Page 128 of What Blooms from Death

And now I wasn’t sure how to shake the grip of that fear from my heart.

More desperate than ever for answers, I hugged Aveline goodbye and hurried back to Thalia, who had stayed behind at the training grounds. Phantom was curled up under the bench, snoring loudly. I nudged him with my boot. He woke with a disgruntled little growl, but quickly shook off his irritation and grew excited at the chance to stretch his legs and run somewhere outside of the palace.

While Thalia went to the stables to collect Uldrin, I took Phantom up on his offer to shift into his horse-like form and carry me; I felt safer on his back than I would on any other mount.

We rode for what felt like close to an hour. Far beyond the palace grounds, through the glittering royal city of Tarnath, back into the unprotected Deadlands beyond it all. The farther we traveled from Tarnath, the darker the sky became. The trees grew more and more bare; the ground, more dusty. The air became thick with the acrid stench of sulfur, mixed with the faint, metallic tang of something like blood.

Even knowing the truth about what this place was, it still felt like descending into Hell all over again.

“My kingdom,” I whispered under my breath, over and over—a reminder. “My kingdom…”

This was my kingdom, and I could still save it.

Chapter Thirty-Two

Nova

A chill beganto overtake us, sneaking its way into my bones and settling there. I pressed closer to Phantom’s back, to the heat radiating from him, and kept a watchful, determined eye on our surroundings.

The sky eventually began to lighten again, shifting to a bruised shade of violet rather than black—but its light was different from the one that hung over Tarnath and the palace. Not the light of a proper world’s sun, but a veiled shine with no source that I could pinpoint. One that felt threatening despite its softness.

We came to the head of a narrow, sandy grey path, marked by two columns wrapped in thorny vines. Thalia finally slowed to a stop and dismounted, unsheathing her staff from the special sling attached to Uldrin’s saddle.

“We won’t linger here long,” she said, “because it isn’t safe to do so. You and your power will eventually attract the attention of any shades that might be nearby. But generally, this is an area that those shades avoid. So we should have a few minutes towork with—averyfew minutes, as your brother stressed to me, over and over and over.”

I couldn’t help noticing, again, how fond and familiar her tone was when the subject of my brother came up.

“So, you’ve known him for over twenty-four years,” I said, hopping down from Phantom’s back.

“Give or take.”

“The two of you seem close.”

I had so many questions about him, I hardly knew where to start. I’d had precious little time with Bastian since my arrival—he was a popular man, it turned out. He called himself Regent, but most everyone else referred to him asKing, and he served in the role with what seemed like an endless amount of patience and resolve—though more out of obligation than any real desire for power, based on my limited observations.

I was the older twin, and, by their laws, apparently, I was the one meant to rule Noctaris’s central kingdom of Rivenholt. This most powerful crown of the Below was mine…if only I wanted to wear it. Yet, despite the significant opportunity it presented, the whole idea felt like an afterthought to me.

Because if I couldn’t master my magic, and ready my sword and army, then there would be no kingdoms left to rule over.

“We’ve come to rely on one another over the years,” Thalia replied, her tone lacking some of its usual, frigid confidence. “But that isn’t important right now.” She gestured to the path of grey sand that lay through the columns. “This is. Come on.”

“What about Uldrin?”

“He’s not a fan of the place we’re headed,” she said, already starting to walk, “so he’ll want to stay behind. Don’t worry; he won’t go anywhere.”

I cast an uncertain glance toward the scourge stallion—but he’d already started pawing at the ground in a bored manner, uncovering sprigs of grass and lazily chomping them.

He was large and terrifying enough that nothing would trouble him while we were gone, I supposed.

I jogged to catch up with Thalia’s long-legged strides. Phantom shifted into his dog form and loped ahead of us, sniffing at clumps of withered flowers and snapping at the floating specks of purplish-blue light in the air. Those specks grew more numerous the farther we walked. I thought they were fireflies at first, until some of them began to dart about in a strange manner, occasionally forming a glowing outline of a larger creature—spectral, winged beasts that were there one instant, gone the next. I started to slow to a stop, watching one of them more closely, but Thalia urged me on.

“We need to hurry,” she reminded me, gaze darting toward the distance, where the darkness was absolute. Her hand gripped her staff so tightly her knuckles turned white.

I did my best to ignore the strange glowing creatures as we walked on—even though they seemed to be curiously, timidly following us.

At the end of the path, we came to a small area where the ground was covered in silver grass. The trees here had actual leaves still on them, iridescent and papery-thin, their edges shimmering like dragonfly wings caught in a wash of moonlight. A fine mist drifted over everything, adding to the shimmering effect—and to the cold sinking into my bones. The air was heavy with the scent of earth and moss, and filled with a soft rustling, like the brush of unseen wings—or perhaps the whispers of unseen spirits.

In the center of it all, a stone archway curved over a freestanding door made of dark wood. The wood gleamed as if lit from the inside, casting intricate patterns of light and shadow over the various symbols carved into it. I walked a wide circle around it all; there was nothing noteworthy on the back side—just another stretch of grey sand, and a smooth wall of stone where I’d expected the back of the wooden door to be.

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