“Yes,” he answers, a cruel smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. “Veils who were power hungry. Who wanted their manifestations without limits. Light wielders who dabbled in dark magic, attempting to create a dark object for their personal use.” He nods his head at my horrified expression. “They wanted a way to prevent burnout and have the ability to wield their gods-given manifestation without restraint.”
I drop my gaze to the floor.
“That’s impossible. Veils can’t create or use dark objects,” I mutter, more to myself than Eryk.
“Well, technically, they can,” he answers cryptically. “With consequences.”
I shake my head again in denial. This isn’t plausible.
He sighs like he’s disappointed with me. “Why do you think Casacia kept getting attacked? Yes, we tried to keep it from thegeneral population, but evidently, it’s impossible to keep things completely under wraps. The iron. The wraiths want iron, Nori.”
He claps his hands together to get my attention. I raise my eyes to meet his manic ones. “The city is rich in minerals,especiallyiron. Lacking Noctryn blood for the process, they double up on the iron, add their own blood to create the dark object, and use a malediction they create. But as you can see by Frederick’s appearance, it comes with slight disadvantages.” He looks over at the wraith and winces.
The wraith bristles in the corner, clearly not liking being the topic of our conversation.
“Why would they do this, knowing the consequences?” I ask, lifting my chin and holding his stare.
“Because each one believes that they’re the exception. Their thirst for power blinds them, and we use that to our advantage. They become the general’s personal army to annihilate the threat of powerful Noctryns from the realm,” he says, his boots dragging small trenches in the sand. “The dark wielders that want to dethrone the Porters from running Salaryan. Keeping order and preventing chaos. We’ve used them for centuries throughout my family’s rule,” he adds, glancing at the wraith again. “We allow them to target particular cities to get the needed ingredients,” he supplies, a smug smile resting on his lips. “And they’re too dumb to realize it.”
“Why would they do anything for the general if they already have a death sentence?”
The dark chuckle that escapes him raises the hair on my arms. “Because, dear Norissa, we’ve been working for centuries to find the cure, and we’re close. So, so close. Once we can cure them, we can control them, and they’ll last longer than they do in the forms of wraiths.”
“People would notice loved ones missing. They wouldn’t just disappear without someone noticing.”
“The general is good at fabricating deceit and false charges. They simply disappear to serve a life sentence,” he gloats, like it’s the most brilliant plan ever thought of.
I bite my lip and tilt my head. “Why are you telling me all of this?”
His smile slowly spreads, and his empty eyes narrow in satisfaction.
I laugh softly, nodding my head in clear understanding.
He doesn’t plan for me to ever leave this pit.
“You see, Nori, the Noctryns are a defiant lot. They buck against authority and don’t particularly like being told what to do. The insolence never left their blood.”
My ears perk up at his last sentence, but before I can focus on it, the door opens again.
Two more cloaked figures, hoods pulled back, walk quickly in our direction, boots loud on the hard stone of the doorway. I recognize one instantly by the hatred shining in her eyes, but the other I’ve never seen before.
The air shifts as they walk up to Eryk, his attention thankfully moving from me to them.
The approaching man pats Eryk on the shoulder. “Eryk, don’t be so humble. You forgot to mention the blood of the Liminals on your family’s hands throughout the centuries,” he says, his voice cheery and loud throughout the open area.
“That’s confidential, you imbecile,” Eryk replies angrily.
The man just responds by squeezing Eryk’s shoulders in a condescending way. “Relax, it’s not like it’s going to leave this pit.” He laughs under his breath. “Say, how many Liminals has your family murdered over the past seven hundred years?”
Eryk grips the front of the man’s shirt. “That’s enough,” he growls.
The man, taller than Eryk and thicker, steps back, raising both hands in mock defeat.
I stare at Yaretta, and she stares back. She hasn’t stopped staring since she first entered.
Eryk shoves the man away and turns his full attention back to me. “Now, where were we?” he asks, rubbing his hands together. “Ah, yes,” he bursts out, unable to contain his excitement. “Time to play.”
He walks up to the bars, whistling under his breath while he removes a key from his pocket, and quickly unlocks the cell. Hard, jagged rocks dig into the back of my skull as I hug the wall. It’s three against one. Four, if you count Franklin. I’m starting to accept the chance of ever leaving this cell is slim to none, but I’ll go down fighting. I won’t make it easy on them.
