"I thought you said this area of the kingdom is barren."
"It is," he told her, mystified, "whatever this is, it must be hundreds of years old."
The phantom blew between them, no longer the shape of a man, back to a cloudy fog, and rose up to the top of the ruins before disappearing entirely.
"Up?" Jinji asked.
With a resigned sigh, Rhen nodded. "Up."
Then he knelt down to offer her his hands as a foothold. Lifting her was easy and within moments, Jinji had pulled herself to the top of the mound.
"See anything?" Rhen called as she disappeared from sight, kneeling down to examine the top.
"I think there may be a door," she said, popping back into view as she leaned over the edge. "Can I help you?"
Rhen raised an eyebrow, fighting to keep the smirk from his face—but the idea of Jinji being able to pull him up to the top was ridiculous. One yank and she would come tumbling over the edge, though catching her would definitely be fun…
Shaking his head, Rhen just said, "I'll be fine."
Using the vines as a foothold, Rhen began to climb. Immediately, his arms ignited with a familiar burn, still totally spent from scaling the cliff face with Jinji holding onto his back. But the distance was much shorter this time and he made it easily to the top.
Jinji was waiting alone, no phantom in sight, and leaning over a hole in the floor. "I think I see steps."
Rhen sank beside her, pulse quickening as their arms touched, but he tried to focus on the task at hand. The hole was not so much a hole, but what looked like a metal gate buried under sediment. If it were a door, then there would be a handle. Pushing leaves and mud to the side, Rhen ran his palms over rough stone, feeling for a…
There.
A hook. Grasping the circular iron hoop, Rhen stood and pulled. The gate lifted, creaking with age, revealing a staircase that had been untouched for who knew how long. And a few feet below, the phantom waited, pointing into the dark.
"Down?" Rhen asked.
This time Jinji was the one who sighed and shook her head, before answering with a resigned, "Down."
After about ten steps they ran into a dilemma—the sun was gone, blanketing them in impenetrable darkness. Rhen searched the wall for a torch, but anything that might have been there had been destroyed with age.
"What now?" he asked, peering into the ebony abyss where the mist had disappeared. Without a torch or any fire at all, going farther would be impossible.
"Hmm," Jinji murmured, biting her lip, "I may have an idea."
"Wha…" But Rhen trailed off, eyes widening as Jinji held out her hand and closed her lids. Rhen had seen her wear that look only once before, the night he visited her rooms, the night she showed him her illusions.
Holding his breath, Rhen watched as the air began to bend around her arm, like fractured light off a diamond, not quite natural. Slowly, from the dark, the hint of wood appeared, translucent at first, but growing more and more opaque, until the shaft of a torch rested sturdily between her fingers—more solid than any illusion Rhen could imagine.
A moment later, fire burst from the end, bright and blinding, shocking Rhen as he felt the heat dig into his palm, provoking his senses. Instinctually, Rhen pulled on the flame and it twitched in his direction, moving ever so slightly, before he released his hold. Drawn to the light, Rhen reached forward, putting the tips of his fingers in the flame, enjoying the burn.
He let his hand fall back to his side. Did Jinji know how real her illusions had become? The fire atop her torch reacted to his touch no differently than a real flame would.
Strange, Rhen thought, brows scrunched as he rubbed his fingers together. The lingering warmth sunk under his skin, molding to his blood.
"Here you go," Jinji said a few moments later, handing Rhen a second torch. He was almost afraid to grip too tightly, lest the illusion unravel. But the wood scratched his skin, firm in his grasp, too real to be fake.
With the halls around them glimmering in firelight, Rhen and Jinji continued down the circular steps, moving round and round until they reached the bottom. The phantom led them down abandoned hallways, through a wooden door that had decayed over time, past broken glass windows with no view aside from endless mud and roots. An entire castle sat abandoned underground, oddly preserved, yet completely vacant.
Who lived here?
Where did they go?
What happened?
