Page 22 of Bright Blinding Ruin

Relieved, excited, and maybe even a bit hopeful.

After following the winding pathway that zigzags through the mountains like a switchback trail, I make it to the doors built into the outer wall of the city. I lean my head back and gaze up at the wall that must be at least three to four stories tall, and I can’t help but wonder what it was like before Invictis came and fucked everything up.

All because some people found him, put him together again, and ordered him to destroy Laconia, thanks to some old war.

I mean, sure, I haven’t spoken to many beyond the council and Frederick—and they do have more pressing matters to worry about, like these damn woes—but I do wonder just how far back that war was.

The doors are closed, and without magic it’s the opposite of easy for me to get through them. Let’s just say it takes a lot of body-slamming for the door on the right to budge, and when it does I’m only able to open it enough to slip in.

The sun hot above my head, the city surrounding the castle brings me a sense ofdéjàvu. It feels as though I was just here, on a mission to hurt Gladus for what her so-called soldiers did to Laconia. Tit for tat. I wanted to hurt her because her magic had hurt Prim.

And in the end, her magic killed Prim.

The castle in Pylos is more than four times as tall as anything else; I can pretty much see it no matter where I am, so I use it as a guide since I can’t fling myself to rooftops and parkour like I did before. I follow the empty streets, make a few wrong-turns where I wind up in a dead-end street and have to turn back and try again.

It’s strange, being here again, knowing more of the history. The silence of the city used to unnerve me, but now I know what to expect, so it doesn’t bother me as much. I guess I got used to being the only person around.

It takes me a long time, but I finally make it to the colosseum that sits just before the stone bridge—AKA the only way to reach the castle. When I see the mounds of charred bones, the piles of people that were not so lucky, I’m not shocked or surprised, not like the first time. I do still feel bad for them, though. An end like that… it’s not something anyone deserves.

Walking around the outer ring of the colosseum, I do my best to avoid stepping on any of the bones. I make it to the land bridge and start walking across it. If I say my anxiety isn’t through the roof as I approach Pylos’s grand castle, I’d be the worst kind of liar. Truth is, I don’t know what to expect.

I don’t know where the undercroft is or what kind of guardian I’ll face. Fred was certain it’ll recognize me and let me in, but what if it doesn’t? There’s no way to know for sure. And that only comes into play if I can find the damn thing; I can assume the door is somewhere on the lowest floor of the castle. It is called the undercroft, and that means it has to be below everything, right?

The wind picks up when I’m about halfway across the stone bridge, and as I push forward, I glance up at the castle’s spire-like towers. The tallest was where I fought Gladus. It had no ceiling and hardly any walls, so she could summon storms and bring forth lightning freely.

I remember the fight like it was yesterday. How enraged she sounded, how hateful. Now that I know the truth, it makes me think: just how much of that hatred and rage belonged to Invictis? How badly was Empress Gladus twisted from her true self?

And why the hell didn’t I react the same with Invictis?

I reach the castle doors and push inside, and the moment they swing shut, the sound of the whipping wind stops.

Time to get searching.

The lowest floor of the castle is a library. Its ceiling is much higher than the library in Laconia. If I have to guess, I’d say this castle holds double, if not triple the amount of books. There’s no telling how much history Laconians have forgotten. It’s a sad thing. If we can’t learn from our own history, then aren’t we doomed to repeat it? I think that’s what some people say, and looking around at the state of this kingdom, with Invictis hiding in the shadows while he regains his true strength, it rings true.

I search the library, going through the tall stacks one by one. The whole place is like a maze; so many tall bookcases, I’m in awe they’re all so full and none of them have fallen over.

I bet Frederick and his dad would love to spend time here, get lost in these books for weeks. Or, more likely, years with how many there are in here.

I can’t say how much time passes, how long I’m there, searching through the library that’s more like a labyrinth, when I hear a sound that cuts through the silence of the place. A sound that I recognize, but it’s so random that I have to stop and wonder if my mind made it up.

Was that… ameow?

I leave the row of bookcases I’m in and step out into one of the main walkways of the library, and when I do, I spot a cat sitting about ten feet away, to my left. A beautiful bluish-gray cat with unnatural silver eyes. Besides the eyes, nothing looks uncanny about it, but still, it might be infected with the blight, so I need to be careful.

Slowly, I approach the cat, studying it as I step forward. No bones peeking out, no crazed look in its eyes; it’s literally just a cat. A cat with a gorgeous coat and strikingly unusualeyes. It watches me while I watch it, though its serious gaze is interrupted by a yawn, and it flashes me its sharp, intact teeth.

Holy shit. It really is a cat.

I drop to my knees once I’m two feet away and extend a hand. “Hey, there,” I say in my best cat voice. People who don’t have cats or don’t like cats just wouldn’t get it. “Aren’t you the cutest little thing? Where’d you come from?”

The cat meows at me, a short little chirping sound—AKA the most adorable sound I’ve heard in my freaking life. It stands, stretches its little legs, and closes the distance between us so it can sniff my finger.

“Do you approve?” I ask it.

The cat responds by lowering its head and shoving its forehead against the tip of my finger as it starts to purr.

Oh, God. I forgot how much I love cats.

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