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“The afterlife,” I say without taking my gaze off the lifeless eyes watching me below the surface.
“Yes. I may be the God of Darkness, but I cannot go to the afterlife, for I cannot take souls that are already dead.”
“Can’t the Liminal Stone give you access to the afterlife?”
The muscles in the side of his jaw pop and his nostrils flare when I look at him. “Mm. The Stone I forged that you so kindly destroyed. The one that burst with the level of power you created when it amplified two Gods’ bloodlines. And now, the crown is not even whole. That Stone is moot.” A tendril of his shadow lifts my chin in a firm grip, forcing my eyes to remain on his. “I don’t need any souls from the afterlife; there is only one left I need.”
“What do I need to do?” The floral scents mix with the metallic and makes the air thick on my tongue, getting lodged in my throat when I swallow.
“Before you go after Prince Draven, you will complete another task to prove to me you can handle capturing the prince.” His eyes regard me as I steel my spine. “You must first bring me a male who slipped through the fingers of death and escaped my power. Show me that you are the daughter of darkness, even outside of this realm.”
CHAPTER FOUR
Draven
“Try again,” Fynn’s steady voice of calm is trying to wash away the burning rage igniting inside me.
I close my eyes and concentrate once more. All I see is pure darkness, but my other senses awaken. The chirping of birds can be heard in the distance, the rustling of leaves from the wind, and the gentle creak of branches singing together in a swaying song.
The solid earth beneath my feet grounds me and the scent of pine drifts from the towering trees. I inhale the dense, foggy air and allow it to fill my lungs until it stings.
In one long, drawn-out breath, I reach down to the bond resting in my chest. To penetrate deeper within to break through the barrier and pray I fucking feel something. To find the tether that connects to the other end.
To find my heart.
My mate.
Emma.
But all I brush against is a cold, stone wall, shutting me out from her. No sense of where she’s at, or what she’s feeling. If she’s even fucking alive. That thought alone—of the God of Darkness slitting her throat, or consuming her soul, and of her dying all alone—is killing me.
My chest cracks and it snaps that final thread holding back my rage. The growl that erupts from me vibrates the ground beneath my boots, shaking the trees and causing hundreds of wings to beat against the wind. I slam against that impenetrable wall blocking her from me, desperately wanting to crumble it to dust.
I know if we were officially bonded through the ritual, I would feel her ripped from this world with insurmountable pain if her heart stopped beating. For she would take mine with her. Only, we aren’t fully bonded. And I’m not sure how it would feel if she were dead right now since I haven’t been able to feel her these past months. None of this makes sense to me and it's driving me deeper into madness with the fear that I will never know what happened to her if we can’t find her.
I pound against the wall once more, grinding my teeth while infusing my power with it so strongly that the impact makes my head feel light. I snap my eyes open, momentarily blinded by the soft glow reflecting through the clouds as I sway on my feet.
“Whoa there, Drav, take it easy.” Fynn’s hand clasps my shoulder firmly to help steady me. “You’ve been at this since dawn and it’s already midday. You’ve barely slept more than a couple hours each day. You need to eat something and take a break.”
My hands shove into my hair, clutching the dark strands in a tight grip. “It’s been three fucking months, Fynn!” My voice bellows out louder than I intended, but I can’t take it back now. So, I try again, speaking more softly. “We should have found her already.”
He releases my shoulders and crosses his arms over his chest. “We will find her, but you need to take care of yourself as well, or there won’t be a you to rescue Emma. You will wither away or fall into a damn coma from exhaustion. Neither of those options include getting Emma back.”
He’s right. He’s so fucking right, and I want to punch him for it. But how can I sit around and rest when she’s out there somewhere? How am I supposed to sleep when I close my eyes and see her frozen, void eyes staring blankly back at me? The last time I saw her, she was consumed by the dark power. Her blood ran black in her veins. And when I stared deeply into her eyes, I could practically see how it hardened her soul.
My hands begin to shake as I think about every night when sleep evades me. Those nights I spend scouring every court, hunting down every Seer I can find and have them all do the same thing. To try and find her with a fragment of the necklace that blasted off her neck. It holds the final remnants of her essence from the small stain of red that decorates it. Meaning she got hurt when it fell off, and I’m hoping she didn’t feel it once her powers surged forth. Because then I imagine her not only leaving but doing so in pain. Yet each Seer I locate comes up with the same outcome…nothing. They can’t find a single trace of her anywhere.
Grunts and clashing metal tear through my thoughts. I spin and see Cora and Kye practicing her fighting, which she has been determined to master. She almost didn’t make it out alive in the Court of Ashes, but Fynn transported her to our healer, Galeana, who worked all night using her powers to clot and stitch Cora’s abdomen back together. Then, she placed Cora into a deep sleep for another two weeks to keep her body still to finish healing on its own. All three of us took turns sitting by her bed, but it was Fynn who took longer shifts and barely rested. Hypocritical bastard.
Cora was distraught when she finally woke up. Frantic to know where Emma was when her eyes bounced around the three of us standing over her bed. Fynn was the one to sit beside her, grab her hand, and break the news. She stayed holed up in her bed and cried for another week.
Then, one day, she stormed out with fists of determination and demanded to be taught how to fight. To help bring Emma home.
Home.
It’s funny how this is home now for the lot of us. Not my court per se, but us, together. Yet, we all know why it feels broken. Nothing will feel fully complete until her silver eyes are looking into my soul while she spits words that pierce me with her sharp tongue.
I watch Cora spin, then duck under Kye’s sword swinging over her head before she kicks up with her boot. The move connects with his chest and knocks him back a couple steps. Beside me, an amused huff leaves Fynn. “She’s a natural.”
