious, is plain stupid.

“Look, Talysse, Shadowfeeders are gathering outside as we speak, and there is a murderous Unseelie downstairs. Are you really having any doubts about whom to trust?”

An explosion thunders somewhere in the city, shaking the old tower. The floorboards beneath our feet screech and twist. The cracking of beams reverberates through the old structure long after the echo of the explosion has died out.

Tall blue flames consume the pentagonal building outside. It seems that the two contestants have found each other, or someone triggered a magical trap. And to make matters worse, the shadows in the ruins stretch and deepen. Tendrils of darkness feel their way around the ancient stones.

More Sahdowfeeders.

When I look back at Gale, it is already too late. He is at me. His fingers capture my wrists, and he pulls me in against his hard body, pressing a palm against my mouth, silencing a scream and a spell. There’s something in the way he holds me—he’s strong enough to crush me, yet he keeps himself in check. He restrains me firmly but tenderly like a mother holding an angry child.

“If I wanted to kill you, you’d be dead already,” he whispers. Well, he has a point. The slow, steady beating of his heart and his embrace calm my wiggling, and I surrender.

He’s the only human in these Trials that I’d trust. Maybe having someone around is not that bad—

“Look, Talysse, we are surrounded,” Gale says in my ear, so close that his hot breath brushes the strands that escaped my braid. “And you have a decision to make. Trust me now, or go down these stairs into the monster who’s killing everyone who enters. Find out for yourself if he’d let you pass…again. Or leave with me. You have my word that I will not harm you.”

With these words, he releases me, and I stumble backward, my body protesting against the night chill. It’s been a while since a man has held me like this. Gale stands in the square of moonlight, tall and broad-shouldered, his whole posture holding the promise of safety. There’s something else in his gold-sprinkled amber eyes; something flashes and disappears like the back fins of a sea monster briefly rising above the surface and disappearing into the unknown depths.

Atos’s warty backside. I hate choosing the lesser evil.

“Think fast, Talysse.” His voice is hoarse, rushed. The white of his eyes flashes as he looks at the thickening shadows in the ruins beyond the filigree window.

Funny. He’s worried about the Shadowfeeders outside but not about that cold-blooded murderer downstairs, who has just ended someone? For a brief moment, I wonder if he’d be able to stand against the Unseelie Prince. They’re both huge men, roughly at the same height, their bodies honed by years of rigorous training. And there’s something ruthless and rugged about Gale, something elusive, that doesn’t fit the narrative of a Free Cities mage who’s tempted by money and fame. There’s more to this story, and I take a mental note to find out about it.

Tucking loose hairs into my braid, I straighten my doublet and take a deep breath.

“Where is that other way out you mentioned, Gale?”

When fate forces you to make impossible decisions, always go with your gut feeling.

Gale nods and peeks into the moon-silvered ruins outside.

“Atos take them! Shadowfeeders everywhere! They’re coming our way, Talysse,” he hisses.

With swift, silent steps, he disappears into the inky gloom of the stairwell. I summon my timid light back and follow.

We climb fast, leaping over rubble and old bones. Elders, what has happened here? What kind of terror was unleashed upon these people? How did they die?

The flight of stairs ends on a landing identical to the one below. The carved arched door opens up to another empty room, and Gale rushes in. Probably all chambers in the tower are similar, but this one is more damaged by the elements—holes gape in the floor planks, pieces of the outside wall are torn down, and the pinpricks of stars are clearly visible.

“Here, Talysse, I came in from here.” He runs to a gape in the outside wall, overgrown with thick, centennial ivy. It’s large enough for a man to squeeze through. “We climb down from here, Talysse.”

Atos’s warty ass.

I look down, and chills crawl down my spine like angry ants. It’s a nearly forty-feet drop. There are cracks in the masonry and sturdy branches of ivy that could offer some support when climbing down the uneven walls.

But me and heights?

Those are two things that don’t mix well.

My father tried to cure my childhood fear by encouraging me to climb all the trees in our garden. Certain spots in my body still ache when I remember it.

My fingers desperately dig into the masonry as I struggle to steady my breath.

“Are you sure it’s…safe?” I swallow drily, fighting a wave of nausea.

Gale looks at me as if I’ve just lost my mind. “There is no safe here, Talysse. We’re in the Nightfall Trials. There’s no safe here. But let me tell you, it’s far safer than getting anywhere closer to Prince Asshole. You either climb down or run downstairs to that murderer and a pack of Shadowfeeders.” Seeing my throat bob, his tone softens. “It’s easier than it looks, Talysse. The holes and the plants make it as easy as climbing a staircase,” he finishes reassuringly.

I nod, trying to steady the shaking in my limbs. “You go first.” I bargain, still suspicious that there might be some trick and he can push me to my death. Without saying a word, he swings his legs over the edge, grabs the thick ivy branches and starts his descent. He surely makes it look easy.

I watch him for a couple of minutes, but the unnatural silence from downstairs is more frightening than the abyss beyond the wall.

Trying to calm my breath, I get on my knees and slowly straddle the wall. My right foot dangles over the chasm, and my teeth are chattering.

My feet search for support and find it easily in the damaged stonework. Thank the Elders Myrtle gave me soft boots with flexible soles, so finding a purchase is not that difficult. The ivy branches are sturdy, and my fingers are strong enough to hold onto the rocks in the wall.

Gale was right. It’s easier than it looks.

The crack in the wall is becoming a black ulcer in the tower body of the ancient tower. Gale must be further down, as I don’t hear his ragged breathing anymore. It’s just the cool night wind howling through the gaps in the masonry as if those trapped inside have regained their voice.

Don’t look down.

One step after the other.

Don’t look down.

Elders hate it when things are easy for me. A noise from below breaks my concentration. It’s a soft, inhuman, guttural growl, and I react without thinking.

I look down.

And it is all it takes.

The gloom at the feet of the tower is taking monstrous shapes. Gray skin, scales, claws, and feral fangs merge together, forming grotesque figures. I recognize immediately what it is. A Shadowfeeder, right beneath us, its eyes—portals to a dark world full of suffering. Its dagger-sharp claws promise agony, and its teeth—a long death. The temperature around me drops immediately, and I can see the vapor of my breath leaving my lips, just like my calmness leaves my body. More shadows melt, and I realize that the Tainted Ones—the feral thralls of the Shadowfeeders, starved for living flesh, are not far. The last fragments of control over my body shatter. Tainted Ones can climb well.

“Talysse!” Gale hisses from the depths, desperately trying to get to me, but it is too late. “Talysse, let me help—”

Terrified and shaking, my fingers grab the wrong ivy branch. Too thin, too young, too loosely attached to the wall.

With a tiny, terrible noise, it rips off the masonry.

“Talysse—”

I am falling.