Page 85

“ENTER THE ABYSS, IF YOU DARE.

REMEMBER… NOT ONE FAULTY MOVE,

OR YOUR SOUL WON’T BE SPARED.

THE BEASTS ARE HUNGRY, READY TO DEVOUR,

THE VERY THING THAT IN YOUR HEART SOURS.

ENTER IF YOU WISH, BUT A WARNING YOU MUST HEED:

BE WARY OF WHICH YOU SEEK,

FOR IN ORDER TO OBTAIN POWER,

YOU FIRST MUST BLEED.”

“That’s rather ominous, don’t you think?” Laisren retorts. He backs away from the sign posted at the edge of the vast monstrosity.

Riordan whistles, leaning over the deep pit. “Do you know what’s down there, mate?” he asks.

Screeches and howls echo from the chasm below.

A chill crawls over my spine, knowing that something more sinister than the Drakhul lurks beneath.

A staircase, built from the earth, descends into the madness and is lit by the glowing lights of blood-red flames within floating lanterns—no doubt spelled to remain ignited for when the king comes calling.

Disgust curdles my insides as I back away from the entrance. When we return to Malvoria, I plan to find a way to punish my “beloved” father for sending Maeva to this horrific place. At least he had the good sense to send us along with her, otherwise she wouldn’t have made it this far.

“The only creature I’ve met is the Basilisk,” I reply. “However, I’ve heard whispered lore about spiders the size of small palaces, sightless creatures that feed on your fears, and monsters that would put your worst nightmares to shame.”

Maeva swallows thickly. “How lovely,” she stammers.

“As a child, I heard rumors of an immortal being that’s said to be the father of all evil lurking here, but Siorai locked him away in the deepest section of the Abyss in order to prevent his wickedness from corrupting all of Celestae,” Laisren says.

My stomach churns.

I pray that the worst thing we encounter is the Basilisk—not the iniquitous thing that whispered to my father all those years ago.

Maeva kicks a small stone over the side of the chasm. “Do you think that whatever created the Drakhul is down there?” she asks.

“Perhaps, but I’d rather not find out,” I reply. “We stay together, find the Crógemma, and high-tail it back to Malvoria.”

Everyone nods, except for Maeva, who’s lost in her own thoughts.

“Maeva?” I ask. Startled, she meets my gaze. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

She shuffles her feet, opening and closing her mouth—unsure whether to voice what’s weighing on her mind. After a few moments, she forces a smile and replies, “Of course.”

I narrow my eyes. Her cheeks flush as she walks toward the staircase etched into the side of the Abyss. There’s something that she isn’t saying. I see it in her rigid body language, the way she won’t meet my gaze for more than a moment, or even speak to me beyond small pleasantries.

Perhaps you made her uncomfortable this morning by kissing her and then closing yourself off, you dimwit, I remind myself.

Her declaration has played on repeat in my mind, as well as her disappointment when I recoiled into the stoic mask.

I want to take it back, but how can I when I feel like there are eyes and ears watching us at every turn?

Her life with me would be complicated, and once she finally finds a way to retain her memories, she’ll need someone that’s less complex.

Someone who’s less tormented by visions of what once was.

I love her with every fiber of my being… and true love isn’t selfish.

Truly loving her means that after this ends, I’ll let her go.

“Bloody Celestae,” Maeva says, slipping on yet another one of the slimy steps of the pit.

The light above faded some time ago. Now only the glow of the red flames gives us any sense of our surroundings. The further we descend, the damper the atmosphere becomes, while the stairs grow slicker. Is this also meant to be a part of their trap in order to steal souls from Eternity?

If so, I’m not certain of how anyone could survive beyond these wretched stairs.

Riordan gags, pinching his nose. “What’s that ghastly aroma?” he chokes out. “I think the battlefields smell better than this lot.”

“Most likely the rotting creatures themselves,” Laisren answers. “They’ve been supernaturally locked down here for Celestae knows how long. Legend states that Siorai made it impossible for them to be freed from this pit.”

“That’s probably for the best,” Maeva gags.

After another two flights of stairs, we come to a large landing made from some kind of thick white material.

As I walk along the platform, a sticky substance clings to my feet.

I lean down to examine further when Maeva waves a hand toward a darkened cavern in the wall.

