Page 19 of Oak & Ember

He would map out the other steps later.

So, for now, Cyrus focused on placing one foot in front of the other and keeping Prue close to him, trying to ignore the odor of blood and death that hung around her, shrouding her like a cloak.

Eventually, a dark, massive shape appeared, looming over Cyrus. He stilled for a moment, unease rippling over him, before pushing forward, trusting that Lagos was leading him toward safety.

And if he wasn’t? Then Cyrus would be joining Prue in the afterlife.

If there even was an afterlife. With the realm in shambles, where did that leave the dying souls? The rivers?

One step at a time, he chastised himself, and he mentally slammed down a wall, blocking out all other concerns and worries.

After a moment, the mist peeled away to reveal the chrome castle. Cyrus’s castle.

Cyrus stopped in his tracks, his mouth falling open, his neck craning as he drank in the sight of his mighty, shimmering silver palace. It gleamed to perfection, the spires spearing upward, not a scratch or scuff marring the glistening surface.

“What—” he breathed, then shook his head. “Impossible.”

Lagos stopped, turning to face him. “Not impossible, with the wards you had us put in place.”

Cyrus swallowed hard, then met Lagos’s grim stare, his thoughts snagging on the word us. Vaguely, Cyrus remembered ordering his subordinates to build this castle, then to ward it against enemies. Specifically, he had been thinking of his brothers trying to take the crown from him by force.

“Lagos,” Cyrus said weakly, knowing words were not enough. Even before Kronos possessed him, he had not been a kind ruler, especially to those lesser than him. But no words in this moment would take that away.

Lagos lifted his chin. “You think we only did it for you? Of course we would ensure only the strongest of wards surrounded this place. Our home. Because if you were attacked, then so were we.”

Cyrus’s mouth became dry. Never once had he considered the welfare of his subjects. Gods, what kind of king was he? Prue would be so disappointed in him.

And she had been disappointed in him. When she’d learned of the secret village created without Cyrus’s knowledge, she had stormed into the throne room to admonish him for abandoning his people.

He might not have left his kingdom to starve and waste away, as she’d accused, but he hadn’t been much better.

“I have… much to atone for,” Cyrus said softly. “You are decent and good, Lagos. I see now what my wife saw in you.”

Cyrus could have sworn the demon’s snout twitched as if he were trying to smile. “It’s a start,” Lagos said, before turning and striding toward the archway that led to the castle entrance.

They crossed the stone bridge, although it felt eerie without the babbling river that ordinarily flowed underneath. Cyrus peered over the edge and saw nothing but darkness. No river. No souls.

The double doors of the entrance hall were already wide open, which felt strange to Cyrus. Then again, what did they have to fear? Everything in this realm was dead. There were no enemies left to keep out.

Unless, of course, Pandora’s magic came back.

Cyrus suppressed a shudder and logged the thought away with the rest of his fears. For now, he had to trust that the dark forces believed this realm to be erased from existence.

A crowd of murmuring demons stood in the entrance hall, their voices hushed and frantic. Every voice quieted at Cyrus’s approach, and a collective gasp rippled over the crowd. A few demons bowed uncertainly. Some glared at him with hostility. Others covered their mouths, staring openly at Prue’s lifeless form.

“I need to get to the lower vaults,” Cyrus muttered to Lagos. If the castle had been preserved, then perhaps what he needed was still down there.

Lagos nodded, weaving through the crowd. Cyrus did the same, though only a few demons had the decency to step aside and let him pass. He felt he should say something—offer comforting words, praise the people for their strength, vow to bring Prue back to lead them justly… But he couldn’t form the words. His energy was spent. His focus was directed on remaining upright and keeping Prue aloft.

He had nothing left to give them.

So, he averted his gaze and followed Lagos, nudging past the demons who refused to step aside.

As soon as they reached the hallway, the voices broke out again, rising in pitch as the demons discussed Cyrus’s dramatic entrance.

But he paid them no heed. They didn’t matter right now. Only Prue did.

But I’ll be different, he vowed. If this works and brings her back, I swear to the gods I’ll be the leader they deserve.

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