Page 81 of From the Myths of Kings

Ever since Rymir’s betrayal, Neia’s eyes hadn’t possessed the same ferocity she was known for. Now, a spark of her old intensity returned, gleaming in her pale eyes like a new star in the cosmos. She needed to fulfill this task just as much as Eleyera needed to be freed, Saoirse realized. She wouldn’t take no for an answer.

“Thank you,” Saoirse whispered. “This means more to me than you know.” She once thought the Terradrin Commander was cold and unfeeling, but she now recognized Neia’s beating heart for justice. At some point in their brief acquaintance, Neia Landum had become a friend. Someone who’d risk their life for a stranger.

Saoirse wrapped her arms tightly around the woman. “Thank you.” Neia stiffened for a moment, but then she returned the embrace, adding an extra affectionate squeeze against her shoulder blades.

Neia let her go and turned toward another tunnel that slithered off into the darkness. “I wish you luck in the Underworld. Do not linger there. Use the Blood Gate only as a means of escape and return to the earth as quickly as you can.”

Hasana grabbed Neia’s wrist before she could dart off down the shadowed passage. “If we can, we should all try and regroup at Raj’s Point as we originally planned. I know it is an improbable, foolish hope that we all survive this and pick up where we left off, but we must at least try. For Noora and Adresin. For Tezrus. For all the lives we must save in the coming war.”

The odds of success were near impossible, but then again, their mission had always balanced on the edge of a blade. As always, Hasana’s unshakable faith was infectious. Saoirse couldn’t help but believe her.

The four of them stared at each other, the gravity of their task feeling exorbitantly heavy in the air. The fact that they could all stand here together, united by the same cause, was an accomplishment in and of itself. Their unlikely alliance proved that strangers could remake the world together. Once, they’d each been bitter rivals and faceless adversaries to conquer. Even just a month ago, Saoirse couldn’t have imagined she’d be fighting to save the world with people hailing from each corner of Revelore. Now, they stood together like some reincarnated version of the Four Kinsmen.

“I’ll meet you at Raj’s Point. May glory be given.” With one last glance over her shoulder, Neia disappeared into the darkness, her bright white hair consumed by shadow.

The three of them located a vein of Bloodstone that threaded through the rock like a trail of hardened lava. The crimson-colored crystals seemed to pulse with life. Just as Tezrus had described, the tract of Bloodstone appeared like a gash in the stone chamber, as though a claw had raked through the side of the wall and left a valley of exposed sinew.

Saoirse’s heartbeat hammered in her throat as she clutched the burning vial in one hand. Even the air felt different in this chamber. Where the rest of the Garden of Gods felt cold and lifeless, the Bloodstone seemed to give off a faint thrumming of heat. Unlike the pristine, fragile crystals that bloomed throughout the other caves like icicles, the crystalline crust of Bloodstone seemed to be melting from one side, as though a glass case had been molded over fire.

She felt Rook’s fingers thread with her other hand, a solid, steadying presence. She took in the bright sapphire of his eyes, a color that had come to mean so much to her. Countless unspoken words swirled in the depths of his eyes, but for the first time in a long time, he was completely open to her. There was no veil of secrecy hanging between them, no guarded wall of pain. They were only at the threshold of building back trust, but his promise to heal alongside her was enough for now. She could sense the change in them both. They’d hurt each other and left scars that ran deep. Forgiveness was a long road that could not be traversed in one night. There were undoubtedly more scars to come, more wounds to endure. But they would weather them together.

Saoirse tore her gaze away from Rook and focused on the vein of Bloodstone. She held out the obsidian vial over the glittering red gems. Selussa’s voice echoed in her head: Now I have a piece of you, and you have a piece of me. We are bound together now.

She uncorked the vial and stared at the shimmering liquid within. Distinct ribbons of ink-like blood swirled around swaths of crimson, refusing to mix like oil and water.

The blood of a dying innocent and the blood of a god.

The vial grew even warmer in her hands, humming with unsettling power as it hovered over the Bloodstone. She looked toward Hasana, a sudden lash of fear curling against her spine. Would it really work? The Tellusun princess nodded encouragingly, her gold-rimmed eyes full of hope.

The fine hairs on Saoirse’s arms raised as she tilted the vial. The liquid poured out in a long, unbroken stream, shimmering faintly. It splashed garishly against the crystals. Almost instantly, tendrils of smoke curled up from where the concoction of blood seeped over the geometrical lattice of crystal.

Saoirse was careful not to pour all the blood out at once, turning the vial right side up and corking the rest. They still needed enough to escape back into the mortal realm. She pocketed the half-drained vial and stepped back as a sulfuric scent filled the small chamber, smoke billowing forth on a phantom breeze. Her heart stuttered when she heard distant footfalls echoing down a nearby tunnel.

“What is that smoke?” a gruff voice asked. The footsteps grew louder as the throng of underguards followed the trail of smoke.

“Hel’s teeth,” Rook cursed. “Where is the Blood Gate?”

A cracking sound reverberated through the chamber in answer, sending tiny tremors rippling through the stone floor. Spiderwebbing cracks appeared throughout the vein of Bloodstone as the walls shuddered. Saoirse grabbed Hasana and Rook’s hands instinctively, linking them together as the cave groaned.

Beyond, the underguards began cursing and shouting, the tread of their footsteps hastening as the Garden of Gods quaked.

The Bloodstone shattered like glass, fragments of stained crystal imploding inward. The thin layer of Bloodstone was gone, framed by smoking tendrils that burned Saoirse’s throat. The surrounding wall of stone had blackened like soot against a hearthstone, replaced by an expanse of shining volcanic rock.

A dark void ripped open before them. Wind suddenly tore through Saoirse’s hair, pulling her toward the gaping cavity. She tightened her hold on Hasana and Rook, a primal terror streaking through every fiber of her body as she peered into the abyss. With the burning vial and the undulating smoke, she’d expected to feel the heat emanating from the Blood Gate. Instead, a cold dread kissed her cheeks like stinging frost.

“Now!” Rook roared over the wind. “We have to go now!” Fear seized Saoirse’s heart, but she felt her body lunging toward the Blood Gate. The three of them passed through the threshold and sank into the darkness.

Numbing silence filled Saoirse’s ears.

They were falling.

Saoirse’s eyes might’ve been open or closed. The darkness was so eternal she couldn’t tell. She looked upward, seeing the Blood Gate grow smaller and smaller until the stone knit itself together, sealing up the tear between realms until they were completely separated from the mortal world. Saoirse gritted her teeth as her stomach hollowed out.

As the void consumed her, Selussa’s last promise echoed through her throbbing skull like a death knell: The worst is yet to come. I will bring forth nightmares from the myths of kings.

Saoirse felt the warmth of her friend’s hands, anchoring her through the all-consuming void. Where they would end up, she didn’t know. All she knew was that this was not the end.

The storm was only just beginning, bolts of lightning crackling along the horizon in warning. Speckles of raindrops fell from the heavens, only intermittently. When the clouds broke, the raging tempest that had been building for centuries would finally be unleashed.

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