Rhen couldn’t stop the questions from boggling his mind. Buildings did not just bury themselves, not so pristinely without a single stone out of place.
The phantom came to a halt just inside a cavernous room. The space reminded Rhen of a throne room, though no furniture rested inside. But the ceilings vaulted into high arches, reminding him of home.
Next to him, Jinji let her torch disappear and held both hands before her face, closing her eyes. Soon candlesticks decorated the entire floor, casting the room in warm, yellow light.
Rhen turned in his spot, looking for the clue the phantom had been trying to show them. Columns ran down the length of the room, and at the far wall, Rhen saw the hint of an image, too faint to make out. Careful where he stepped, he walked forward, boots echoing across the silence.
Holding his torch close to the wall, Rhen searched for meaning in the old paint swirls, dried out with time, fading into almost nothingness. Reds. Oranges. Yellows. Whispers of color graced the surface of the wall, once brilliant, but now almost imperceptible against the stone. Rhen gently slid his finger along the wall, pulling away to see his skin covered in dust and dirt. The image underneath popped brighter where he rubbed the residue away, looking almost like a flame…
Rhen's gut clenched.
Filled with the need to understand, to subdue the urgency piercing his veins, Rhen pressed his forearm along the wall, rubbing the painting clean, using every inch of fabric along his torso to wipe the residue away.
"Rhen," Jinji called, worry lacing her voice.
But his ears did not quite work. Rhen grew frenzied, jumping against the wall to reach his arm as high as possible. This was no cave painting he had uncovered—this time, the phantom made sure his message was loud and clear, obvious enough for Rhen to comprehend.
Heart pounding, Rhen continued. Fire splashed the walls around him, almost real with the flicker of the candlelight. But what else was there? What else was he supposed to see?
"Rhen!" Jinji yelled.
The sharp tone of her voice caught Rhen off guard, making him pause, giving him a moment to breathe.
"Step back," she commanded. "I think I know what it is, who the phantom is."
Was there a note of sadness in her words?
Rhen shook his head, following her orders, and stepped a few feet back. With the distance, the flames scorching the lower edge of the wall became even clearer. Deep red and orange swirls, highlighted with bright yellows, made fiercer through black shadows. But that was it, that was all. The upper three quarters of the painting remained hidden under layers of soot, invisible to Rhen's eye.
Until suddenly it wasn't.
Jinji walked past him, weaving her hands elegantly through the air, folding her fingers in a dance, moving her palms in sweeping arcs.
Rhen gasped.
A beast clawed at the wall. Flames rolled off its back. Wings spanned the width of the room, translucent ebony. And sitting atop scales that seemed made of molten rock, was a man.
A true Lord of Fire.
Rhen stumbled back, feet uneven as he continued to stare at the painting, unable to look away. The phantom swirled up and attached itself to the image of the man, dark gray mist undulating in the shape of the rider, like ash from the fire.
"A dragon? This is what he wants to show us?" Rhen finally whispered, not quite believing his own words. "But they're beasts of myth, of legend."
"I don't believe they always were," Jinji said, turning back to him with a pained expression. Swallowing loudly, she bit her lip and then took a deep brea
th, wincing. "There's something happening to me that I haven't told you. Something to do with the shadow."
Rhen pulled his gaze from the painting, brows immediately knotting in worry. "Are you all right? Are you hurt?"
Jinji shook her head. "No, nothing like that. I'm not sure how to say it, except, well, ever since I touched the shadow that day in Rayfort, I've been hearing a voice in my head. And…" She held up her hand for silence. "Before you tell me I'm crazy, please let me finish."
Rhen closed his mouth, nodding. But she had misconstrued his intentions—Rhen was going to admit that somehow, the words made sense to him. Deep in his soul, an understanding burst into awareness, as though the pieces were beginning to fall into place.
"It's too much to go into now, I'm not sure if I even truly understand, but the voice is really a soul that shares my body, a guardian of this world, and our connection is the reason I can manipulate the elemental spirits. Her presence gave me the power to create my illusions. And though she has lived countless human lives, this is the first time she has returned to our world in a thousand years, maybe more."
