Page 80 of The Curse of Ophelia

Hesitantly, I stepped around the corner. With so many paths, I chose one at the insistence of the twisting feeling in my gut. The shadows masked me between the orbs of mystlight gathered along the ceiling and moonlight seeping through cracks in the walls. We were near the outer wall, then, not in the heart as I’d supposed. Stars were muddled by the smoke, making the light a tarnished gray rather than the bright white I was used to, but it was bright enough to be certain.

My thoughts flickered to my friends and Jezebel as I crept through the tunnels. Had they made it to the flame pool? Were they wondering why I had not yet appeared? Though I had no concept of time, it must be well into the night by now, creeping toward dawn.

I only hoped they were safe. I would crawl my way out of this maze if need be to find my way back to them.

I continued choosing routes that had that dull gray light filtering through spaces in the walls, afraid of losing the freedom of the sky. Was I traveling up or down? Was I walking in circles? I shoved the questions away, trusting my instincts would not steer me wrong.

My blood pulsed wildly through my body, a beast within me rearing to be unleashed. Something was coming—it could feel the threat. My back pressed to the wall, shoulder blades digging against the rock. With a hand hovering over the hilt of my sword, ready to strike, I crept toward the mouth of the newest tunnel and peered around the corner.

To my left, a deep orange glow flared in the distance. The heart of the volcano. To my right, more mystlight and a stretch of empty tunnel, reaching into the darkness. Pathways branched out from this one, deepening the maze. I did not know which side to give myself to.

The air shifted. A familiar but out-of-place scent wafted to me. That sound of metal against rock reached me again from the path to the right, growing louder now. Closer.

I looked between the darkness to my right and light to my left.

I turned right.

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Malakai

How long had I been in this cave? I’d lost count of the guard’s shifts, but they switched every few hours, so it must have been at least a day. Without the window of my former cell and the moon to track across the sky, I was a victim to time.

My brain—still foggy from the drugs they gave me—pounded, my vision hazy. They must have continued to work it into my system even while I was out, because my neck muscles were barely strong enough to hold my head up. Soon, it would pass. Then, they’d likely dose me again—unless they were busy dealing with…someone else.

The wound in my side was bleeding, a fresh bead of crimson trickling down my body. It must have ripped open when I thrashed against my chains, but with my arms restrained above my head, there was nothing I could do to stop it. I tested my muscles, trying to swing my arms, but the chains clanged lazily against rock.

For the first time in my life, I was truly broken.

The horrific reality of what my captor was doing cut into my soul with each second that I remained in this cave, but still, I could not bring myself to fight. Each wound on my body seared, a reminder of what she may be suffering. I pictured the same marks being put upon her skin, and nearly vomited. When I closed my eyes, she was there, bloodied and bruised. And, fuck, if ever given the chance, I would ensure they all paid.

I tried to imagine any path in which she escaped. I prayed to the Spirits that I was not even sure I believed in, If any of you are lurking nearby, please help her. But it was futile. She was powerful, I’d never deny that, but she was one girl against an onslaught of soldiers and my captors themselves. I didn’t see how she could win.

Would they let me see her when they were done? Let me say all those things I left unsaid?

Angels, why the fuck had she come here? She was supposed to be safe.

With a painful shudder, I wondered which moment would be the one in which she drew her last breath.

Footsteps echoed down the passage stretching before the mouth of my cave, quieter than usual. The bearer lighter—or stealthier.

A shadow-shrouded figure emerged from a hidden corridor halfway between where I hung and where that orange glow permeated the air. I braced myself, chains above my head clinking, and fought the slackening muscles in my neck. I may be chained, broken in every sense, but I would not show them how mangled my heart was.

I would look this guard in the face as they enacted their torture on me, and pray that they struck that final blow. Taunt them into it if need be. Anything to end this existence, because it no longer felt like a life.

Through my clouded vision, this guard looked smaller than the rest. Feminine. She did not seem familiar, though the shadows made it hard to tell. Clinging to the wall, she turned to look over her shoulder every few feet as if confused or disoriented.

This was the best they could do? I sighed.

My blood didn’t quicken as she moved closer, and I realized I wasn’t scared of what happened next. This guard didn’t have the same bravado as the others. Even if she did, my body had grown so numb, I likely wouldn’t feel anything. A twisted ghost of a smile split my lips—perhaps I could die peacefully.

She prowled through the shadows, seemingly unaware of my presence in the dim cave, but each step the guard took stirred a slumbering energy in my core.

A warm breeze drifted down the passage, a familiar scent floating on it, wrapping around me. It was a memory I had used daily to ignore the reek of my own blood—jasmine tangling with the crisp night air. My body welcomed it, a bouquet of everything that was good in the world, but I shook it off.

It is not real, I reminded myself. My mind was toying with me in this last desperate hour, conjuring fantasies of my deepest desires and fears. Falling victim to their tricks would only leave me more vulnerable.

Then, the scent shifted, and it became slightly wrong. Punctuated with a harsher undertone of ash and copper.

---