Page 117 of The Nymph King

The massive doors swung open with a deep groan, revealing a grand expanse of space that seemed to stretch into eternity. The ceilings were a tapestry of intricate arches and soaring vaults, the craftsmanship of a long-lost era. Every column, every arch, every detail was in perfect condition, as if time itself had stood still within these walls. The group moved along the sightlines, guided by the magnetic pull of the core of the building, the beating heart of a forgotten kingdom.

Meira practically vibrated with urgency. Her hand flew to her chest again, her breaths short and shallow as the pull intensified.

The corridors shrank and merged into a single straight path, leaving no room for detours. The air thickened as the space contracted, culminating at a sealed door at the end of the hall.

Esa lifted a hand, stopping them short.

Thick, overlapping bands of wards extended outward, blending ancient magic with recent, potent spells. Power flowed through the stone.

Kiran, Imani thought. Her heart fluttered at the thought of him being here, and the shadows reacted before she consciously called them back, pooling thicker around her feet.

Imani drew in a breath and fixed her attention on the damaged wards. The shadows were always available to her; the danger came when emotion started directing them before judgment could. She forced the anticipation surrounding Kiran into a single purpose, and the dark mass constricted into controlled strands.

Pushing those shadows into the fissures Esa and Lore had opened, her Drasil advanced with them, its raw strength breaking apart more layered barriers one by one.

Esa attacked the outer layer first, and Lore moved with her before she gave him any instruction. Her wand struck one seam while his magic landed against the adjoining point at almost the same instant, the two spells meeting exactly where the ward was weakest.

A violent pulse rebounded from the stone. Lore caught Esa by the forearm and pulled her half a step toward him before the magic could strike her full in the chest. Her shoulder hit his, and for a moment neither moved away.

“I had it,” Esa muttered.

“You did not.”

She looked up at him, annoyance flashing across her face. “You seem very invested in whether I get myself killed.”

Lore’s hand remained around her arm a fraction longer than necessary. “Someone has to be.”

Esa’s mouth parted, whatever reply she had prepared disappearing before it reached her tongue. Then she pulled free and turned back toward the wards.

“Left seam,” she said.

Lore was already aiming there.

Her Drasil advanced, its raw strength breaking apart the layered barriers one by one. Resistance escalated to a scream, the last layer straining and finally breaking under pressure.

Kiran’s magic collapsed.

Imani pushed the doors open. They swung open to reveal a throne room.

Does he want us to find whatever was here?

She didn’t know, but the question made her scalp prickle.

CHAPTER 36

There was no time to question Kiran’s motives.

With a whoosh, the door flew open to a throne room of vast, unbroken scale. Stone columns lined its length, and the floor remained whole and untouched as if no one had ever left it. Movement stalled as the group stepped inside, the weight of it settling through the room in a single, heavy beat. And at the center of it all, the raised judgment dais stood as a symbol of unquestionable power and authority—and it was occupied.

Saevel sat bound to the throne, heavy chains locked across his chest, arms, and legs. Tendons bulged as his muscles strained, and his body bore the marks of confinement. He looked weary and aged, but his magic signature swirled around him in an angry fog.

From his skull, black obsidian had grown upward and outward, forming the jagged crown that broke through flesh and bone, its presence absolute, its claim undeniable.

He was immense and dangerous. Like a king.

Despite his chains, Saevel was built on a scale that made the throne seem smaller beneath him. His dark hair had grown long enough to fall untidily around his temples and brush the back of his neck, framing green eyes that remained startlingly alert despite the exhaustion carved into his face. A hard-cut jaw and full mouth gave him the same wild beauty Imani knew too well, but the resemblance ended there. Saevel was broader in the shoulders and chest, with heavier arms. Indeed, his entire frame was built with a brute physical power Kiran did not possess.

But once Imani saw it, she could not unsee the blood between them.