by Bailey Dark
“I take this curse from you, as I take your blood,” Verity says, a wicked gleam in her eyes.
The dagger plunges toward me and I roll to the side, narrowly missing the blade. Heat flushes through me like a fever and I wince in pain as the sudden movement aggravates the cuts in my chest. I stare at her, at the knife she tried to drive into my chest. She’s fuzzy, but I can see the snarl on her lips. I leap to my feet, the world swaying and tipping around me with magic. Before she can rise, I dart into the shadows of the darkened city, desperate to escape her.
“Altair!” She screams angrily.
I run faster, heart pounding wildly as I follow the twists and turns of the ancient alleys far away. My body is slow and sluggish, and I feel the curse taking hold. She didn’t fix me, I think morosely, she didn’t fix me. I feel my arms extending until they drag along the sand, slowly, painfully, they morph into enormous paws and strong arms.
My vision clears, and I feel wings burst from the folds of skin on my back. I keep them tight against my body, heading for an open space where I can fly away from the woman and her murderous intentions. The alley opens up into what once might have been a town square and I pad to the center of it. I want to go away and fly wherever the wind takes me. Perhaps Civisilva. What am I doing in this wasteland anyway? I shake my head, trying to remember how I came to be here, but all I know is that the sky is waiting for me.
I hear footsteps behind me and spin, lips pulled back over my teeth. A woman bursts into the space, dagger in hand. She’s panting, but her eyes are narrowed dangerously. I growl low at her, a warning to keep her distance. Her light brown hair sticks to her forehead, damp with sweat, and she wears a set of fine armor. She’s thin, with light blue eyes that sear into my soul.
“Stay back, girl,” I snarl, flicking my tail out behind me.
“Altair?” Her words spark a flicker of recognition, but it’s gone before I can catch hold of it.
“Whoever you’re searching for isn’t here,” I growl. “Leave at once.”
She lifts the dagger and takes a step towards me. “You have to let me finish the spell, Altair. If you don’t, you’ll be trapped like this forever.”
My hackles rise as she approaches slowly. “You test my patience.”
With a cry, she lunges towards me, dagger outstretched. I swipe it out of her hand with a paw and she yelps, surprised. With a furious snarl, I pounce on her, driving her to the ground. Her eyes are wide and fearful. I open my mouth, ready to snap my teeth around her skull. She whimpers as saliva drips from one of my fangs and lands on her cheek. Yes, this will be satisfying indeed.
Suddenly, there’s a sharp shriek from the darkness. My head snaps up, eyes roving through the shadows to find the source of the noise. She struggles under my paws, and I can hear her heart pounding fearfully. Another moan from the night, closer this time. I release the woman, instincts telling me that whatever is approaching in the night is much more dangerous than this feeble woman. She scrambles to her feet, hand reaching for the blade at her hip.
“Spirits,” she whispers. “We have to get out of here and back to camp.”
Her words are cut short by a wail shattering the night. The sound chills me to the bones. A white fog hurtles out of the darkness towards the woman. Despite its ethereal form, I see a pair of black, endless eyes, and a mouth filled with too many teeth. The woman screams, swinging her sword at the spirit. Her fear makes her sloppy and her blade is as useless against the phantom as it would be cutting through smoke.
She screams a garbled phrase and light bursts from her hands. A Bloodbane witch, I seethe. The spirit whirls away in response to the flare of light, but it will be back. More howls join the chorus of the first. More spirits are coming to join the first. When they finally burst into the open space, they streak around us so quickly, I can’t keep track of them all. I snarl at them, trying to bat them away with my paws. But my own attacks are as useless as the woman’s sword. She throws beams of light all around us, lighting up the night sky like blasts of firepowder.
Pain sears through me as one of the phantoms takes a bite out of my shoulder. I roar in anger, and my teeth close uselessly around its ethereal body. The woman’s light is coming slower now. She’s growing tired, I realize, as one of the phantoms knocks her off her feet. I don’t bother rushing to her aide. My eyes trail up to the sky. I should flee, travel to Civisilva like I planned. But something draws me back. I glance at the woman, on her back and trying desperately to maintain a light source to keep the spirits at bay.
