Page 106 of The Secrets of Jane: Reborn
Curiosity overtakes my exhaustion as I turn to get a better view. The wagon moves beneath a colossal, decorative archway that acts as another entrance to the even more inner circle, its surface wrapped with flames. The structure is breathtaking, carved from pale, almost luminous stone. It depicts two figures—men or women, it’s hard to tell—leaning against a massive circle at the apex of the arch. The fire that wraps around their sculpted forms is mesmerizing, licking up their bodies in continuous, living ribbons of flame.
Two fire mages stand in concentration at the base of either person, clearly in charge of ignition.
I can’t help but find that absolutely fucking interesting.
Is this what the rest of the world is like? Vastly different from where I’ve grown up. Well, now I want to know what somewhere like Belstead is like. Or the Huntswood.
Or across the Black Sea.
Pale stone, along with polished wood, seems to be what the majority of structures are made from here, most of the edgescrisp and the streets clean. The castle is made of the same materials, with more angles and rounded rooms, a massive circular piece in the center with a tall, pointed roof, windows lining it in rows, a few birds flying off of it to really exaggerate how large it is.
I’m a little angry this place is so beautiful.
When the wagons finally stop within the castle’s inner courtyard, I notice the ocean stretching out behind the walls, a vast terrace ahead of me that one could reach after walking through a pathway made of arches. The entire opposite side of the fortress is open to the sea, the horizon vast and unbroken.
That’soneway to escape.
And the sirens are out there.
Isthatwhere I need to go?
Can Melona feel me? Is she angry at me for being a naive child who believed what she was told? If she’s out there, and willing to help, I could literally just run for it and jump into the waters, fulfilling Cypress’s task in under a day?—
Stop trying to escape.You need to know where the sirens need to be freed from… the open ocean makes no sense.
Gods it’s hard to change my thought process. I’m so used to fleeing as my only source of fighting, always dipping out of outposts near Coalfell if people from Skull’s Row ever seemed to close.
I watch as Anya’s carriage is taken further down, our gazes connecting for the first time inhours, her expression blank but her eyes sharp, assessing everything around her.
It’s real, now.
She’s officially taken somewhere else.
My attention snaps to the commotion behind me when the guards falter, their postures stiffening as though bracing against an unseen force—looking further over my shoulder, I catch sight of a carriage that seems to drain the light from the air aroundit. Its construction is menacingly sleek, crafted entirely from a black so deep it swallows details. Even the metal framework seems painted, as though polished with darkness itself. The people bow low, heads dipping in synchronized submission as the carriage creaks past.
A hand clamps firmly on my shoulder, the grip rough and impatient, yanking me out of my trance. “Enough, Jane,” Blackwell’s voice growls. “You’ll have your day with Misery.Luckyyou,” he says, his mockery clear.
I don’t reply and move forward as told.
“You have a lot less fire now,” he comments, a guard guiding me to a side entrance.
“I’m just tired of it all,” I reply, trying to lean into a meek personality, even letting my voice waver slightly.Is that too dramatic? Probably is.
“Oh,really?”
“I’ve heard that hunters will sometimes wound an animal and chase it until it just gives up. I’m tired of running. So good job catching me.”
He has no idea of the undertones for me. And Misery can’t read that, and while I might be tired of running, it’s because Ibadlywant to bring them all to their knees.
A strip of fabric is wrapped around my eyes before entering the castle, much to my disappointment.Don’t worry about that for now.
I need to be complacent.
The air changes as we step inside, cooler and tinged with the faint, earthy scent of stone. My ears prick at the steady cadence of Blackwell’s boots, accompanied by a chorus of obedient greetings, “Sir… sir… good evening, sir…” It’s a long fucking walk to wherever we’re going, and I just know Blackwell is probably getting hard at the idea of being so respected here. I don’t needto be well-traveled to feel the energy is different here than at the Spiraling Stone.
Blackwell is getting a taste ofnobility.
Eventually, we hit so many stairs, all in a circle, the stony steps unrelenting in how many there are. Each turn feels like an eternity, the muscles in my legs burning until I falter.
