Page 29 of What Beats Within the Tunnels

Colton leans back, gazing into the distance as if recalling memories. “It is, but it’s also rewarding. The Dream Forest is alive, ever-changing, and I’ve learned to adapt with it. Plus, I have allies and friends who help me. The Pixies you mentioned? They’re more than just magical creatures. They’re watchers, guardians of the forest. They often alert me if there’s an intruder or if something is amiss.”

“I wish I could see it one day,” I murmur.

Colton leans in, his voice a mere whisper, “And perhaps, one day, you will.” I smile at that, a nice idea.

I shake off the thought. “Do you think my father would want to reclaim his rule over Cloudrum now that the bridge is accessible?”

His eyes study mine for a moment. “He hasn’t given any indication of such intentions. But with Samael gone, you know the crown technically falls to you.”

I shake my head. “Not yet. I can’t ascend to the throne until after my nineteenth birthday. Our traditions dictate that we can’t rule until we fully inherit our powers. By now, I assume the council has stepped in.”

He frowns, leaning forward. “That’s absurd.”

Brushing a stray hair behind my ear, I reply, “Whether it’s absurd or not, I don’t desire the throne at the moment. Even if it’s my birthright, I’m not sure I ever want it.”

He places a reassuring hand on my arm. “You don’t have to decide anything now. When the time comes, I believe you’ll be an exceptional queen. For now, I’ll stick with calling you ‘Princess.’ It has a more charming ring to it.” His smirk grows broader, eliciting an eye roll from me.

With a playful pout, I say, “Honestly, I’d rather live in the Dream Forest, surrounded by its enchanting inhabitants.” A yawn escapes me, betraying my exhaustion.

He chuckles, standing up. “Alright, Your Highness, it’s evident you’ve had your fill of wine and conversation. Let’s get you to bed.” As I try to stand, the room tilts, and I waver, but Colton’s arm is there in an instant, grounding me. With a simple gesture, he extinguishes the candles, casting the room into dimness. Making my way to the bed, I shed my restricting attire and quickly slip into something more comfortable.

Soon, we’re settled under the covers, the comfort of the bed cradling us both. Colton as always is careful to keep his distance in the bed, and something inside me wishes to be closer to him. Maybe it’s the alcohol, but I scoot closer to him, and he raises his arm, making room for me. I rest my cheek against his chest, and he brings his arm around me, holding me close. The contact causes a warm feeling to spread over my body, and a rightness to settle in my chest, but as I drift off to sleep something nags in the back of my mind — a feeling of betrayal.

“Come on, get yourself right. You’re never going to be ready if you sleep all day.”

Athalda’s voice pierces through my sleep, yanking me back to consciousness. My eyes flutter open, adjusting to the dim light, and I’m met with her piercing black eyes and face marred by scars. The bed beside me is empty—the warmth of Colton’s body, which I now question whether it was real or a figment of a dream, is absent. My head throbs, and as I frantically scan the room for Chepi, I find his spot vacant too.

Before anxiety can entirely consume me, Athalda’s sharp voice cuts through, “Your new friend took Chepi with him. They’re both alright. Now, up and at ‘em. You’re my responsibility for the day.”

Hastily, I dress, choosing a white tunic similar to yesterday’s attire. A flurry of questions storms my mind. Why did Colton take Chepi? Where could they possibly be? I try shaking off the disappointment I feel about waking alone. And as thoughts of the night prior wash over me — the warmth, the closeness, the comfort – guilt gnaws at me. Nyx is probably missing me, worried about me, and I’ve fallen asleep wrapped in the arms of his adversary. What am I doing? It doesn’t matter, because I told him we’re done.

“Enough daydreaming! Your boots, now!” Athalda’s voice is as impatient as ever. I slide my boots on and trudge behind her, my steps heavy with apprehension.

“Where are we headed? What’s Colton up to with Chepi?”

Her voice carries an air of mystery, “Don’t concern yourself with them. Today’s all about you.” She briefly turns, her gaze falling on the empty wine bottles strewn across the table, and smirks. “It’s going to be a very, very long day for you.”

I pull myself together, trying to brush my tangled hair into submission. How I wish Colton had woken me earlier, allowing me a moment of privacy and a chance to bathe before Athalda’s abrupt intrusion. Despite the whirlwind of emotions, one thing is clear – I trust Colton. The realization settles effortlessly, surprising even myself.

As we continue on, the wear and decay become more apparent as we reach the other side of the palace. Before long, Athalda ushers me into a room, the very room we overheard her and my father in yesterday. Contrary to my assumption of it being her personal chamber, the room reveals itself to be some kind of ritualistic haven or sacred den.

The scent of sage and burning wax fills the air as I step into the room. My gaze is immediately drawn to an altar adorned with crystals and scrolls, encircled by flickering candles and plush pillows. By the window stands a long table, laden with drying herbs and a mortar containing an unknown mixture. On the opposite side, floor-to-ceiling shelves overflow with ancient books, mystical artifacts, pouches, and charms.

“What is this place?” I wonder aloud.

“This,” she says, her tone ominous, “is where we practice dark magic.” I feel a surge of alarm. “You can wipe that look off your face. You think you’ll be ready to inherit such magic without any practice?” She scowls, motioning around the room.

“Is this what’s causing the decay in this side of the palace?” I ask.

She tilts her head, her eyes glinting mysteriously. “Among other things,” she replies. “Now take a seat. It’s time to get started.” I hesitantly sit across from her on one of the pillows surrounding the low table. There’s at least a dozen different crystals spread across the table placed on top of velvety cloth and pieces of parchment. “Do you find yourself drawn to any of these?”

She slowly passes her hand over the table of crystals. I want to ask her why, but I know better, so instead I look over the table and find I’m drawn to one in particular. I can’t explain it, but I have an urge to pick it up and feel it in my hand, against my skin, but I resist. I point at the crystal, rich burgundy blending seamlessly with sparkly black pieces.

Athalda meets my gaze with her piercing black eyes. “To understand the power you are to inherit, you must see through the eyes of those who wielded it before. This crystal holds the essence of past dark Sorcerers. In theory, you should be able to experience a fragment of their power, their struggles, and their triumphs.”

“In theory?” I question.

“I’ve been reading about it in ancient grimoires, but none of these crystals have shown me anything. I believe the dark essence will recognize you and reveal itself only to you,” she says, and I find myself intrigued and terrified at the same time. “My suspicions are already proving true, because you are drawn to the very crystal the last dark Sorcerer owned. I feel no inclination toward it or any of them.”