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Five hands shot into the air.
Kai nodded, facing the iron gate that arched above us, separating the Damned Realm from Hell—as well as a giant swath of Lucifer’s shadow magic. In scrolling text, the archway above us read ALL INSIDE ARE DAMNED.
We were already cursed, the clock ticking dangerously low on the time we had left. And we'd foundnothingto break the curse on us. How long until we killed each other? Two weeks? One?
I swallowed, squeezing Haley’s hand.
My stomach knotted when Wynvail led the way silently through the gate. I put one foot in front of the other, carrying me into the realm where my own father killed me. I would have thrown up if it wasn't for Haley's hand keeping me grounded. I focused on the warm, calloused texture of her skin, filling my entire awareness with her touch so the thoughts trying to dominate my mind failed to gain a foothold.
Don't think about Wane, or blood. Don't think about your father and uncle. Don't hear your own pleas for mercy and a reprieve. Don't hear their barked commands to shut the fuck up. Don't hear Wane's sobs—and worse, his silence.
There were moments when I was sure they'd finally killed him.
Haley squeezed my hand, and I was back in the Damned Realm, baring my teeth at the past and digging my heels into the present.
"We'll get him," she promised me, rubbing her thumb over my knuckles. "No matter how long it takes, Buttercup. I swear we’ll find him.."
"I know," I murmured, and I did know. I just couldn't shake the crushing fear that it would take years to track him down. "I want to talk to Wynvail."
I tried to pull my hand from hers, but Haley’s fingers tightened and she pulled me closer until my side aligned with hers as we walked.
"So, we'll talk to him," she said. I didn't miss thewein that statement.
Wynvail slowed, like he'd heard his name, and confirmed it when he threw me a questioning glance. Something moved behind his eyes, an emotion I couldn't place, something like uncertainty or wariness.
"How do you know Wane is here?" I asked him, trying to sound neutral when inside I was a mess of feelings. I hated him, but he was family and a victim so I accepted him. I wanted to get to know him more, wanted to know how he'd ended up as the master of the pit, but I didn't want to hear about his traumatic childhood.
I wanted to know him and I was scared of it, both at once.
"I've been to this place before," Wynvail replied, casting a look around the realm as the sparse black grassland near the gates became small houses, most barely more than shacks. There was a river of suffering here, I knew. I'd smelled it when we were led in last time, from a different direction. "When I was first—"
"First what?" Haley pressed when he cut off, a muscle feathering in his jaw.
"He doesn't have to tell us," I cut in, my stomach tangling with sickness. Iknewthat pause, that struggle to force the words out. This was confirmation; hehadbeen hurt, too. In the same way as us, or in different ways? "Go on," I prompted Wynvail with as much kindness as I could muster.
"I was brought here to Cronus's house, but nobody calls him by name—they're too afraid to say anything other thanhimandthe titan.It's—I can't describe what it's like inside. You can't breathe properly, and you're scared to even blink wrong or Cronus will have you slaughtered for fun. I saw him … eat a woman. He grew to ten times his regular size and just—ate her."
"Shit," Haley breathed, gripping my hand tighter.
My stomach turned over. What if he'd eaten Wane, and we were too late?
The small, broken down houses grew closer together. These were two storeys tall, but still ramshackle and bleak, made of grimy wood with open holes for windows and gaps in the roofs. Like whoever made this realm wanted to torture them with the appearance of shelter, but leave them cold and miserable.
No wonder Cronus had chosen this place; it fit him perfectly.
"And I heard people talking about some of Cronus's prisoners—his pets," Wynvail went on, anger threaded through his sleek voice, roughening it around the edges. "One prisoner was his favourite, the most powerful—his shadow."
His pets.
Those two words echoed through my head, loud enough to block out whatever Haley said, to silence the cry of Emlyn's eagle as he shifted and soared above us, scouting our surroundings.
Wane was no one's pet. He was his own damn person, and the thought of anything else made me sick.
My hearing returned in time to hear Wynvail say, "There's no guarantee he's still here. That was a long time ago."
His eyes were on me, heavy silver, rife with an emotion he was trying to hide. I was too scared to dare to decipher it.
But I ran through everything he'd said, his entire horrific story, and paused on one point.