“No one said anything about strange doors,” she mutters.

Looming over us is a door of twisted iron with a series of eight peculiar locks.

Each one is spaced evenly from the other in a circular arrangement.

Hesitantly, we cross over to it. The door is four times the height of myself or the others.

I tug on the thick iron bars, but it doesn’t budge.

Then, my mouth is filling with excess alive as a pounding in my head intensifies.

I believe my heart has jumped into my throat when I hear an unknown language whispered beyond the barricade in a rhythmic chant.

I jerk my hands away from the bars, and the voices stop, as do the feelings of despair.

Feeling three shades paler, I back away from the gateway and the evil that lurks beyond.

“How are we supposed to open it?” Maeva asks. She runs her fingers along the lower frame of the door, brows furrowed in concentration. I remove her hand before she touches the iron bars.

“It’s enchanted somehow,” I reply. “It needs something to open it—a certain ability, perhaps. I’m not sure, but I know it’s warded for a reason. I heard things whispering behind it.”

Slowly, she releases my hand, looking at her palm and then the door.

“Do you think it needs blood?” she asks.

While this is a logical assessment, her blood is of the rarest purity. What if offering it to the door only allows the monsters within to be unleashed? What if it backfires and morphs her into one of them—trapping her soul here forever?

I can’t risk it.

I can’t risk her .

“Absolutely not,” I growl. “You aren’t going to give it anything until we figure out what it nee?—”

The hairs on the back of my neck prickle as I sense something climbing up the walls, toward the landing. A faint tapping sound echoes. Then it stops. My shadows pool within my hands, and my heart rate climbs.

Maeva comes up beside me. “Emyr?”

“Shh,” I whisper. “Do you hear that?”

The group stills, listening for one beat… then two …

Then, the tapping continues, only this time, it’s much closer as the landing quakes beneath us.

Laisren and Riordan curse under their breaths while Maeva creates small orbs of starlight in her palms. “You shouldn’t use your power here,” I chastise her.

A feral snarl passes through her lips. “I’m the one retrieving the gem—not you, High General. I’m the one prophesied to awaken the Na Fíréin— not you, ” she barks out. “I’ve heeded your advice this entire journey. Look at what it cost us when I didn’t summon my ability”

I’m too stunned to speak. This version of Maeva reminds me less of the woman I found in Aurelius.

“Think about it,” she continues. “The only time anything has gone well is when I’ve used it, while the others have ended in tragedy. This is my gift, and I won’t waste it to preserve your pride. My starlight is speaking to me, and this time I won’t refuse its summons.”

I want to argue with her because she’s being reckless, but deep down, I know she’s right. Even if I’m not ready for this, she is, and something about that kills me. I’ll never truly be the one to protect her.

“What in all Celestae?” Riordan curses.

I turn my head just in time to see a long, black limb hook over the side of the landing—followed by another… and another. The furry limbs continue climbing until there are eight in total. My blood runs cold. The door wasn’t enchanted to accept blood, but something else entirely…

One of its creatures.

Eight limbs for eight locks, which means it can only be one thing.

“What… is… that?” Laisren gasps.

I don’t answer as the body of an enormous arachnid emerges from its hiding place. Maeva shrieks, backing away from the creature, whose large eyes are trained on our every movement. Its pinchers alone are double our size. The body alone is at least the size of half the palace in Zulgalros.

Horrific is an understatement .

The arachnid breathes deeply. “Chosen Daughter,” the spider hisses. “You’ve come at last, and I see you’ve brought friends. Unfortunately there’s two too many.”

The spider clicks its pincers excitedly.

Excited for what exactly is undetermined.

Maeva’s starlight intensifies as she snarls at the creature. “Yes, I have,” she replies, “but I’m afraid none of them are here for you.”

“Your starlight scares me not, child. I’m eons older than you, and I shall continue to live for millennia even after you’ve breathed your last,” the spider retorts. “Either way, I mean no harm to you or your friends, as long as you comply.”

“Comply with what exactly?” she bites out.

“What is it you seek behind the door, Chosen Daughter?” it asks.

Laisren scoffs, stepping forward. “How’s that any concern of yours?” he sneers.

The spider points one of its long, spindly legs at the locks, clicking intensely.

