Page 21 of Return of the Darkness
“Do you want to get down?” Soren retorted. Sadira fell silent and watched closely as the vines twisted at her sister’s feet. Soren furrowed her brow to focus before guiding the lush green vines up the tree in a twisting ladder for Sadira, whose eyes widened, her mouth dropping open.
“Be careful. I don’t know how strong it is, but I’ll catch you if you fall,” Soren said. Sadira bit her lip at the makeshift ladder; her eyes shone with tears. “Hey, look at me,” Soren whispered, and Sadira did, her curls tumbling around her face. “You are brave, you are strong, you can do anything.” Sadira nodded slowly before beginning her climb down the vines, reinforced by Soren’s power. White flowers grew from the buds, opening with a delicate scent as Sadira took a last step onto the tree roots and flung her arms around Soren’s neck.
“Thank you, Soren,” she whispered into her sister’s braids.
Soren held her sister tight. “I’ll always save you.”
The bright sky of Doltas Island faded from Soren’s mind until she was left with only a slither of light filtering in from a crack on the side of the wall. Her back was damp when she sat up from the wall and lifted her head. Jabir slid a tray under the bars and narrowed his eyes, watching. Some of the contents spilled fromthe bowl onto the tray, but Soren ignored the food. Instead, she reached for the bandages on the other side. She watched Jabir as she wrapped her arms, allowing the fabric to soak up the blood from the lines that would soon form scars, matching the one already on her cheek. When she tucked the final piece under the end of her wrist, Jabir finally left.
With a sigh, Soren kicked the tray away. She lost her appetite once they threw her in the cell. The thought of food sickened her, especially when her mind wandered to her wolves—to Baelyn. Her eyes watered as she stared at the bowl of meat and rice tipped on its side. She would give anything to have her wolves here. She dreaded to think about how Tapesh had been after his sister’s murder.
Her shock at the sudden loss stopped her from fighting Nyzaia. One moment, she was screaming for her dead wolf; the next, she was blacking out on the sands. When Soren finally awoke, she was chained to a tree, with Sir Cain watching over her. She had immediately thought of her wolves again before her mind drifted to Caligh, wondering where he was. Based on the joyful soldiers walking past, and the lack of dark shadows, she quickly deduced Caligh had lost. Where did that leave her? A traitor and a prisoner, with no hope of ever returning to the man who had once guided her.
Glancing between Sir Cain and Myara in the distance, she had contemplated if she was fast enough to flee.
“Don’t even think about it,” he’d said. After that, Soren stayed where she was, allowing her mind to conjure more escape plans. But how would she flee Novisia? She had no boat, no loyal followers, no crew, unless she went to Doltas first. But she knew little about where Caligh would go from there, and that’s when it hit her—she knew so little about him. Even if she wanted to flee, she couldn’t. Not without her wolves. She would not abandon the others after losing one member of their pack already.
A sudden ringing crippled Soren. Doubling over in pain, she clutched her head as the same high-pitched frequency from thepast few days pierced her mind, forcing her to remember a moment from the past.
“Stop, please stop,” she mumbled, exhausted by the constant visions. She failed to grasp their significance, and it all proved rather tiring.
“It is a big responsibility for Sadira.” The voice of Soren’s grandmother was haunting. Authority dripped from her tone, despite not having sat on the throne in years. “And you must be the one to protect her. Can you do that?” Soren stood in the turret room of the castle on Doltas Island. Her grandmother Lyra did not face her; she remained where she always did, staring out of the window, overlooking the ocean and Garridon, her homeland.
“It would be an honour to protect Sadira and her new husband.” Soren placed her hand on her flat chest. She was barely thirteen, still growing into her young teenage body. “When will this happen?” Lyra flicked through an old book with the Wiccan symbol on the front, pausing on an illustration of a dark sword. Her grandmother slammed the cover closed when she sensed Soren’s prying eyes. Neither Soren nor Sadira were allowed near that book.
“I cannot be certain, but it won’t be long after you see smoke rising from the mainland. A new king will come looking for a bride, and Sadira will be perfect. Their marriage will unite the realm and, one day, their child will bring peace.”
“I will protect them with my life, I swear it,” Soren said, running from the room to look for her sister. She halted at the sound of crying from their shared rooms and pushed the door open, peeking inside to find Sadira on the velvet seat by the window overlooking the gardens. Tears streamed down her face.
“Sadira.” Soren kept her voice quiet and stepped inside, wiping her sister’s cheeks with the sleeve of her gown. Sadira gave Soren a sad smile as she perched on the arm of her sister’s chair. “What’s wrong?”
“I have to marry someone else.” Sadira sniffed, looking out of the window. Soren followed her eyeline and softened at the sightof Rodik chopping wood. Rodik was always so kind to her sister—funny, too. Even Soren laughed when he was around.
