Page 162 of Soul Forge

Elda lunged and swiped her dagger upwards, the tip grazing Cynthia’s cheek, and for a moment, the princess was empowered. She was still alive, and she’d drawn blood without help from anyone else.

Her pride was short-lived. Cynthia’s whip took her legs from beneath her, and then her weight pinned Elda, her fist cracking across the elf’s face over and over again. Blood bubbled in Elda’s mouth, dribbling over her lips and pouring from her nose. The witch stood and stomped on her stomach, forcing Elda to cough and curl up.

And then Cynthia’s fist tangled in her blonde hair, yanking her up to her knees, Lazarus just millimetres from her jugular.

Vel snarled and ripped the mace out of Abraxos’ hand, shadows erupting from him to flatten Abraxos and Arden. He slammed the hilt of the mace against Abraxos’ temple and levelled a solid kick at Arden’s head. The demon soul had beaten them, but he was suffering. There were burns on his arms, scorch marks in his wings, and lacerations coating his torso where his armour had disintegrated, leaving him with nothing more than his thin tunic to protect him. He was bruised and bleeding, and one hand was pressed to his chest where his overuse of magic burned him.

Tears welled in Elda’s eyes when he swayed on his feet and found her at Cynthia’s mercy. He sank to his knees.

“Play nice, demon,” Cynthia lilted, smiling serenely. “One wrong move and she loses her pretty little head.” His sword waslost somewhere in the sand, his body battered, and his wings were lopsided and trembling. He raised his shaking hands in surrender.

“Don’t kill her,” he pleaded softly, utterly exhausted.

“Kill her? Oh, I have amuchbetter idea.” Cynthia grinned. The other two Corrupted got slowly to their feet and joined her. Abraxos positioned himself on Elda’s other side with a scowl.

“We don’t want either of you dead,” he explained, though his tone said otherwise. “Things would be much easier for us if both of you cooperated.”

“But wecanget what we want without your princess if we have to,” the witch purred, inspecting her nails with her free hand. Lazarus wavered at Elda’s throat, the poisoned metal coming dangerously close to touching her skin.

Elda’s whole body trembled, her throat tight with tears. Dizziness from her head wounds clouded her vision, and she looked at Vel kneeling while they taunted him, knowing it was her fault.

“What do you want?” the demon asked tightly.

“I want you both to behave,” Abraxos drawled, unhooking two pairs of shackles from his belt and holding them out. Vel scowled and held his wrists out obediently. Elda had seen similar shackles on the belts of Eden’s guards, etched with symbols designed to bind all types of magic. These ones were heavier, older, and no doubt far more powerful.

“Nowstay,” Cynthia commanded.

Vel gritted his teeth when Abraxos snapped them around his wrist, and all at once, his magic was cut off. A similar pair was placed on Elda’s wrists, and the connection to Irileth dulled to nothing in a second. The metal bit into her skin, colder than ice despite the scorching sun.

Something heavy hit the back of her skull, and the world went dark.

Consciousness returned slowly, a wave of pain following close behind. Elda’s head felt heavy, the base of her skull throbbing where she’d been struck. Her hair was sticky with the blood that coated the back of her neck. Her armour was gone, Irileth nowhere to be seen, and damp had soaked through her thin tunic, chilling her down to her bones.

Her cell was small and dark, with one window showing nothing but fire beyond. She frowned, struggling to her knees to get a better look. She recognised the sky from the dream she’d had about the strange stone she’d seen in the journal from Artan’s library. It was crimson, permanently tainted by the fires of the land below. The clouds were thick and acrid, filled with ash that rained down in a macabre snow and roiling over and under one another in constant motion. There was no sun or moon visible, no stars, no indication at all of whether it was day or night. Just that endless, bloody red.

She groaned quietly when her bruises throbbed, several ribs obviously cracked. Every breath wheezed from her lungs, but shepushed herself up awkwardly and got as close to the window as her chains would allow.

She was in Darkhold.

Panic rose up her throat when her eyes fell on the ground surrounding what appeared to be an ancient castle. It was teeming with demons of every shape and size, each one more disgusting than the last. They writhed under and over one another, crawling across the ground like an infestation. Molten rivers bisected huge swathes of rocky wasteland, their contents glowing and bubbling in hues of crimson and orange, and more demons bobbed in and out of them.

She struggled against her shackles, yanking on them until her wrists bled. She tried to call to Sypher, to Vel, to Irileth, to the strange magic she’d experienced in Rift, but the answer was silence. Echoing, empty, endless silence. She was alone, trapped, and useless.

Sliding down the damp wall, she dropped her head into her hands and sucked in several deep breaths. Lillian had abandoned them to save herself. They’d raced across the continent to save her, and she thanked them by deserting them when they needed her most.

But Elda’s friends had never made it to Rift. There was still hope if the people she cared about were safe.

But the person she loved mostwasn’tsafe. He was somewhere in Darkhold too, held by the Corrupted and at their mercy. He’d do anything to keep her safe, and that made him weak. It made him vulnerable. If she’d been stronger, trained harder, maybe she could have done more than fire a few arrows from a distance. Would she have beaten Cynthia? Saved her friends?

“Some wielder I am,” she muttered to herself, tears welling up in her eyes. She blinked them away, scrubbing the back of her hand across her face and gritting her teeth. She couldn’t just sit there and sob. She went back to pulling at her shackles, tryingto use the blood her struggles drew to slip her slender hands through the manacles, but they were too tight.

She was busy trying to find a weakness in the wall bracket when a door opened close by, and a cheerful whistle echoed off the wet stone. She moved as far away from the cell door as her bindings would allow, bracing herself for an attack.

“Princess,” Abraxos sang, letting the door swing open. “It’s time to meet your new lord, my dear.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you.”

He nodded, dark hair falling into his eyes. “I thought you might say that. Let me try and persuade you.” He sauntered over to her, leaning in until he was uncomfortably close. “Come with me, or I’ll tell Cynthia you resisted, and your little demon will pay for your bad behaviour.” Elda’s eyes widened, her stomach lurching when she remembered they weren’t afraid to torture him. She dropped her gaze and nodded. “I thought that might interest you.” He unfastened the chain from the wall and yanked on it, dragging her behind him like an animal.

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