“I’m the guardian of the world below. No one enters without my blessing, nor can anyone open the door without also needing me,” it responds.

“In order to enter, you must answer truthfully. If I believe your words to be acceptable, I’ll grant you entry. ”

“And if they’re not?” I ask. “Hasn’t anyone tried to enter just for curiosity’s sake?”

“Indeed, but I’m far more clever. Let’s just say those that attempted to possess the father of the Abyss’s power for themselves succumbed to mania and never left,” the spider laughs.

Then, the arachnid focuses solely on Maeva.

“How delighted he’ll be if your stay becomes permanent.

Power unfathomable given to such a pathetic host.”

“Perhaps,” Maeva retorts, “but I was chosen by Siorai, so I mustn’t be as worthless as you believe me to be.”

The spider tsks. “Careful, Chosen Daughter. I would slay you where you stand if it weren’t for the king’s need of you. Your blood is an abomination here, but I’ll bide my time… for now. So I’d be cautious with that tongue of yours,” it snaps .

Maeva grimaces, offering an apologetic look as she bows before the abhorrent creature. “Forgive my arrogance,” she deadpans.

The spider scoffs, having lost all patience. “Forgiveness is for weaklings,” the spider jeers. “This is the last time I’ll ask you, Chosen Daughter. What do you seek in the Abyss?”

“Maeva, don’t?—”

“The Crógemma,” Maeva replies truthfully. “I’m the only one that can access it.”

“You’ve assumed correctly,” the spider replies.

Then, the monster turns to the entry door.

In comparison to the arachnid’s large form, the door is minuscule, dwarfed in the creature’s shadow.

One by one, the spider inserts each leg into the slotted locks until an audible click reverberates in the cavern.

Within moments, the ancient door swings open, and the strange language rings loudly through the pit.

The sound is unsettling, as the chanting grows in enthusiasm.

Slowly, Maeva walks into the open space that reveals yet another descending staircase lit by the red flamed candles. “What are they singing?” Maeva wonders aloud.

“Only where darkness falls shall it rise. The wicked shall reign, while the righteous falls. The light shall wain when death finally calls. What a day it’ll be where the darkness falls,” the spider recites, perching above the door. “Quite a befitting tune, wouldn’t you agree?”

My shadows curl around me as I follow behind Maeva. “Quite,” I lie.

Along the dark stone path are cavernous spaces with obsidian iron bars, sealing the putrid creatures within. As the voices carry their chant, hands reach between the slats, begging for release. “Holy Celes?—”

I jump at the resounding thud of the entry door behind us. One by one the locks click back into place, neither Laisren nor Riordan are with us.

“Where’d they go?” I ask.

“I-I don’t know,” Maeva murmurs.

She runs to the door, pounding on it as hard as she can.

The magical veil that once kept us from seeing beyond the door peels back, bringing us level with the enormous eyes of the arachnid.

“I forgot to mention one tiny detail,” the spider sneers.

“Only two of you can enter. The others must stay with me.”

My jaw clenches. “Two too many… you’ve brought two too many,” I repeat.

“Indeed. Now they must remain with me until your return,” it says. Moving away from the door, the setting reveals Laisren and Riordan bound against the cavernous wall in thick webbing. We scream for them, but they don’t answer as their bodies are in a catatonic state.

“If you harm them,” I growl.

“Relax, Prince,” the spider scolds. “They’ll be fine, as long as you return before the flames die out. Once they dim, I can’t promise they’ll survive, or that you will, once the beasts are released for the night.”

“I thought they couldn’t leave the Abyss?” Maeva growls.

“You’re correct, but that doesn’t mean they can’t roam below ground,” it clicks. “The false god you follow allows my brothers and sisters to be free only when the lights dim, or when the Galrosan king unlocks their shackles. He’s the one kindness in our exile.”

Maeva kicks the door, running a hand through her hair. She’s quiet for several seconds, recollecting her composure. “Where do I find the Crógemma?” she sighs.

“Stupid Malvorian. You’ve already been given the key. Now you must look within for the answer that you seek.” The spider tsks. “Tick tock. Time moves faster here, and I’m famished .”

Then, the veil seals over the door once more, barring us in with the devilish beasts below.