Page 72 of Shadow Fall: Part Two

I flared my light higher and sharper in my hand and followed that rasp of movement to a door locked by a series of nasty curses. “Stay back, honey,” I warned my mate. “Further than that. Further. Good.” She scowled at me, fully exasperated, but I wasn’t taking chances.

I pooled magic in my hand and slammed it into the place where I felt the curses concentrate, burning the poison and malice from the heart of it until it was just magic. Sweat beaded at my brow, and I gritted my teeth as the curses fought back, but I blew threw them, one after another, until my shirt was soaked, the magic collapsed, and I registered the warm hand stroking up and down my back.

“Halwen,” I growled.

“Oof,” she whispered. “Not the full name.”

“Over there,” I ordered, pointing a safe distance away. “Now.”

Her eyes turned sultry, a slow smile curving her lips. Now was really not the time to be getting turned on, but one look at her and I was hard. I waited until she backed up—and stayed there this time—before I pushed the heavy door open, covering my mouth at the stink that burst from the room.

I retched, but forced myself forward a step—and slammed to a stop when I realised what I was seeing. Who I was seeing.

There was a mess of rages and shredded skin on the ground, laying in his own filth. It was the dark skin and shorn hair that tipped me off, but that was the only recognisable thing about Andryas Revairs. He was broken, no limb left without a bone snapped in two, and he looked pitiful splayed on the ground, bleeding from a dozen wounds.

“No one worth saving,” I said to Haley, leaving the room. I pulled it halfway shut so she didn’t see the filth inside but left it cracked open. It was the only mercy I’d give him, a strange balance of leaving him for dead for everything he’d done to Wane and giving him the chance to save himself because I understood him. He’d tried to fight Cronus and failed. He was the titan’s prized pet before Wane, and Andryas was truly immortal—his torture had lasted so long I couldn’t predict how awful it had been.

A better man would probably haul him out of there, but I wasn’t good and kind. I was ruthless and cruel when needed, and generous when it had been earned.

“We’re close,” I told Haley, sweeping her back into my side, my arm around her. “Another few minutes and we should be there.”

Her throat bobbed; she leaned into me. “I’ve only seen this place in a vision, when Busty showed me what happened to Wane.”

“We won’t be here long. And you can wait outside if—”

“No,” she interrupted, her voice hard. “I need to do this.”

I nodded, and we fell into a nervous silence, the weight of all the violence that had happened here pressing on us. Haley sucked in a breath when the door at the end came into view; I kept my hand on her back, unwilling to part from her, and then we were inside the hellish throne room that haunted my nightmares.

I swallowed back fear, all the hairs standing on end. “I was born here,” I murmured, staring at the cavernous space, the horrific throne on its dais where Cronus would sit and command the most unspeakable acts as if they were nothing.

Haley froze, like she’d forgotten. “You can wait outside if you need.”

“Fuck no,” I said, forcing the words past my tight throat. “I’m not leaving you here.”

With Haley close to my side, I approached the throne, swallowing back my terror, ignoring the ghost of pain on my thighs, and lifted my head to look at the wings displayed there, like a butterfly pinned to a board.

“How do we get them down?” Haley asked, her voice small and pained.

“Let me handle that, honey,” I murmured, kissing the top of her head and leaving her at the foot of the dais while I climbed it.

“Wyn, whose—whose are the other wings?”

There were three pinned to the wall, all three bugs in amber, relics of his brutality—trophies. “His favourite pets,” I answered. “Wane’s, Andryas’s, and Kithain’s.”

I felt her surprise, her horror. “The bastard who cut Wane’s wings…”

“Had his own wings cut by Cronus’s first pet,” I confirmed, climbing up onto the throne and ignoring the oily sickness lining my stomach. “Kithain was the first, long before my time. I only know him by name. The golden wings are his. The red are Andryas’s. And you know the black wings.”

Her pain hit my soul, and I wanted to pull her into my arms. But I climbed up onto the chair arm and used a thread of moonlight to dissolve the nails holding them to the wall, my arms outstretched to catch them when they fell. The weight of them was hideous, a reminder of everything that Wane had suffered.

This is a happy ending, I reminded myself. Cronus is dead, Wane is safe, we’re all free of his reach.

Haley got out the blanket she’d brought from her bag, and we wrapped the wings when I climbed down from the throne, Haley lovingly straightening feathers that stuck out at odd angles.

Wane didn’t know we’d come here—he’d go apeshit, no doubt—but it was the right thing to do. Even if he didn’t want them back, at least a part of him wasn’t rotting here, in a seat of power that would always be tainted by Cronus.

Haley held them close to her chest, blinking back tears as if a dozen hadn’t already slipped free. I stepped close to brush them off her cheeks and kissed her, a soft, reassuring brush.

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