Page 105 of Storm of Shadows

“Indeed,” he replies, “among other things. Some Void Princes craft illusions to fill their realms. The Prince of Lust is known for her extravagant gardens, filled by illusionary black roses. Their petals are like ink and their thorns like poison.”

“What about you? Do you have illusions to decorate your realm?”

“Some,” Natharius says. And that’s the only answer I receive. His gaze returns to the stars, and he sips at the moon-blossom wine. It’s clear the Void Prince is done talking for the night.

I shrug and start back to my blanket, the half-empty bottle of moon-blossom wine where I left it. The dusky liquid shimmers in the moonlight, beckoning me forth.

thirty-four

Maybemytolerancetowine is already waning. Though I’m certain I drank little moon-blossom wine last night, I wake to a splitting headache. Losing my tolerance to alcohol makes little sense, since it was only a few weeks ago I was drinking atop Nolderan’s cliffs with Eliya.

That thought makes me pause. It’s hard to believe barely over two weeks have passed since Nolderan’s fall. Already it feels like a lifetime ago. In some ways, at least. My pain is as raw as the night Arluin seized everything from me.

My headache lessens throughout the day, fading to a dull ache by the afternoon. The grassy plains soon turn into a rugged landscape of crags, and our journey becomes much more arduous. On several occasions, we have to scramble up rocky faces, and more than once I consider using magic instead of my hands. I don’t, however, knowing Natharius will only mock me for it. Even Taria, who’s draped in flowing golden robes, has no difficulty in climbing the rocks with her usual elegance. Besides, using magic would waste the aether flowing through my blood. After last night’s indulgence of moon-blossom wine, my magic seems to have finally returned to its usual strength, ready for the battle to come.

“When do you think we will reach Gerazad?” I ask as I fall into step beside Natharius. My breaths are uneven from all the climbing, but I do my best to hide my fatigue.

The Void Prince doesn’t turn as I speak. Not that the path ahead is particularly interesting; it’s filled only by cliffs, trees, and grass. At least the fact he keeps his gaze fixed ahead means he doesn’t see the reddening of my face from all our trekking. “Maybe this evening,” he says. “Or maybe tomorrow.”

“You’re certain?”

“I am.”

“You don’t sound very sure,” I reply. “It sounds like you’re guessing.”

That gets the Void Prince to look at me. “Why do I sound like I’m guessing?”

“There’s a difference between arriving this evening or tomorrow. A difference significant enough to determine whether or not we make it to Gerazad before Arluin.”

“I am the Prince of Pride, not your personal map.”

“But you’ve been this way before?”

“I have.”

“And you’re certain you remember the way?”

“It was centuries ago I was last here.”

“So, we could be walking in circles right now?”

Natharius says nothing, and I’d panic if not for the slight curling of his lip. The expression means the Void Prince is teasing me. Or at least I hope so.

Before I can order him to tell me the truth, Natharius points at the path ahead. A ring of stones looms on the horizon, though I have to squint to make them out.

“What’s that?” I ask, my brows knitting together as I squinted in the distance.

“The Ring of Thunder,” Natharius replies.

The menhirs become clearer as we draw closer, and I can soon make out the glowing runes etched into their stone surface. They’re polished and gleam like swords in the noon sun.

We stop at the center of the hulking stones, and their enormous height blocks out the sunlight, casting us in shadows.

I whirl around, gazing at the surrounding stones, and I count seven altogether. The energy rippling across the standing stones and illuminating their runes looks like aether. Yet there’s an unfamiliarity about it. “The Ring of Thunder?” I mutter under my breath, echoing Natharius’s words. “What do they do? Why are they here?”

“Long ago, this place was sacred place to the orcish stormcallers,” Natharius says.

“And it isn’t anymore?” The entire area is alive with energy, and I’m sure I can see lightning sparking off the standing stones. Why would a place so rich in magic be abandoned?

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