I held my breath as the three collectively paused, tilting their hooded heads. Jeroah angled his head, sniffing the air.
“Starfire,” the Scourger hissed. “Asmotheus, do you smell it, too?”
Rot. The heads of the Scourgers turned to my direction. I reigned in my powers as much as possible, trying to stifle them so there was no trail. No scent. Starfire could smell sweet, making one heady. I had to cloak it, or else I was dead. The Scourgers turned, looking dead at me, but not seeing me.
“Who hides in the shadows?” Asmotheus asked, sliding forward.
Shadows.
Shadows.
Desperate, I raced across the bond. Quazar’s end was still wide open. I rushed into his pool of shadows, drowning myself in the well. I prayed to the Infinite that his shadows were enough to overpower my starfire and remove any trace of me from being spotted. I could feel my body growing cold. My powers getting muted. Could feel myself slipping into the shadows, almostbecomingshadows.
I stayed pressed against the blood stained stone, perfectly hidden in the dark. Asmotheus sniffed the air again.
“Gone. A trick of the dark.”
“Cruel trick. I love the taste of starfire.”
“I want the newest Anathelle.”
“Can’t. The Dark King wants her to himself.”
The Scourgers turned away, gliding down the path into a darkened corridor. They opened one of the cell doors which contained a screaming male. The stench of fire and ash waftedfrom the chamber. The male shrieked, hanging from his ruined wings, begging for mercy as the Scourgers slipped inside. Before the door to the chamber closed all the way, I heard the male scream loud as an audible breaksnappedin the air.
A wave of nausea almost bowled me. I wanted to vomit at all the various forms of torture taking place around me. This was an Infinite-forsaken place and I needed to get out of here. I was about to go back the way I came, when I heard a cold, cruel, and familiar voice.
“Anathelle’s have always been breakable, wouldn’t you agree, Papi?”
I felt numb.
No way. It couldn’t be.
The voice had filtered up from a level below. Keeping to the shadows, a sudden urgency in my gait, I made it around the circular platform. Keeping to the shadows and away from the crimson lit torches, I began rushing down the stairs, careful to make sure the satchel made no noise. Thanks to Quazar’s shadows, my own bodily shadow was still muted.
I made it down the level and rushed to the wall, pressing myself against it so I wouldn’t be caught. There was a cell directly across, with the door hanging ajar. I couldn’t see the entire chamber.
But I could see the female hanging from the chains inside. She was smaller, her hair hanging limp, drenched in her own golden blood. She’d been broken many times over. Her arms hung from the chains at odd angles. Her foot was bent strangely. And her wings.
Stars.
Her wings.
They’d been shredded. Every talon had been broken. She had open wounds all along her stomach, her chest. She was covered in bruises, her brown skin looking nearly purple with how badlyshe’d been beaten. Her quiet whimpering told me she was still alive. From the looks of it, she’d been tortured for hours. Stars. She’d probably been tortured for dawns on end if she was in this condition.
Close to the open door was a Farasee and Disciple I’d recognize anywhere. Their golden hair shone like the burning sun. Their strong, broad shoulders were wide with their pride. Both had hands covered in gold blood. I had a strong feeling the blood had come from the female.
“Maybe Safah Anathelle will finally take the hint. This temple is no place for her,” Tharic was saying. Cruelty lined every inch of his proud face. He was handsome in a dangerously horrifying way. His bright golden eyes glittered with bloodlust as he grinned at Farasee Kaelthos.
I noticed a deep scar across Tharic’s neck. And the new lines, like splintered fissures, on his cheek. Wounds a Raephim had somehow not healed. I wondered if he got those from Quazar when he tried to get into my bedchamber while I was recovering from being butchered by the Scourgers as a…lesson.
“Don’t mind yourself about that brat. We don’t have to do anything with her. Give it enough time and Asarah will break the little buckling herself.”
Buckling.
My cheeks burned at the hideous insult. I found myself about to take a step forward, when I saw the female in the chamber had shifted her face. She angled her head, spitting up a wad of blood so thick it made me sick. Then she lifted her purple eyes and found mine in the dark. She’d been beaten so badly I almost didn’t recognize her.
But when I did, the ground slipped from beneath my feet.
