Page 22 of The Road to Hell

“They matter,” Rathiel said, his voice low and rough.

I froze as he stepped closer, circling me with slow, deliberate movements. He didn’t speak again, didn’t ask for permission. He simply stopped behind me, his presence undeniable.

The silence stretched, thick and heavy, before the faintest touch of fingertips brushed against one of my shoulders. His hand lingered, his touch so light it was almost reverent, as though he feared pressing too hard would break me.

“When I saved you, the wounds were fresh,” he said softly, his voice strained. “But these…” He trailed off, his fingers following the path of one scar, tracing the raised, twisted skin.

“They didn’t heal properly,” I said.

“No,” he murmured, his voice thick with an emotion I couldn’t name. “They didn’t.”

The quiet words hit harder than I expected, a reminder of the wounds I’d carried alone for so long.

Eliza’s voice broke the moment. “Your father did this?”

I met her gaze, her expression caught between horror and anger.

“Yes,” I said simply. “It was my punishment for rebelling against him.”

Rathiel’s hand fell away, but the heat of his touch lingered. He stepped around to face me, his jaw tight and his eyes burning with an intensity that made my chest ache.

I took a deep breath and forced my thoughts back to the problem at hand. This was no time to dwell on my scars—physical or otherwise. Right now, survival came first. And survival meant arming myself. I strode to our weapons bag and did exactly that—sheathing two daggers to my wrists, strapping a third to my calf, and hanging my swords at my hips, right where they belonged.

Once the bag was empty, I folded it up and tucked it into my pack, which I then heaved onto my back and buckled the straps across my chest. I wasn’t used to carrying one while armed, but we needed these supplies, so I’d adjust.

“We need to get moving. The longer we stay in one spot, the more dangerous our situation becomes,” I said, studying our surroundings to get my bearings.

I’d grown up here, so I liked to think I knew every inch of the terrain. However, my father was known for changing the landscape based on his whims. Thankfully, I did recognize this place. Ahead of us, looming against the fiery haze, sat the Blazing Cliffs.

The terrain leading up to them was rugged and uneven, a series of rocky slopes and cracked ground that would love nothing more than to send us plummeting to our deaths. Then, on the other side of the cliffs, was an ocean of lava. The temperature would continue to rise the closer we got, but caves riddled the towering cliffs, and right now, caves were our best option.

I pointed to the cliffs. “That way. I know of a few caves up there, near the top of the plateau.”

“You do?” Eliza asked, her tone skeptical.

“Sure,” I replied. “My father forbade me from leaving the palace, so naturally?—”

“You left the palace,” Eliza finished, laughing.

Rathiel let out a quiet snort, the faintest trace of a smile tugging at his lips. “Naturally,” he echoed, his tone laced with dry amusement. “I seem to recall a particular moment when Lily was much younger. She believed she could outsmart me by climbing out a window to reach the roof.”

I rolled my eyes, despite the warmth creeping into my cheeks. “I didn’tthinkI could outsmart you. Ididoutsmart you.”

Rathiel arched a brow, his expression shifting into one of exaggerated skepticism. “And you nearly broke your neck when you slipped and fell.”

“Sure, but that was the day I learned to fly,” I said, my voice taking on a wistful note.

Eliza’s gaze jumped between us, her brow furrowing as she studied Rathiel and me with growing curiosity. “Wait,” she said, gesturing between us. “Just how long have you two known each other?”

“My whole life,” I answered. “But Rathiel’s lived for millennia longer than me.”

Eliza’s face paled. “Millennia? How does that work? He doesn’t look a day over twenty-five.”

I brushed a stray strand of hair from my face. “Celestials stop aging when we reach maturity,” I explained. “Rathiel may be far older than me, but physically, we look the same. Perks of being an angel.”

Rathiel let out a low grunt, his voice rough. “I’m no angel.”

“Rath—”

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