Page 66 of Lord of Eternal Night (Darkmourn Universe 1)

I pushed myself away from my haunting reflection, giving up on the hopes of sleeping when daylight finally sliced through the dust-filled air of the chamber. When I blinked it seemed that the lingering moon had embedded itself into my dark mind. A constant reminder of what the following evening was to bring.

In a trance I tugged a jacket around my shoulders, and pathetically tied the laces on the boots up whilst I lost my stare to a point on the wall ahead of me. There was only one thought that held enough energy to keep moving forward.

Marius. I had to see Marius. To find and speak to him.

I moved through the castle, a husk of a boy, hardly taking note of my surroundings. Through the dining hall, up to the door that would lead me to the pits far beneath where I stood. To him.

I gave little care for the door as I threw a hand up, calling for my magic to aid me. My fire was the only element to respond. I conjured the flame to cradle the iron handle until it charred to a malleable, weak point. Then I willed for the wind to listen to my call. Unlike the fire, it was reluctant. I forced much strength into my call until a single gust of sharp, phantom wind slammed against the door and snapped the lock in two.

There was no point in hiding now.

Through the following corridor I moved, bumping carelessly into the wall as it turned and twisted. There was no light here and I did not conjure a flame to help.

On I ambled until the path ended. I did not need light to know that a door stood before me. Covered entirely in chains. The padlock on my side. Keeping something in, rather than out.

He was here. Locked away.

I pressed my hands against the wood of the door and leaned my forehead against its surface. Tears flowed freely as my urgency to see him increased. The slams of my fists echoed through the dark. Each one so loud that it shook my skull. But I continued my torrent of hits and punches, intensifying them until the skin across my knuckles ripped and my fingers dampened with my own blood.

I gripped a hold of the heavy, thick padlock and squeezed, hissing through my teeth as a shout of desperation spilled from me.

Burn. Fire danced across my hands and wrists, illuminating the space before me in orange light.Burn. I watched, unblinking, forcing more heat into the padlock.Burn. It softened beneath my touch, turning into mush as my fist tightened.Burn. There was an echoing of pain that spread across my palm, diluted by the fire that glowed across it.Burn. A guttural scream exploded from me as I yanked hard on the padlock. It came away in my hand, the web of chains spilling like useless hair across the ground at my feet. The links had been nailed to points in the wall around the door, even threaded beneath the gap at my feet onto the other side.

Yet the iron pulled away like butter, the chains tethered by my flame.

The faint ringing of metal across stone vibrated through the air as I willed the fire to die, returning it to the warm pits within me until I required its presence again.

It only took a gentle push for the door to swing open.

I stood at the precipice, looking into the midnight cavern. Candles burned in every corner, melted into a monstrous pile of wax from years of reuse. The glow was enough to see the sight that waited.

Old wooden barrels were piled atop one another, some marked with scratched and faded numbers and letters. Wine. They had contained wine. I had seen the very same beside the bar at our local tavern. But those did not look as forgotten and… empty as these. Beside them bottles of dark green glass sat, some holding thin pillar candles, others only filled with cobwebs.

But it was not that sight that sent the lightning of disdain coursing through the layer between my skin and muscles.

An open coffin lid revealing its contents rested steps before me. From my stance I could see the glow of pale skin nestled in a bed of ruby, silk sheets. I stepped towards him, hand to my chest, feeling the violent slam of my heart within. Marius slept, like a child coddled with dark material. He looked so peaceful. His arms crossed over his broad chest, hardly enough room for movement if he wanted.

But he was still. Deadly still as he was lost to his dreamscape.

I knew there was no waking him for I had tried when he slept by my side. During the day it was as if he was non-existent. A body, a shell of a man with nothing inside. Only at night did he truly come alive.

I knelt beside him, reaching out a hand to touch his own.

“I had to see you,” I whispered, picking up his soft, relaxed hand and holding it in mine. I expected for his hand to be stiff, but it wasn’t. I studied his smooth, lineless face for a reaction. For some proof he heard me, registered my presence. But Marius did not even flinch as I spoke. “It has played terribly on my mind, knowing that I lied to you. I know I will not get to tell you now, but I promise you that I will fight. Fight to keep us both alive through the night.”

I brought his hand to my mouth and pressed my lips to it. Tears soaked my cheeks and chin. He was so terribly cold but I held on firm, his familiar feeling welcome when I longed nothing more than him to hold me too.

“We will make it through this night to come and I will spend an eternity making up for my lies to you. I promise.” My cry was building into a chest-wracking sob. My vision blurred and my forehead tensed as I tried to catch my breath. “I have no one but you. A stranger, but one I know more than my own mother. My own self.”

I gave into the sadness that held me hostage. It was impossible to grasp how long I sat there, in the pits of this dark room. Only when my eyes had dried and legs went numb did I contemplate leaving him in peace. As I reluctantly placed his hand back upon his chest, I noticed something in the grasp of his other hand.

I pried a folded piece of parchment from his fist, hands undeniably shaking. It made it close to impossible to unravel the parchment. Holding it up to the flame of the closest candle, I spoke aloud the line of scripted writing that sliced across the yellowed paper.

Do not hurt him.Remember. Do not hurt him.

It was a note.Written in the familiar curves that Marius had scripted across the countless books in his study.

I read it again. The words both echoing in the room and across my mind.Do not hurt him. He had locked himself in this room. Had that been Victorya’s final task?Remember. I knew he changed, and this only solidified that he became something different. A creature without thoughts.Do not hurt him.

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