Page 87 of Bound By Darkness

And another.

And another.

After the tenth book, my eyes blurred from peering at scribbles in the dimming light. I wasn’t sure exactly how long I’d been down here, but as pain radiated up my spine from being hunched over, I knew it had to have been awhile. How did Fin sit in his chair and read like this all day?

Stretching my body like a feral cat, I huffed as I slapped another book in front of the light, my fingers coated in a layer of filth. It felt like I was back at Fin’s, dust coating my lungs and nose.

Turning the page, my eyes widened at the inscriptions pressed into the worn fabric. The Old Fae language.

Finally.

This book was illegal. More illegal than a half-breed hiding from the King.

Adjusting the oil lamp, it brightened the glyphs scribbled onto the page, as well as various illustrations. They were stunning and highly detailed, showcasing years of Fae history.

Flipping through the pages, my hand paused as I scanned the page. My eyes stopped on a shadowy figure hurriedly scribbled between glyphs.

My blood chilled.

The figure was holding a blood stone.

Unmistakable, the stone seemed to pulse in its hand as if it were made for it. Chills raced up my arms as I stared at the figure, at the words etched next to it.

Why did this Fae god have one? Was this… was this the origin of shadow casting? Was this theFae god who’d died to relinquish this power? And what of the blood stone? Is that why the witch said the fae gods chose it for me?

Light flickered.

The flame was dying and I’d finally found the answers I needed. If this was a cruel joke from the gods, I wanted to spit in their faces. “Please forgive me,” I muttered as I ripped the image of the figure, along with a few other pages I’d found with the same name scribbled in the common tongue.

Arawanee—the Fae god of shadows.

Stuffing the pages into my pockets, I picked up the oil lamp as I headed toward the back. This was my only chance at an exit, and as the wind whipped my hair again, I walked.

The tunnel was narrow as I kept a steady pace, my feet brushing over crumbling rock. The light was flickering every few seconds, and I did not want to be stuck down here without a flame.

Lifting the oil lamp, I nearly cried as it illuminated a rusted door. It was similar to the one that had shut me in. Hope grew like a seed as I headed for the rusted metal. My feet kicked up speed as the flame flickered?—

It dissipated, leaving me enveloped in darkness. The same type as that cell I’d rotted in for eleven years.

“I’m not in my cell. I’m not in my cell,” I whispered as I walked forward, feeling for the rusted handle. “You got out. The door?—”

My eyes continued to blink in the darkness as if light would return. My hand shifted lower, a small sound leaving my lips as I gripped metal.

I yanked it to the ground below as roaring filled my ears.

The door groaned as night kissed my skin. Stepping out from the tunnel, glistening cave walls met me as I followed its stone forward. Walking until grass kissed the soles of my boots, I stared up at the sky—at the starlit night covering Laias.

Standing at the gate, I tugged the sleeves of my shirt down, the breeze filling the air with a salty tang.

He wasn’t here.

I wouldn’t be surprised if he’d come and gone. I’d arrived well past sunset, the stars a constant reminder of how late I’d shown and yet, I stood here waiting for him. My teeth bit into the skin of my fingertips as my heart raced at the thought of seeing him.

A few sprites danced in the background, their effervescent color stark around the wilting leaves. Soon fall would be in full effect, bringing chill into the air.

The sea breeze clung around me, maintaining the ice on my arms as I tried rubbing it away. Was I this delusional? Enough to stand out here in the frigid cold for a Fae?—

“You’re still here.”

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