They crowd around her, taking turns diving at her, testing her magic. I feel a pang of guilt at the prospect of abandoning her to the spirits. But, then again, she is a Bloodbane, no doubt intent on killing me. I groan, tossing my head back. With a snarl, I lunge at the woman and break apart the spirits nearest her. I position myself above her, taking the brunt of the phantoms’ attacks.
Suddenly, a warm light fills the area, nothing like the woman’s starlit beams. I hear her gasp with relief as the spirits hurtle away from the flames and back into the darkness. A light-haired Fae man runs toward us, a cloak flapping out behind him. Recognition pricks at my mind, but no memories come. The man skids to a halt beside us, hand on the hilt of his blade. The woman crawls out from my shadow, hiccupping with relief. I look curiously at her, she’s unlike any Bloodbane I’ve ever seen; weaker.
“What were you thinking?” The man says, his pale eyes cutting through me. “You could have gotten yourself killed.”
A snarl rips from my throat. “You dare speak to me with such insolence?”
The man cocks a brow, looking amused. “And what about you? What about your insolence, your inconsiderate actions towards us all? Gods, Altair, get a grip.”
“I’ll strike you down where you stand,” I threaten.
Suddenly, I feel the tip of a cold blade slice into me. I look in shock towards the woman. At my side, her dagger is buried in my ribs. She grimaces, tugging it out with a sickening squelch. I stagger, feeling dizzy. My vision grows hazy as I collapse to the sand. I see blurred outlines of the man tackling the woman.
“Verity,” I murmur, the name coming to me like a sunbeam. Pain flares in my ribs and along my chest.
The woman screams obscenities at the man, clawing at him. But her eyes are on me. Pale blue. Ah, Verity, I smile to myself. My Verity. I feel my wings shrink away, feathers fluttering to the ground and turning to ash almost instantly. Slowly, my limbs retract into a Fae form. The process is painful and slow, but not as painful as the burning in my ribs and chest. I glance down at myself when the shift is finally over.
The runes Verity carved into my chest have bled over me, coating me in red. There’s a hole in my side, blood spilling evenly and thickly from it, pooling in the sand. I sigh, feeling light and weightless.
“What did you do to him?” The man, Moritz, I remember, snarls.
She kicks at him, knocking him off balance and scrambles towards me. “I saved him,” she pants, half-crawling, half-running to me.
I lift a weak hand and smile when she reaches my side. “Verity,” I breathe. “I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay, it’s okay.” She takes my hand, squeezing it tightly. “It wasn’t you, it was the curse.”
“Is it?” I ask, trailing off.
She nods, silver tears shining in her lovely eyes. “It is. You’re free.”
“And will I die?” I ask, cocking a brow at her.
The tears in her eyes finally fall and she sniffs. “No, you idiot. Don’t joke about it either.”
I brush away the tears on her cheeks. “Stop crying, sweet Verity.”
She leans into my palm, her hands clutching at her knees. “I wish I could hate you,” she whispers.
Before I can respond, she buries her face in the crook of my neck, arms hanging awkwardly around me. I can feel the hot drip of her blood from a cut she sustained during the attack drip onto my bleeding chest. Fire sparks in me as our life force mingles. I close my ey
es, letting it sweep through me, purer than anything I’ve ever felt before. I wrap my arms around her, ignoring the sharp pain in my side and chest. Joy, unadulterated by the curse or thoughts of the future, swells in my chest. I’m free.
Tears well in my eyes and I clench them tightly closed, fighting against them. Verity lifts her head, and I can feel her eyes searching my face. I feel the light touch of her cool lips on my eyes, kissing away the tears. She pulls away and my heart aches.
Moritz was good enough to keep his distance during the exchange. I tear my eyes away from Verity long enough to see his smile. It disappears quickly from his face and draws his lips back into their usual, sour position. He jerks his head back towards camp.
“We should get back before they send anyone else,” he says, approaching. He holds out a hand and I take it, letting him hoist me to my feet. Moritz’s eyes rove over me, taking in the runes on my chest. He claps me on the back, looking serious. “I’m glad for you.”
