Vale’s eyes flicked to his, concern heavy in their depths. Graves shook his head slightly as he brushed past the King, stopping just long enough for his shoulder to bump into Vale’s side.
Graves murmured, low and raw, "I can’t stay here. I need space." The words were ripped from inside him.
Vale searched his eyes. "Go. I won’t let them come after you."
Gratitude filled him.
Graves’s steps were sure as he left Vale’s den, ignoring Luella’s curious look thrown his way, the soft question she mumbled to the others in that sweet voice of hers, "Where is he going?"
"To get some air," Bastian answered.
Their voices tapered off as he ventured deeper into the cavernous halls of the den. Most were large enough for a dragon, but some were small, private. That was where the male went.
His fingers clutched at the amulet around his neck—a gift from Tharen from all those years ago when…
"Fuck," Graves roared, the curse echoing against the rocky walls. He couldn’t think about it.
His back itched with the desire to let his wings free—an ache he’d buried for centuries, along with everything else that made him who he was.
Seeing Luella and her pure white wings and the way they shivered, as if yearning for his touch… it made him want to break free of the chains that he had shackled himself with. The secrets he had wrapped around him like a cloak.
His feet led him to the salt air that tickled his tongue, chasing after the hint of the sea and open air. He didn’t want to be encased in a fucking tomb of grey rock.
His heart galloped in his chest, a thundering roar in his ears, as finally—finally—he spied the sky.
The tunnel he had chosen opened up to the sea and open air and night.
More than just the absence of sun made the light so dim; Luella’s storm raged over the lands. The clouds were so thick and dark that he wondered if they would suffocate them all. He had wanted to be free, but even now, he was not free of her. She was all around, everywhere, haunting him.
But Graves found, if he were to be suffocated, if those clouds would let free a storm that would drown them all, he would want it to be by her hand.
Whatever was coming had been etched into the fabric of their lives since before time was a thought. Those wings on that note… Graves knew it was only the beginning of their journey.
They couldn’t go back to the castle. They could only venture forward and chase after the prophecy, defeat the Tenebrae, and rid them all of the Umbra. Still, the thought of what Tharen had said before he had fled made Graves feel deep dreadand melancholy, sending shivers down his spine as the wind whipped against his skin and rustled his hair.
Standing on the cliffside, staring down at the dark abyss of the ocean, Graves uttered a secret for only he, the ocean, and the air, "I don’t want to go back."
9
MAKE IT RIGHT
LUELLA
Luella was tugged through the darkened halls of the castle.
Her arms were bound behind her, coarse rope cutting into her wrists. Her bare feet stumbled over the floor, slick with hot, fresh blood. She winced.
The male before her was cloaked in shadows. Large. He led her forward with an iron-like grip—past destruction, past violence, past… suffering.
Weeping filled the castle, mingling with the sounds of war and death.
Screams.
Loud, wailing screams.
She didn’t want to be here. Please, make it stop—make it stop.
Her ears rang, feet slipping over the slick blood pooling on the floor.
