by Jamie Magee
Draven bowed his shoulders back. “We are immortal, you fool.”
“Are you?” Xavier spat back at him.
“That is what he clearly stated,” Drake said as he crossed his arms.
No matter how much I stared at him, he refused to let his eyes meet mine. He refused to show any connection whatsoever to me. Why in the hell was he not stopping time? Why was he not letting the three of us figure this out while the others stood frozen? Was he really that furious at me? Did he honestly believe I was there on purpose? Or was he just furious that I had not stayed in the little cage he had built for me? Either way, he was royally ticking me off.
Drake moved around his desk with all the grace of a stoic king. “Therefore, she will be subject to an immortal death.”
Do what?
Everyone in the room, with the exception of Zander, must have thought the same thing. They all looked at Drake at once.
“If she survives, then clearly you will stop your foolish protest,” Drake said evenly to Xavier.
“This is foolish. No. The dungeon now,” Alamos said as he waved his arms for us to leave.
“Speak against me once more, and you will face the same test,” Drake said to Alamos with a wicked smirk on his face.
“Power has gone to your head,” Alamos retorted.
“No. Reason has. Today, I proved I do not need a queen to save souls in this world. One by one, I will knock down your outdated laws. She survives, the argument stops. She does not, I move forward and take a queen when I damn well feel like it.”
“You had help. I am no fool,” Xavier spat at Drake.
Within that instant, Xavier was five feet in the air, struggling with an invisible hold on his neck.
“And who is helping me strangle the life out of you now?” Drake said coolly, glancing up uncaringly at Xavier.
Alamos bowed before Drake. “Sire, bloodshed is not needed to prove your point. We stand in awe of the power that the Creator has bestowed upon you.”
Xavier dropped to the floor at that instant. Drake smirked at Alamos. “Save your bullshit for someone who needs to hear it.” His eyes moved to Draven. “An immortal execution. One hour. If she survives, she will state what fate will come to this one,” he said with a nod to Britain. “If not, I will handle him personally.”
With that, he turned and went back to his desk, as if he had more important matters than me to deal with. The man portraying Alamos came to my and Draven’s side and nodded for us to walk forward.
“You. Old man,” Drake said to him. “You’re not leaving my sight.” He looked down to the papers on the desk as if he were only half-heartedly aware of what everyone else was doing. “Guards.”
That instant, Zander, along with the others, escorted Draven and me out.
We had to traverse the entire palace once again. By the time we reached the other side, I would have only minutes to figure out how not to die.
“Unless I have missed some all important memo, I’m not immortal,” I said quietly enough that Draven was the only one that could have possibly heard me.
He glanced at me. When he did, I let him see what Aden and I had gone through and focused hard on the last place I had seen him. He needed to figure out if he was okay.
Draven nodded once and opened his mind for me to see into him.
I didn’t understand how he knew, but I knew that both Landen and Draven were aware of where Aden was and had done everything they could to help him. Draven had no idea if Aden was okay or not. His role was to come to me, be an ambassador for me, and because he had, Charlie was left unguarded. I had placed us all at risk and felt like a fool because I had. Maybe death was warranted. Me and my stupid obsessions.
“Plans?” I whispered, wanting to know if he had any clue how I was supposed to survive this. Draven furrowed his brow as if I should already know. That was when I saw his perception of what happened in that room with Drake.
Though the argument was sharp and fierce between all the men, Draven and Drake were having their own little silent conversation. Drake was showing Draven the explosion, pointing out the time between them. He was showing him something that looked like a massive well. With the explosion, the water rose. It fell after the first blow, then rose again with the second blow.
“Not helping.”
“Aden. Boat.”
I furrowed my brow as I looked up at him. When Aden told me about finding that boat, we were running for our lives. I was way too wigged out to see him then, but Draven was able to go back to that moment and see Aden’s point of view through my thoughts. What he saw was that the side of that hollow room that I was in had only three openings—the small one we were at and a massive one above it. On the stone above the massive passage, there was a carving of the most insane octopus I had ever seen.
The remains of the glass boat were found on the opposite side of the room.
Zander elbowed me. “South. Large one.”
“You know about this? Is he really even mad at me?” I asked in a hushed whispered as I glanced at the other guards.
“You are testing him, sovereign. That is a good thing.”
“I’m not immortal.”
“Not yet,” Zander said quietly. “Pay attention,” he said with a nod to Draven, who was still going over Aden’s perception with me.
Draven was telling me that I had to go into that chamber to find what I needed, but that was not helping me at all. Even if there happened to be another explosion right when I was going through said test, that chamber was hundreds of feet below the surface in a massive oval room. Even if the water could fill it, I could not swim in that. No way. No how.
I swallowed nervously as I moved my stare forward. There had to be some kind of loophole here, some kind of way out of this. Anxiety was fluttering in my gut, but I demanded that it back off. I was too focused to be afraid right now.
I was right: by the time we reached the other side of the palace, they only had time for me to change out of my jeans and into a white gown. Its straps were thin and squared off at the chest. The top of it was heavy, almost like it was made of armor. The silk bottom flowed out ever so subtly below that point. I had no idea how I would swim in it—that is, if there was even water. There was a fifty-fifty chance that I was diving into a stone floor.