I give him a weak grin. “Don’t get soft on me now, old friend.”
“Don’t get cocky,” he retorts, hiding a grin behind the cowl of his cloak. He glances at Verity on my other side. “I’m sorry if I hurt you.”
“Me too,” she says, eyes darting to his groin.
“Only my ego,” he quips.
We fall into silence as we trudge back to camp, protected by Moritz’s bright torch. My eyes drift to Verity at my side and I have to clasp my hands together to keep from taking hers. There’s a bounce in my step I haven’t felt in years. I dive into myself, searching for the seed of the curse I felt even after Verity promised herself to me months ago, but I can’t find it. Verity meets my gaze and smiles genuinely.
I grin back. I can feel the spark of her in my veins, a constant taste of what it is to be loved by her. I cling to it, knowing I may never feel it beyond this again. But it's all I need. To know that she loved me as I love her. I will hold that secret fire to my chest where it will burn for eternity until my body wastes away into nothing. It's a hope and a promise, an assurance that I will always be Verity's. Always.
Chapter 18
Verity
I hardly slept for the rest of the night, my thoughts swirling around Altair and the force of the magic I used. Twice, Thal nudged me in his sleep for giggling. I glance at him now, rolling up his sleeping mat, hair mussed and eyes sleepy. He meets my gaze and then snatches my partially rolled mat from my hands.
“You’re distracted,” he notes, rolling up my mat expertly.
I make a lunge for it, but he moves it out of my reach with a smirk. I sit back on my haunches, eyes drifting to the dried blood in the sand nearby. “We did it, you know.”
He makes a face. “Must you refer to sex as ‘it’?”
“No,” I laugh. “I meant the curse, Thal. We broke the curse.”
“It worked?” He asks softly, eyes wide.
I nod excitedly. “It worked Thal, he’s free.”
Before I can blink, Thal has bundled me in his arms. He squeezes tightly, pushing the air from my lungs. I wheeze, but he doesn’t ease up. “Thank you,” he whispers. His voice is so soft I worry that I imagined it. But then he speaks again, “That idiot doesn’t deserve you. But I can’t thank you enough.”
“You really care for him,” I say, smiling even though Thal can’t see it.
He releases me, hands drifting down my arms, and I take a deep breath. “He may be a fool, but he is my cousin,” Thal says, rolling his eyes.
“Ready?” Cleo asks, pausing as she strides past us.
“Yeah.” I nod.
“I can’t say the same,” Thal mutters, helping me to my feet.
I dust off the sand coating my knees and shove my supplies onto my horse’s saddle. The old witch is taking us into the pyramid today, to find the histories of the Shades. I stare up at the imposing structure and swallow thickly. It’s a frightening idea for me, to travel into a tomb. I just hope the phantoms stay away from it. A shiver tickles my spine at the memory of the strange, evil spirits that swarmed me last night. I made light with my hands out of desperation, but I haven’t been able to replicate it.
Thal gives me an encouraging push towards the pyramid and we hurry to catch up with the others. Altair is beside Erzur, keeping his distance. I’m grateful for it. After last night, it feels like what we had is over now. It has come to a close. A painful one, but one that was necessary. It will be some time before my heart can truly let him go, before it stops hurting. He catches my eye and dips his chin in thanks. I smile briefly before turning away.
“Have you two finally given up your not-so-secret rendezvous?” Sadal drawls from a few feet ahead of me.
I bite back an angry retort. The sight of him still makes my skin crawl. “Nothing I do is of your concern.”
“You forget you’re still my bride,” he says, his voice dangerously low.
“And you forget you have no power over me anymore,” I say, scowling. “You have no power at all.”
“For now.” He smiles wickedly.
A chill creeps along my skin, hairs standing on end. I glance at Cleo. “Can he – ?” I trail off.
Cleo stares at Sadal’s back with hateful eyes. “Perhaps.”