Jinji sighed, wringing her thumbs as though nervous. "The voice has been sharing memories with me, I believe just of her last life in our world. And dragons were alive, they were real. The phantom who follows you, who is with us right now, I've seen him ride them in my, I mean, her memories."
Rhen walked back to the wall, running his fingers over the flames, yearning to pull the fire under his skin, wishing it were real. But the stone was cold, dead, lifeless.
"Why bother to show us this? Why go through all the effort of bringing us here, just to show us an old painting?" Rhen asked, spinning around as his hand balled into a fist, fighting the urge to slam it against the wall. "Even if dragons were once real, they aren't any more. This doesn't help us."
"I don't know," Jinji said softly. "Perhaps this lost soul doesn't understand how much time has passed since his death, doesn’t realize that they're gone."
As though sensing Rhen's mounting anger, she let the illusion fall. The painting faded back to dust, to light brown soot hardly distinguishable from the stone. But the image still burned Rhen's eyes—he couldn’t get rid of it.
When the phantom had reappeared on their ship, Rhen stupidly let himself believe he'd found the answer—that somehow, someway, this ghost would show him the key to saving his family. And instinct to trust, to believe, had flared to life, burning the doubts away. It was the only reason Rhen veered off the path to Brython, the only reason he broke his promise to Whyllem to stay out of trouble. When they were led to a cliff, Rhen almost turned around. One slip, and he might fall to his death, might destroy the last hope of his bloodline. But still, Rhen pushed forward, too close to turn back.
And after all of that, this was it? This was all he had to show? Memories of an animal that had been dead for centuries, gone from this world, utterly useless?
Rhen's energy gave out as an invisible knife pierced his heart, stinging, and he fell to his knees. Broken. Baby Whyllean pushed into his thoughts—his pudgy hands as they wrapped around Rhen's finger, the dimples that carved into his cheeks when he laughed, the curiosity in his eyes as though the entire world were a marvel to behold. Those memories faded, replaced by the image of his tiny head on a spike, gaze blank, mouth frozen.
Rhen closed his eyes, fighting to suppress the nightmare as he ran his hands through his hair.
No…
He shook his head.
I should be there. Why did I run? Why did I listen to Whyllem?
"Rhen," Jinji sighed in his ear as her arms wrapped around his shoulders and she pulled him in for a tight embrace. Rhen gripped her as though his life depended on it, pulling her close, burying his head in her neck. Breaths coming quick and shallow, he tried to hold onto her warmth, her pulse, to fight the sobs strangling his throat.
But just when Rhen feared he would lose it, drowning in the despair choking his heart, a sound filtered into his ears, replacing the hurt with sudden alarm.
Boots.
Rhen and Jinji pulled back at the same time, eyes wide, looking at one another for confirmation. But the noise was impossible to mishear. Boots down an empty hall, echoing across the silence. Multiple sets. Soft but growing louder.
Rhen shook his head, confused. Who could it be? This area of the kingdom was abandoned—no towns, no villages, nothing except wilderness.
Jinji lifted her finger in front of her lips, latching her free hand around his. Together, they stepped to the side, hiding in the shade of a tall column. Rhen spared one more glance at the painting, noticing for the first time that the phantom had disappeared, abandoned them.
Good riddance, he thought.
And then darkness descended. The candles across the floor winked out of existence. The torch at his feet disappeared. In his hand, Jinji's fingers began to tremble. Beside him, her voice grew short. Rhen settled an arm across her shoulders, pulling her against his chest as he ran a hand down her hair.
Remembering how much his friend despised the dark, how it reminded her of the shadow, of her nightmare, Rhen kissed her forehead ever so slightly, enjoying how natural the motion was. Then he whispered, "I won't leave you."
For a moment, her body relaxed against him, but then she sucked in a constricted breath. Placing her hand to his cheek, she pushed, shifting his gaze.
