Page 85 of Twisted Bonds

I see Mira out of the corner of my eye, her hazel eyes wide with worry. She’s clutching her own small blade, knuckles white around the hilt. She looks terrified. Her eyes flicker to mine, as if seeking assurance.

“Stay back,” I growl, but I catch a flicker of anger on her face at the command.

I should have known better. Mira is no damsel to be shielded. Stepping forward with a determined set to her jaw, she retorts, “Like hell I will.”

She lunges at a guard who’s just disengaged from Bobble. In the periphery of the chaos, a loud clang of metal stomps down each tunnel, so loud I don’t know which direction it's coming from. I can barely pay attention to the sword in front of me, trying to find the source of the new threat.

My heart sinks as realization hits: we’re surrounded. An army emerges from the shadows, filling every crevice of the large tunnel. The rusty tang of sweat and blood fills my nostrils, mixing with the sudden fear pulsating through our mate bond.

“Drop your weapons!” a guard orders, and I know what we must do.

“Yield!” I scream out, dropping my sword and raising my hands as high as my wounded shoulder will allow, the pain almost enough to make me black out. Hot blood rushes down my chest and arm. “Yield, damn it!”

As the skirmish ceases, I take a quick stock of injuries. Mine seems to be the only one, though. Thank the Gods. A quick succession of Dampening Shields fall around each of us from somewhere in the back of the army.

As an officer steps forward, his eyes immediately lock on me as the leader of this band of intruders. I hold his eye contact and take one step forward, placing myself just in front of the others. “I demand to speak to my brother, King Cor’than.”

A few chuckles echo in the now lit tunnels. Shiny metal armor gleams against the uneven light. Others exchange nervous glances. Most, however, are well trained and don’t react at all to the ramblings of a crazy common fae like me.

The officer’s eyes narrow as he takes me in from head to toe. Bloodied and panting breaths, I try to keep the pain from lacing my voice with desperation as I announce to the room, “I was once called Dan’thiel before my soul was shattered into fragments. Surely this news was spread at the time? Now I call myself Sunder, the First Shard of Dan’thiel’s soul. And I demand to speak to the usurper.”

I can feel Mira’s lips pinch into a grimace, her disapproval palpable even as she stands behind me. But I ignore it. My words pour out with a fierce honesty that cannot be tamed. It’s the truth, raw and unfiltered, even if it’s not what they want to hear or believe. Their king stole that crown through unscrupulous means.

The officer doesn’t flinch at my bravado. Instead, he nods his head as if it were a simple request. The army clears a path as we walk through them, a few falling into step around us lest we be mistaken for anything more than prisoners.

I glance at Mira and Bobble, seeing determination mirrored in their expressions. With a resigned sigh, I nod my agreement, and we allow ourselves to be led deeper into the tunnels until we climb a set of spiral stairs that open into a servant hallway. Each step is agony in my shoulder, but I refuse to cradle the arm.

The guards march us through a series of opulent corridors, our footsteps echoing off the marble floors and intricately carved walls. I can’t help but marvel at the grand staircases, towering columns, and ornate chandeliers that seem to drip with crystals.

It’s exactly as I remember it, yet it feels completely different.

Memories flash at each turn. Chasing Eyveriel up those stairs, I fell and hit my knee against the sharp corner, leaving behind a permanent scar. Cor’than’s favorite library as boy where he could be found hiding behind huge stacks of books.

Eventually, we’re taken to the Great Hall, a receiving room for petitioners or minor nobles. A fire roars to life in the huge stone hearth beside the small throne set upon a subtle dais. I eye the tapestries on the wall, memories from a happy childhood emerge.

Eyveriel.

She loved the one depicting the wild horses racing across the plains of Valenfall.

A sudden hush falls over the guards as heavy footsteps approach. I tense, every muscle in my body coiled like a spring. The doors at the end of the room swing open, an imposing figure looms in the darkened doorway before stepping into the light.

Cor’than, framed by the soft glow of firelight, comes into view. The thin crown of our father resting atop his groomed black hair gives my stomach a lurch. His beard is cropped short, thin lips pursed as he eyes us.

The sight of him ignites an inferno within me, my blood boiling and frothing with rage. The memories of all the innocent lives he snuffed out flood my mind like a raging river, each one a sharp knife twisting in my gut.

He strides toward us, his authoritative presence commanding attention. Clad in dark, richly embroidered robes, he exudes power and control. His sharp eyes assess us in an instant, lingering on Mira and me with an unnerving intensity.

“Your Majesty,” the officer says, bowing low and presenting him with a parchment that I crane my neck to see. It’s the wanted poster bearing Mira’s and my likeness for killing those Keepers of the Portal when we first arrived in Illuemera. “These intruders were found within the castle tunnels. They made some bold claims.”

Cor’than studies the poster, then narrows his eyes at us. “Explain.”

As I take a deep breath, the heavy weight of responsibility presses down on me. I know why we are here and what is at stake. My gaze shifts to Mira, who is anxiously waiting for my next move. The anger inside me threatens to burst forth, but I can’t let her see that weakness. I have to remain calm, for her sake and the others’. But every civil word that comes out of my mouth is like a betrayal to myself and those he slaughtered in his quest for power.

“King Cor’than,” I say through gritted teeth. “I am Sunder, the First Shard of your brother Dan’thiel’s soul. Bobble, the Third and Callum the Fourth.” I gesture to each of them in turn. His eyes betray nothing as he follows my introductions. Silently listening, assessing. Bastard always was too calculating. “We’ve come with information that threatens the safety of Valenfall.”

“And you’ve brought a human with you to tell me this?”

The skepticism in his voice is practically mocking us. I can’t tell if he believes us or not. I wish I could use my Chroma to detect his emotions, if he has any.

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