Page 56 of Fated In Forever
“And you?” Those eyes slid away into the darkness. “Oh, I see, you’ll stay here and be a martyr. A monster martyr, wasting away in the shadows. Well, just so you know, that is bullshit, if I’ve ever heard it. So no, I will not honor your request, your eminence.”
“You really piss me off sometimes.”
“Well, right back at you.” I snapped, and his tail slowly uncoiled from my arm.
“I’m doing this for your own good.”
“You’re doing this because you think the only way you can keep me safe is by keeping your distance, like somehow, if you stay away, so will our enemies.” I pressed my hand over my heart. “But we both know that’s not true, Malachi. You can’t pretend there isn’t something inside us, something connecting…hey, where are you going? I’m making a speech here.”
But he was already moving, stepping from the outcroppingonto a narrow path I didn’t even notice, one that led to the valley floor. To the creepy as fuck castle with its burning torches and open gates.
“Well, are you coming?” He called, his voice carrying. “Or do you want to spend more time speechifying?”
I glanced at the souls circling overhead, then Malachi's retreating form. The path looked treacherous, carved out of the same glassy black stone as everything else in this realm, winding down into shadows that reached toward us with eager, grasping fingers.
“Sure. Let’s head down to the creepy death castle. I’m sure it’s fine.Of course, it’s fine. What the hell, Malachi? Haven’t youeverwatched a horror movie in your life?”
Taking a deep breath of cold, sulfurous air, I stepped onto the path and began my descent toward the castle of shadows, toward whatever waited for us inside those open gates. “You do know this is a trap, right? I mean, it’s like textbook trap, with those open gates and torches. There’s probably some hideous monster inside there, just waiting to gobble us up.”
Malachi grinned—not the reassuring smile he imagined it to be—then something brushed my shoulder. His tail. I shivered, and I wasn’t exactly sure it was from fear.
“I’m pretty terrible, too, and whatever’s inside that castle, I won’t let it touch you, Vicious.”
Somehow, that did actually make me feel better.
But off in the distance, echoing off the walls of the monstrous castle, I could have sworn I heard Riordan, screaming my name.
24
EVANGELINE
Wow. Just…wow.
The obsidian fortress rose like a jagged wound above us.
Volcanic glass walls were covered with more of those etched markings, hairline fractures spread across the gleaming surface like a web of ancient scars. The shadow sky seemed to pause when we passed through those gates, watched by gargoyles carved from the same shiny glass, their features worn smooth by centuries of blowing sand, their hollow eyes tracking our every move.
The inner courtyard lay in ruins, like shards of a shattered mirror. The obsidian flagstones were buckled and cracked, a fountain at the courtyard's center stood dry and broken, its grotesque main figure headless and missing limbs. The basin was filled with black sand, the same sand we’d been tracking through for hours.
Had there ever been water here, or had that black sand once spilled from basin to basin?
Something to think about as we approached the castle itself.
The main doors to the castle hung loose on broken hinges, and beyond the opening, a grand staircase of black stone curved upwards out of sight, the Great Hall stretched away into shadow, flanked by obsidian pillars rising like theribs of some colossal beast, holding up a roof that no longer existed. Massive chandeliers of black iron lay broken on the floor, like the skeletons of fallen giants.
“Holy shit. Look at that.” My hand found Malachi’s, my fingers wrapping around his as I stared down the long expanse.
At the far end, a throne of fused skulls and obsidian sat empty upon a raised dais, like it was waiting for its king, and I snuck a look at Malachi, his face expressionless. Tattered banners flapped from the walls, whatever symbols they once displayed too faded to make out, and everything reeked of death.
The lost souls had followed us in, spinning up through the gaping hole in the roof, floating along on unseen breezes, but most of them stayed close, hovering around me and Malachi.
Occasionally, a distant whistle echoed through the empty halls—the wind tearing through broken windows, the groan of settling stone. “Whose castle is this?” I whispered. “Who used to live here, do you think?”
But Malachi didn’t answer, staring, not at the hauntingly beautiful desolation, but at the floor in front of the throne.
At the crown lying there, tipped to the side, fallen from the head of some forgotten king.
Or waiting to sit upon the head of the new one.