In the distance, a warm yellow speck appeared, confirming they were no longer alone.
13
JINJI
~ HILLS OF AIREDALE ~
When Jinji felt Rhen's lips press against her forehead, the barest hint of a kiss, she couldn't help but wonder for a moment if all of this were real—if it could possibly be happening to her.
Those dark weeks in the dungeon fluttered to the forefront of her thoughts—endless days where the promise of Rhen was all that had kept her together. Countless times, Jinji had woven illusions of him holding her just like this—arms warm against her skin, touch a comfort in the evasive dark, hands soothing as they ran up and down her back. And sometimes, when the burns around her wrist ached too much to bear and the piercing screams continued echoing through the silence, Jinji would tell Rhen's illusion to kiss her, comforting and loving, and his lips would land gently against her forehead.
But now, finding herself drowning in darkness once more, Rhen was there doing everything she wished in her dreams—only this time, he was doing them on his own with no prodding and no pushing from her.
"I won't leave you," he whispered, breath tickling her neck as the warm vibrato of his voice sent one last shiver down her spine. If there was ever a doubt, it was gone as the sound washed over her. This Rhen was real, not an illusion.
Jinji relaxed against him, melting under his touch.
Then she sucked in a breath, the moment of peace utterly shattered as the glow of fire sprang to life in the distance. A hundred feet underground in a castle that had not seen life for centuries, and yet, someone had found them—followed them.
Reaching up, Jinji placed her palm against Rhen's cheek, shifting his gaze to the intruders. The fingers holding her arm tightened as Rhen released a harsh breath, a silent curse. His free hand shifted, brushing the side of her hip as he reached for the knife in his belt. In that moment, Jinji was sure he wished for a sword. But his favorite weapon was waiting back on the deck of their boat where Rhen had left it before jumping overboard and following her into the water.
Still, a knife was better than nothing, which was what Jinji had. Empty hands. But with her illusions, she was never helpless—not really.
Jinji shrugged free of Rhen's hold, allowing him to crouch into a fighting stance as she lifted her fingers before her face, ready to produce whatever mirage was needed to aid their escape.
Neither of them moved as the men stepped closer. Jinji counted six as they neared, each one held a sword in one hand and a torch in the other, peering nervously around the space. The man in front crouched every so often, spotting their foots
teps on the ground, continuing to follow the trail they had made in the dust.
"What do we do?" she whispered as quietly as possible. The men did not stop, did not look around. They were still too far away to hear.
"When they get close," Rhen murmured with lips pressed against her ear, making it difficult to concentrate on his words, "I'm going to attack. When I shout your name, fill the room with candlelight once more."
Jinji nodded, squeezing his fingers once before he slipped away. After three dull thuds of boots on stone, Jinji could no longer hear him. The sound of his steps faded away, too soft to penetrate the silence as he moved like a ghost in the darkness—like a phantom.
On instinct, Jinji's gaze shifted over her shoulder. Though there was nothing to see, the image of the painting was glued to her memory—more specifically, the image of the man riding the beast. As soon as they arrived in this room, as soon as Rhen began to rub away the soot covering the painting, Jinji had realized who the phantom was.
The rider from the memory.
The man the voice had loved.
Not her brother.
Not Janu.
And though her heart had sunk a little at the realization, it made sense. The phantom had not come for her, not initially. It had come for Rhen. Though the phantom's blue eyes were so different from the warm green ones that had captured her heart, there was something familiar about him, so like Rhen. The fire, yes, but also something more—something Jinji desperately needed the voice to help her understand.
In a way, Jinji felt sorry for the phantom, a soul who must not have realized how long he'd been in the grave. Every gesture at the painting had been charged with meaning, full of such intent. Jinji wished she could speak to it, tell the man that his beast was long dead, that dragons were now just a thing of legend. Maybe it would give him peace, let him descend back to the realm of the shadow and leave this world.
The Spirit Heir (Book 2) Page 15
