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Chapter Twenty-Two
Jude
Arlo crafted the world with his own two hands. Every bloom, cave, and mountain peak, he fashioned with care, delighting in the simple act of creating. While at times, he is known to be a benevolent god, Arlo does not design anything without purpose—even if that purpose is chaos.
Excerpt from Asidian Lore: A Tale of the Gods
My steed’s hooves dragged in the dirt, the horse rightfully apprehensive to enter the cave that must have inspired the gates to the underworld.
It was a vacuous pit of nothingness, the slender branches of the trees twining wickedly about its giant maw.
I couldn’t say with certainty that once I entered, I would ever return.
Carter relinquished his torch to me.
“Keep your wits about you,” I warned the group, kicking into the side of my steed with the heel of my polished boot. The black stallion jerked ahead, fearless in the face of the beckoning emptiness.
My head swam with doubts, but I forced myself to move forward, passing beneath the rocky mouth of the cave.
One after the other, the group followed me into the obscurity, the narrow pathway just wide enough to accommodate one rider at a time. If I balanced on my horse’s back, I’d be able to graze the jagged ceiling, which dipped and rose like a midnight wave.
We’d all been born and raised in darkness, but this was an entirely new level of black. Even with the few torches we carried, the voracious shadows ate away at my skin. My resolve.
The air was thick in my lungs, a moldy and putrid stench clogging my nostrils, the smell akin to a decomposing animal. But it was more than the smell and the churning of my stomach that had my hands trembling—
It was what I felt awaken inside my core.
A vicious heat sparked across the expanse of my chest, a flutter of something old and foreign and wholly destructive.
It was gone with a shaky exhale, the familiar icy dread settling back into my veins.
I swallowed the rising bile.
Nerves. It had to be nerves at coming back to this wretched place.
I repeated it over and over again like a twisted mantra. But it was still there—thatfeeling—as we progressed further past the point of no return.
I reached into my pocket and peeked at the silver timepiece Isiah had gifted me two seasons ago, the wordsTrust in the Starsetched into the back. It wasn’t too late in the day, which meant we had hours of traveling yet to do. Shivers racked my frame at the thought, as enclosed spaces often sent my pulse hammering.
Knives and blood did nothing to rile me, but trap me in a small space and cold sweat would line my brow.
I wished for a distraction,anydistraction, but there wasn’t much to look at but the vacant darkness ahead. Before the panic could overcome me, I forced myself to inspect the tunnel, focusing on every minuscule detail. Lifting my torch, I took in the roughened walls embracing us, observing them to be a shade of ash and scorched earth, the uneven surface jagged and spiked.
Tipping my head back, I followed the path of the swirling, vein-like designs decorating the ceiling like wilted flowers, the inky hue shimmering a blue-black color as the lights passed beneath. They were dazzling in a ghoulish way, some of the swirls and curving lines bringing to mind the intricate roots of a Midnight Bloom.
I passed the time this way, silently observing and trying not to overthink everything, as Kiara had playfully instructed, when a fork in the path appeared a few hours later.
I raised my hand, indicating the rest to slow.
Two tunnels.
Reaching into my pockets, I retrieved the tattered map Cirian had provided. It was ancient, the ink faded on the page. With care, I unfolded it and brought it inches from the torch I carried in my other hand.
Shit.
Both tunnels led to less-than-ideal routes.
One would take us to a wide river, but the journey beyond it looked easy enough.