We fall silent as we enter the shadow of the pyramid. I take a deep breath instinctively, as if I’m about to dive into deep water. The old witch is silent as she hobbles forward. She disappears into the gaping hole that serves as the pyramid’s entrance. Altair is next, bracing himself against the pitch-black darkness within. Erzur strides after him. Moritz leads Sadal through, being careful to hold his chains and keep any weapons out of arms reach.
Finally, after Cleo, it’s just Thal and I. He grimaces looking into the darkness and I bite my lip. “Have you been here before?”
“No.” He shakes his head. “But one of my men, Yarrow, got lost in a sandstorm, when we found him again, he blabbered nonsense about a pyramid and shadows that tried to eat him. He went mad and killed himself.”
My shoulders stiffen at Thal’s last words. He looks down at me, green eyes filled with remorse. “It’s not your fault,” I say, reaching for him.
He lets me hold his clenched fist. "No? Then why is he dead?"
I open my mouth to speak, but he starts towards the pyramid. He pauses in the doorway, searching for torchlight within from our friends, but there’s nothing but inky darkness. Thal inhales sharply and then turns to me. He holds out a hand and I take it, lacing my fingers through his. If I don’t anchor myself to his warmth, I’m afraid the pyramid will swallow me.
“Let’s go,” he says, nodding encouragingly.
We enter the maw of the pyramid together and for an instant it feels as if the world tips upside down. Serus’ hackles are raised, and he hisses. The pyramid is cold, and barely lit by the torches the group carries. They’re waiting for us in the antechamber, an enormous room with a ceiling so high I can’t see it in the darkness. Great columns stretch from the ground into the shadows above, disappearing as if into clouds. I swallow hard, fingers tightening around Thal’s hand. He squeezes back.
The others are quiet and reverent in the pyramid, even Sadal keeps his mouth tightly closed. We move forward, and Thal releases my hand only to draw his sword. I follow suit, trying to hide how my hands shake. It’s as silent as a tomb in the pyramid, even our footsteps are muffled. Motes of dust float through the air, giving the space a mystical quality. The air is stale and sour, and I wonder how long it’s been since anyone last breathed it.
“Keep your thoughts on the things of this world,” the old witch whispers. Her voice echoes off the pyramid walls. “You may just get lost.”
I furrow my brows with alarm at her words. She leads us deeper into the pyramid, and soon we leave the antechamber behind. The halls are narrow and twisty, like a maze. I keep my distance from the walls, occasionally bumping into Thal. It feels as if the walls are watching, as if they're breathing. Ahead of me, Cleo glances over her shoulder, as if to assure herself that
I'm still there. The gesture brings me some comfort, but I know it's only because she feels what I'm feeling too. Magic. Deep, old, and dangerous.
We go deeper, walking down an incline into the bowels of the pyramid. I wonder if the old witch knows which way to go, or if we’re only wandering. Thal’s hand brushes mine reassuringly but my eyes drift over the group to find Altair. His hair gleams in the light of our torches, but he only looks straight ahead. He has Erzur to worry about now.
The narrow hall opens up into a gallery. I stifle a gasp, the sound echoing through the enormous room. Even from the entrance and by the short light of our torches, it’s clear the room has been carefully detailed. The walls still gleam with sapphire and gold trim, carved, bulbous, columns reaching up for the high ceiling where they end in a spray of gold. The floors are painted with murals, the colors still bright and vibrant.
The old witch takes one of the torches and brushes it against the nearby wall. Suddenly, the wall erupts in flame. It courses down the center of the wall, until it’s circled the entire room. The flames light up the space so we can see its full glory. Reliefs of the gods and goddesses have been sculpted onto one of the walls. I even spot Sadal’s likeness on one and he grins. On another wall, monstrous beasts have been carved and painted. I see the dark images of the Shades in the far corner and feel a thrill of fear. The likeness is uncanny, as if the people here once saw them in person.
On the floor, the paintings resemble a history, and I can only assume it’s the history of the people who once enjoyed this fallen empire. While we gape over the richness of the room, Sadal struts closer to his sculpture. Moritz jerks on the chain, tugging him back a step, but Sadal isn’t bothered.
“Fine workmanship, don’t you think?” He asks, grinning.
I point to the Shades in the distance. “What about them? How do you find the resemblance?”
