Page 155 of The Crimson Walls Of Algorath

He likely remained somewhere in the Keonis Mountains, safe from the sun while Brutis flew closer to transmit the message. With the dragons linked through their natural telepathy, it made communicating over long distances much easier. Unless, of course, they were just too far away from one another, like Azriel and Madan had been from Razer and Brutis during their time in Laeton.

Azriel didn’t need to ask how Madan had gotten away. The battles at the different estates were simple enough to understand. He hadn’t explained everything, however.

“Where are you?” Azriel steadied his breathing, doing his best to match Ariadne’s soft breath as she returned to sleep.

An image was the only reply. Azriel cursed to himself. How the fuck was he going to tell her?

Ariadne stood beside Razer, one hand on his blue-black scales, wishing she could hear the dragon’s thoughts. She shook, unable to control the violent shudders, her heart pounding and stomach clenching. It had taken a long time for Azriel to convince her to come.

“It is the safest place for us right now,” he had said, kneeling before her when she sat on the bed in the hut. He had held her there for a long time after telling her of her father’s passing. His murder by Loren’s hands. It did not soften the blow of where they needed to go next. “He abandoned it months ago. Its defenses are strong, and we need a home.”

All thoughts left her. She knew nothing but the blind terror and depthless sorrow enveloping her soul. The promise she had made to herself a long time ago firmly stated she would never return to those mountains. Never let those walls lock her within them again. Never so much as look upon the stones painted by her blood and that of Darien.

After learning of her father’s death, Ariadne knew she could not return to Valenul safely. Loren had stripped away every facet of home that once resided in Laeton. Only the fear of what lay ahead of her kept the heartbreak from creeping in.

Yet still, she faced the dhemon keep, bracing herself on Razer as though the dragon could provide some semblance of support just by existing by her side. How strange that mere weeks ago, she had not even known of the creature’s existence. Now, she depended on him. Now, she somehow believed he could keep her standing when all she desired was to crumble.

Upon their arrival, Azriel had slipped off Razer’s back and helped Ariadne down. Then he disappeared into the keep with several other dhemons who had accompanied Madan to the location, bloodstained and ragged from fighting in Eastwood. They had agreed to search every floor, every room and closet, to ensure they were alone.

“I’m sorry,” Madan said as he stepped up beside her. “I wouldn’t have asked you to come here if I thought we had another choice.”

Ariadne nodded, unable to speak through the tightness of her throat. Forcing the words around that knot would result in a breakdown that none of them had time for. She would wait until she was alone in one of the many rooms to let herself feel all she needed to. Fear. Misery. Loss. Anger.

“It’s called Auhla,” Madan reminded her, wisely keeping his distance and her focus on the building before them. The sound of his voice—the smoother, low cadence of her guard and brother—eased a bit of tension from her body. It sounded like that of her father. Their father. “And it wasn’t always so terrible.”

Try as she might, she could not bring herself to believe his words. She knew what happened within those walls. Those memories, though subdued over time, never stopped haunting her. Even if most of the physical scars she had carried from them had been erased, there would be no removing those from her soul.

“I grew up here.” Madan kept speaking, kept pulling her back from the brink of her own dark thoughts. “I don’t even remember living in Monsumbra. This was always my home. My father—the Crowe—made it so when he took me in with Azriel.”

Ariadne had never asked him what it had been like, growing up amongst the dhemons with the Crowe as his father-figure. Those were discussions for another night, when he was ready to divulge his life and she could tell him of their father. This one was reserved for building the courage to take that first step.

She wasn’t certain she had it in her.

“I still believe,” he continued, “that with time, this place could become a home again.”

A home. She only saw a keep. A fortress. A prison. She saw the massive stones carved from the cliff around it and repositioned to create the façade of a castle. Shuttered windows marked every one of the six floors, and a massive double door stood at its face, thrown open by the dhemons now stalking its halls. Above and around were alcoves and deep caves, likely used by the dragons, and despite the rolling green field around them, it felt cold.

Heartless.

Ariadne swallowed hard, her throat burning as she considered what it would feel like to walk through those doors again. Nothing Madan could say would make it any better. He had been imprisoned there, same as her. How he could look upon it and think of anything else, she did not know.

It was not until Azriel returned, his blue skin and horns gone, replaced by the tan complexion and those perfect peridot eyes, that Ariadne realized just how much she had worried about him going inside. He slowed to a halt before them, his body just as emaciated as he had been in his dhemon form. Moreso, perhaps. It took on an entirely new strangeness to see the clothes hang off him like too-large hand-me-downs.

Azriel shifted on his feet for a moment before saying, “It’s all clear.”

Glancing between them, Madan gave him a single nod, then started toward the keep. He did not move with urgency. Despite his words, she knew that he, too, hesitated to reenter. To see the same places he had experienced so much.

“Alhija…” Azriel held out a hand to her, eyes pleading. “Please trust me.”

Trust. She had thrown that word in his face the night she left him—the night she discovered it had been he who dragged her through those very doors. She had not trusted him then, but he regained it time and again when he brought her back to life. When Ehrun had returned to take her a second time, it was Azriel who kept her from that fate.

“I’ve chosen a room for you with big windows overlooking the hills.” He dropped his hand, but she caught it and interlaced their fingers. The sigh of relief was loud, his eyes closing as he took in her silent acceptance. “Thank you.”

Ariadne stepped in close, folding herself against his chest so he could wrap his free arm around her. The pressure from the embrace eased the tension building in her chest. She nodded and whispered, “Let us go.”

They took the first step toward the keep together, Razer at their heels. He held her hand firm as though afraid she might turn and run. In all honesty, it was a significant possibility. She was certain Razer would take her somewhere else if she asked. Maybe. Or maybe he would merely circle overhead and return her to the keep at sunrise, forcing her indoors.

As they closed in on the front doors, a silent scream picked up in Ariadne’s mind. Each step became slow, forced, and jerky. A battle of wills. Her heart thundered in her ears, and if Azriel said anything, she did not hear it.

---