Page 65 of A Haven of Brimstone and Darkness

With a groan, I shift my head and bury my face into her throat. “No,” I gripe. “Not ‘next time.' No more ‘next times.'”

Her soft chuckle is the brightest sound I’ve ever heard as she strokes her long fingers through my hair, pushing around the strands at the top of my head and stroking the locks that have fallen forward back. The comfortable moment, as beautiful as it is, however, has to end at some point. I lift my head away from her and stand back as Ruen moves forward.

“Where have you been?” he growls, seething.

Now that she’s here, I don’t even care about the fear. I’m just relieved to know that she’s okay and that … she was never a figment of this horrible place playing tricks on my mind.

Kiera’s gaze roves over Ruen’s darkened expression and she shakes her head. “Later,” she says and that’s it. All she has to say. Somehow, in a matter of months, this woman has managed to do what our sire never has—she’s tamed us.

Though Ruen’s anger doesn’t dissipate, he does back off. Kalix finishes strapping on a second sword beneath the first, buckling the leather sheath into place. Each of us had taken more than one sword and a few other weapons that had been available. When it’d become clear that the Terra weren’t going to stop us from having more than one each, we’d decided for ourselves to ensure that we would not be without weapons for this Hunt.

Ruen’s fingers hover over Kiera’s shoulder as she draws nearer, not quite touching, though making it obvious that he wants to. “You will explain yourself,” he says, balling his fingers into a fist before dropping it back to his side. “Later.”

The corner of Kiera’s lips twitch upward, but she nods before facing the front of the assembly hall. To my surprise, it’s not one God that appears on the dais below, but all of them on the God Council.

The five remaining members of the God Council gather on the stage below, and at the same time, the doors at the back of the room slam shut. I whirl, along with Ruen, my hand going to my sword. Zalika and Nubo stand at the back of the room in front of the doors, their faces passive. I glance at Kalix and Kiera, both of whom haven’t moved, their eyes never leaving the dais where the Gods stand.

It’s then that I realize something—they know what’s coming. At least, Kiera knows. Kalix likely doesn’t give a shit who tries to close him in. A monster like him can never be trapped and he knows that. But how Kiera knows what to expect, I can’t say. Perhaps, it’s the reason behind her disappearance, though it’s not like I can ask now.

Slowly, I shift on my feet, turning back to face the same way, and as they keep their eyes enduringly on the Gods above, I follow their lead.

Chapter 32

Kiera

There are simply some things you can never get accustomed to. One of those things is the Void. The quasi-empty soulless dimension between realms is, perhaps, one of the most disturbing places I’ve ever experienced in my life and that is saying something considering I trained and worked as an assassin for ten years. I’ve seen the darkest parts of humanity in Anatol. Witnessed gruesome murders in secret markets for little more than the coin the dead held in their pocket and then witnessed again, the absolute callous behavior of everyone else who merely stepped over the bodies and continued on as if it was perfectly natural.

The Void is worse. At least in back alleys and rough taverns and secret markets, you can potentially see when a killer is coming for you. The Void, however, turns all of a person’s senses into useless tools. It is sightlessness and unknowing, and that was only the first time. The second time is much worse.

Ruen, Kalix, and Theos disappear from view. One moment there and the next gone as fog rolls in, wrapping around my legs and arms and sweeping me into an all-new space. I hold still—hoping that, just like last time, I manage to get through this part intact.

I inhale, casting my mind back to Makeda’s warning before I’d left her chambers and she’d disappeared off to wherever she needed to be to perform this next ceremony.

See not with your eyes,she had said,but with the sight all Fae hold within themselves and you will see past the spells they cast.

Fae. Not Mortal Gods. Because as Caedmon had revealed weeks before, the Gods are not Gods, but Atlanteans and Atlanteans are of a larger species known as Fae from a distant world that I know nothing about. A part of me wonders what it must have been like in their world. Had they been safe? Likely not, considering they snuck into Anatol and set themselves up as Divine Beings to rule over the rest of us. But if I am Ariadne and Henric’s daughter, then that means I’m more Atlantean, more Fae, than mortal. I belong more to their world in my blood than I do to this one.

I open my eyes, taking in the fog and rolling white and gray clouds. A shadow of something massive slithers into my periphery. I keep my gaze trained forward, ignoring it even when the slithering continues for several long seconds as if the creature istryingto get my attention.

Tik. Tik. Tik.

The new sound from the fog causes the small hairs on my arms to rise. Another creature's shadow scuttles out of the gloom, this one just as long and massive but with dozens upon dozens of small legs like that of a centipede save for the fact that it appears as large as a horse-drawn carriage. I hold my breath even though my hands itch to reach out, to seek Kalix or Ruen or Theos. They are there, I can feel them close by, but just like me, they are trapped in their own version of the Void. And like me, this time, they don't try to reach out or call for each other.

The monster creeps steadily forward, faster and faster, not stopping as it barrels right towards me.See not with your eyes,I repeat to myself.See not with your eyes.Far easier said than done, but I try and in order to do so, I need to cut off my sight entirely.

Despite the massive creature speeding towards me without any sign of stopping, I close my eyes and hold still. Inhale. Exhale. I breathe deeply, focusing only on the air moving in and out of my lungs. The sound the creature's legs make—thattik. tik. tiking—veers to my left at the last second and for a moment, I feel the brush of not hard scales, but of soft fur. I lean to the side, biting down hard on my lower lip to keep myself from opening my eyes.

Not yet. It's not time.

With my eyes closed and my breaths slowing to something even and relaxed, I begin to pick up the pieces I missed the last time I was here. The smell for one is neither foul nor enticing, but a scent of absolute nothingness. There is no sweetness, no sour acidity in the air that would give me an idea of other things in the area. There's no scent of animal feces or decaying rot. The temperature, too, is neither burning nor cold, but instead an even sensation of air around the bare parts of my body. It's ... comfortable.

With that thought, I sink further down into my heels. No uneven terrain, no strain on the arches of my feet, just simple flat land. When my eyes open again, the fog is rolling away, drifting and parting. Just before we touch down, I see it—what Makeda had alluded to. A place beyond our own realm that is unending glass. A reflection of itself over and and over again, as it is above so it is below.

I blink and the real Void disperses as bodies appear, walking out of the fog onto dirt and grass. Trees surround me and I turn in a circle, frowning as the familiar scent of pine and wet soil invades my nostrils. A forest, but not just any forest.

"The Hinterlands..."

At first, I think I've voiced my suspicion aloud, but a second later, I recognize that the words are spoken in such a light tone that the cadence doesn't match my own voice. Turning my head, I stare down at a short woman dressed in a pair of loose brown trousers and an ill-fitting albeit well-crafted light blue tunic. Long rows of black braids stretch from her scalp all the way down to her backside. A quick glance over my opposite shoulder reveals that the Darkhavens are not far.

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