“What do you say? For old times' sake?”
“Don't stay away so long next time,” Elan says, his voice rough with emotion. “Your people need their true king now more than ever.”
I nod solemnly. “I know.”
Elan faces the obsidian barrier, fingers tracing ancient patterns in the air. Sparks leap from his fingertips to the runes carved intovolcanic stone. They flare gold, then fade as the seal parts. Cold air rushes down from above, chilling me to the bone.
“After you,” Byzu gestures toward the opening.
“When did you last see the surface?” I ask, placing my foot on the first step.
“The day Draethys was sealed,” he answers.
“You never snuck up with the supply runners? Not once?”
Byzu shakes his head. “I considered it. But the world above left me… bitter. I swore never to return, then grew nostalgic. Eventually I feared that seeing it might awaken something in me like what drives Anees.”
“A sudden urge to overthrow father and invade the surface?”
“I would never,” he bristles.
Despite everything, I smile. “Maybe that’s true. You were never really the brains in the family.”
Byzu's jaw slackens as we emerge. “Gods above,” he whispers.
A lot has changed, and the supply tunnel has brought us to a land that looked completely different than when we first descended. Ahead, another realm rises. I watch his face as he takes in the surface world for the first time in centuries. His eyes dart between the gleaming towers in the distance—their blue and silver flags marking clearblood territory—and the vast expanse of sky overhead.
“Different from your memories?” I ask, scanning our surroundings for any sign of movement.
The Woods of Cephalis loom behind us, a wall of white-barked aspens with leaves trembling between ruby and burnt orange. Something whispers from the shadows between trunks.
Byzu's fingers brush the air as if touching a memory. “Cephalis endures. Though smaller than I recall.”
“They wouldn't dare fell it entirely,” I reply. “The forest serves both sides too well as neutral ground. Neither darkblood nor clearblood can claim its favor, which makes it the perfect border.”
The ground seals itself beneath us: obsidian slabs sliding into place, golden runes flaring once before soil and sparse wildflowers conceal them completely.
“Elan better survive whatever Anees has planned,” Byzu says, his expression darkening.
I shake my head. “Our brother needs him. Those tunnels are important access points.”
“Then what's our next move?” Byzu's question hangs in the crisp air between us.
“Give me a moment.”
I close my eyes and let my senses expand outward, searching for any trace of her. My pulse quickens as I reach for that familiar connection. Nothing nearby. She probably escaped along the same route Brynn and Chad used.
“The Salt Flats,” I say.
Byzu frowns. “And those are...?”
“Across the continent.”
If that fails, we head for Darkbirch.
This isn’t preference or even priority. It’s survival.
Something vital’s been cut loose. Every breath feels thinner, every thought hazy before it forms, like part of me is still with her.