“I’m sorry, Sadira,” Soren murmured, pulling her sister close. “I’m sure the future king will be very kind to you.” Sadira sniffed again. “Besides, no one could ever be mean to you. I’ll be there every step of the way to protect you both.”
Soren slammed her palm against her forehead before smacking her head against the brick wall. The blinding pain brought her back into the cell’s four walls. She was going crazy. Her mind was creating false scenarios to punish her for failing Caligh. She had no recollection of the thoughts at the forefront of her mind. Sighing, Soren pushed the tray away with her foot before curling up on the floor and resting her head on the thin blanket that had been there since she arrived.
Soren let her mind drift as she stared at the metal bars, reminding her of those in her dreams—Caligh, always before them, never letting her near. Perhaps Tajana was behind bars like these. Even though Tajana was Soren’s friend, he still tortured her.He has a reason for everything, her mind prompted, though a different voice asked:Are those reasons valid?Soren ignored both voices, silencing her mind. She wanted to be alone, as she so often was.
Chapter Thirteen
Caellum
Anxiety racked Caellum’s body, causing the keys in his hand to clang together as he tried to unlock the mahogany door. With a deep breath, he tried again with a click that set his teeth on edge. He turned the key and nodded to the two guards, who were to wait at the end of the hallway rather than outside the door to allow him privacy. They bowed and faced away, guarding the only entry point into the room. The door didn’t budge when Caellum pressed his hand against it. He tilted his body and slammed his shoulder into the door, which gave way with a billow of dust. Covering his mouth with the crook of his arm, Caellum coughed into his tailored jacket and waved his other hand to clear his vision.
He paused on the threshold. He was always forbidden from entering his father’s study. In fact, the entire hallway was off-limits to Caellum and his siblings. They would make up stories of what their father did in here. They would even pretend his unkindness was a pretence to save the realm from monsters—anything to justify the pain they endured. What would his siblings say now if they knew how close that was to the truth?
Darkness shrouded the room, with the heavy green drapes hiding the sunlight from outside. Caellum had spent the entire morning with the lords prior to venturing up to the study, though it had felt like forever. The lords all approved the rulers’ plans, all except Lord Ryon, of course, who asked question after question. His presence alone made the day feel like a drag. But the day was still young as sunlight slivered from below the curtains.
Caellum strode for the drapes and dragged them back, allowingsunlight to flood the room. He paused at the walled garden below. His father’s study was on the highest floor of the castle. As a child, he had never considered what it overlooked. Ivy, creeping past both sides of the glass, cast shadows across the room as Caellum turned, taking it all in.
It differed little from the rest of the castle, but something, other than its décor, made it feel darker. A deep wood coated every inch of space: the floor, walls, and ceiling. As it was so high in the castle, it lacked the vaulted height the other floors had. As with most rooms in Antor castle, all the furniture was various shades of green, an array of forest, emerald, and sage. Caellum was grateful for Sadira’s arrival in Garridon. At least the castle’s common areas now had other colours to brighten the space. Leather-bound books filled one wall of bookcases, while his father’s successful hunting trophies hung above the fireplace. Caellum grimaced at the dead deer watching him. On the opposite wall was Wren’s desk: a large mahogany beast with a deep leather top—also green, of course. Caellum wondered if his ancestors on Ithyion had always stuck religiously to decorating their spaces in the realm’s colours. He began clearing the stacks of glasses from the desk, some lifting with papers still stuck to the bottom.After clearing the desk, Caellum finally walked around to the table and pulled the chair out, taking a seat.Journal. Where would my father hide a journal?He paused as he lowered into the chair. Staring back at him were seven small gold-framed portraits of Caellum and his siblings. He rubbed the light stubble on his chin. Were they here for show? Yet nobody ever entered his father’s study, so who would he display them for? Perhaps some part of him remained inside his corrupted mind. Caellum cleared his throat and looked away from his siblings.
“I’m looking for answers,” he mumbled, as though they were truly there, alongside him. He did not know what answers he expected to find but thought only of the journal Sir Cain mentioned, begging to be found and read. There was a chance his grandfather’s journal was discarded long ago, but perhaps he couldfind some useful information to use in the future—anything that might offer insight into the mind of Caligh’s victims to prevent it from happening again.
A chaotic jumble of papers, ledgers of finances, and letters to the other Lords regarding trade deals were splayed on the desk. Caellum paused while rifling through a stack between his father and Lord Ryon, who appeared to question his father as much as he did Caellum. Once the papers were stacked on one side, he examined the remaining items on the desk. A pipe sat on a silver tray to his right, beside a small trinket box. Caellum flipped the clasp and opened it up to find three pins within, each no larger than the pad of his thumb.
Caellum turned over the first pin and ran his thumb over the head of a wolf. The second held a symbol he recognised, matching the one on the Wiccan book owned by Sadira’s grandmother. He squinted at the third; it was a similar shape to the Wiccan symbol but its lines curved differently, and it was too faded to discern any other differences.
