Page 60 of A Haven of Brimstone and Darkness

“It will be done,” Nubo replies.

I catch onto the shadows as they connect together through the dimly lit corridor and float in front of them to see their faces as they talk. Unlike Zalika, Nubo's voice hasn’t changed at all and his facial expression remains as even and unemotional as ever. The two look like the twins of a moon. One side dark and secretive and the other pale and impassive.

Between them both, though Zalika’s power and taciturn manner puts me on edge, it is the lack of … anything that I get from Nubo that truly concerns me.

One can tell a lot about how a person fights based on how they act, but Nubo has no impression in his tone. None in his face. None in his movements. He’s like a corpse given life.

Regis had claimed that Carcel had attacked him with dead men. That he was working with some unnamed God that gave him the ability, but who would have that power? Could Nubo have a connection?

Despite my desire to head towards the Terra rooms and find Niall, catching these two discussing matters concerning the Gods is a stroke of luck that we’ve needed. So, I follow them. All through the halls as they discuss a grand celebration that will come after the Hunt—theVenatusCeremony, Ruen had given as its true name.

Three ceremonial rites. Three ways to lessen our powers and steal from their own offspring. Shadows slip through my fingers and around my legs and arms, licking at my flesh, stroking as if to calm me.

The tendrils of black power curve around me, holding me, comforting me. It calms the racing of my heart and lets me return to my current mission: finding out everything that Zalika and Nubo have planned for the Gods.

At an intersection of two longer corridors, the two Mortal God Terra stop. “One last thing,” Zalika murmurs.

Swirling them, consumed by the shadows, my skin rises into little bumps along my arms and legs beneath my clothes. I ignore the silent warning as I drift ever closer, needing to hear more.

Zalika’s voice drops to a whisper. “Make sure that your man on the mainland gets rid of the rising mortal army.”

Mortal army? There is no mortal army. A shiver chases down my arm, another warning as sweat drips from my temple. The shadows curling around me loosen their grip and I feel stone underneath my feet. Dragging them back with effort, I lean against the wall and hold my breath.

“Once the ceremonies are complete, the Gods will have the means to end it themselves, but until then, I want to make sure that they have nothing to worry about.”

Nubo bobs his head, the glint of a nearby torch hanging from the wall shining over his bald scalp. Blinking, I jerk my gaze to it as the shadow of something like a skeleton’s outline shines through. Not just a head covered in flesh but a true skull. Sunken in eyes, an invisible nose that is nothing but twin slits, and the white of bone.

Nubo isn’t a Mortal God. He’s an undead creature. A dead man. Regis. Puzzle pieces click together. Carcel. Nubo’s man on the mainland. The mortal army. Regis and Ophelia are raising an army. That must be what they’re talking about.

I stumble back and would have fallen were it not for the shadows that catch me and heft me back up. The back of mytunic is drenched in sweat that forces the fabric to cling to my spine, chilling me all over.

The Gods are losing power. I don’t know why and I don’t know how, but if they can’t even stop whatever army Regis and Ophelia are cobbling together, then that must mean that Caedmon’s predictions are correct. We do have a chance. I can kill him and if I can kill him … we can be free. Truly free.

Nubo and Zalika separate, each going their own way, and as soon as they’re around corners, I release a long breath. My shadows disintegrate in an instant. With a shaky hand, I push a strand of silver hair out of my face and plant my other on the wall to steady my trembling body. For some reason, maintaining my shadows for so long has left me feeling as though I’ve run nonstop for several days and nights. My thighs shake as I take a step back the way I’d come only to come up short when I realize exactly where I am.

Turning my head as cool air sucks down one of the four corridors—a darkened one that I know leads to a fake dead end. The prison entrance. I consider going there, taking the stairs that lead down, and coming face to face with the woman trapped below.

Ariadne. Goddess of Darkness and Shadows. My mother. My God parent.

I close my eyes, fighting back a wave of nausea. Not since I was a veritable child barely into my adolescence have I felt this depleted by expending so much power. Even if I wanted to face my God parent right now, my legs don’t have the energy to make the trek.

My throat catches and I gag, hunching over as I take another step away from the corridor. The bones in my legs seize, refusing to move as I come to a standstill with my side pressed to the cold stone as more sweat drips down my back and face. Panting, myjoints protest as my hair falls back into my face and I lift an arm to push it away again.

The gray walls of the corridor pivot and turn, twisting into an unending spiral. Bile burns up my insides, pushing harder to get into my throat and out of my mouth. I clench my teeth together, feeling the quiet whistle of air in and out.

No,I silently command. I am the one in control of my body and I decide when and where I can succumb to my own deficiencies. Now is not that time.

As if to prove that to myself, I grind down against the hard floor under me, making sure it’s still there and not over my head like my eyes are telling me. I lift it to take another step forward and it disappears completely out from under me.

My hand leaves the wall to catch myself as I fall, but it’s too late. The ground rushes up and the darkness of oblivion descends. I barely have a moment before my head cracks into the stone below to realize that the shadows haven’t abandoned me at all, they hover just out of reach—slithering up and down the air around me as if trying to breach an invisible barrier.

Arms sweep me up, slender and soft. The scent of sunshine and summer invades my nostrils. I inhale deeply, trying to place the scent as weights drag my eyelids down, refusing me entry to the visible world.

“Shhhh.” A gentle feminine voice whispers to me. “You are safe,Neptis.You are safe now.”

The woman’s voice is as tender as her arms are strong. For the first time in a long time, I actually believe her. If she says I’m safe then, maybe, I finally am.

Chapter 30

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