Draven and I were never alone, so he could not use his words to ensure that I understood what I was supposed to do or even offer reassurance that I could do what I had to do.
As soon as I was dressed, I was led up another set of stairs. At the top of them, I could see the sky. I was being led onto one of the lower rooftops.
The sky was dark and gloomy, but the wind was utterly still. You could still smell the burning city in the not-so-far-off distance.
Drake was there. At his side, the fake ink Alamos, Xavier, and a host of other traitors that smelled so bad that I wished there was a wind.
Britain’s arms were bound. He was standing one step below a massive opening in the roof, and there was nothing less than sadness in his eyes as he peered at me.
This was not a private execution by any means. I could see the courtyard and the city around the palace. Every soul was outside, silently staring up at the roof. Grief was the only emotion coming from them.
Drake’s eyes only met mine briefly, and when they did he opened his mind. I saw him tell me ‘South.’ I watched the very limited time between the last explosions. Nothing that was helping me.
With a placid, calm expression, Zander took my arm from Draven and led me to the opening that Drake and the others were standing around. There were three small steps that led up to the ledge of the opening.
The inked Alamos walked over to me and ripped my locket from my neck. “Immortals do not need tools to prove their worth.”
Drake made no move to take it back for me. He was stone cold as he stood next to this man that would surely cross him soon enough.
The men on the roof began a low chant, one that sounded all too familiar.
Xavier stepped forward and reached a golden chalice toward me.
“Stop,” Drake said through gritted teeth.
I couldn’t help the relieved sigh that left my lips. He was going to save me from this suicide mission.
“She must drink,” Xavier protested.
“The blood of a king. I gave you no vein,” Drake said coolly to him as his eyes moved to the opening I had entered from.
There, Drake’s mother, Beth, emerged looking like nothing less than pure royalty. Her dark eyes never bothered to connect with me.
No one in this world knew of Beth’s secret family. I suppose this family was accustomed to playing a part for the world.
Beth was holding a golden chalice in her hands, one that was far more decadent than the one Xavier was insisting that I drink from.
“You expect me to believe that is your blood?” Xavier said as Beth approached us.
“Witnesses,” Drake said flatly.
At that moment, half of the men behind Xavier stepped forward.
“You are welcome to have a drink if you still doubt your king’s word,” Drake said to Xavier.
No response was given beyond a nod.
The chants grew louder as Beth faced me and reached her chalice to my lips.
I didn’t care how much I may have loved that boy—I was not about to drink blood. I was going to have to figure out how to fake this.
The chalice was deep; the blood was shallow. As it moved closer to my lips, I didn’t smell the familiar odor of blood; I smelled wine. There was an engraving on the inside of the cup that read: ‘beneath the ice south.’
As I heard the gasp from the crowd around me, I swallowed the wine that everyone else assumed was blood.
Beth gently took the chalice from my lips, bowed gracefully, then left the platform of the roof.
I edged up the stairs, daring to glance at Drake.
He may have had every reason to believe that this was a show, he even may have already planned my perfect escape from this, but as far as I knew this would be the last time I saw him.
As I stared into those entrancing eyes, I reflected every moment that he had completed me, I let him see himself through my eyes. I didn’t care that no response came—I had said my peace.
Zander was the one who had bound my hands behind my back. On purpose, he had tucked part of the cloth between my fingers so that when I released that material the ties would be loose enough for me to get free, though I was sure my flailing arms would have done the trick anyway.
It was hours past noon. I could tell by where the sun was compared to the burning city in the distance. From there, I figured out that south was right where I was standing, that the stone chamber was on this side of the wall. That helped, but what didn’t help was not knowing what I was even going to get or bring back. Was I really going to pull the remains of a body up here? Was that what I needed for some immortal test? Or was it just my survival they wanted to witness?
The chants turned into something low and morbid. Alamos nudged me forward on the ledge. I glanced at the crowd below me, bowed slightly, then stepped into this dark abyss, falling too fast to comprehend what I was doing.
Seconds after my feet left the ledge, I heard an explosion, then a roar. I was too worried about falling even to care. With little effort, my hands were free.
I tried to use my energy to slow my fall, flinging blows of it at the air I was soaring through. It worked, somewhat. At the very least, I slowed myself down enough to know whether or not I was passing an opening. Seconds later, I did pass the passage. My body flew past it like a lead weight.
Right after that, I splashed into water, water that was forcefully moving upward. The current slammed me against the wall and carried me upward, and before I knew it I was sucked into that opening I was trying to reach. Just as I swam into that crevasse, the water started to fall away. I had to grip the wall with every ounce of strength I had just so I wouldn’t be sucked away with the current.
Gasping, I tried to focus my eyes in the darkness. I could only vaguely see the stones; the sky and floors above were offering next to no light.
I started to fumble around this massive chamber. The floor was slick and gross to the touch. I was pretty much convinced that this was insane, that I just needed to climb out of this hole and throw it in those bastards’ faces that I was still alive.
That was when I heard that old childhood fear, that cold voice telling me to run. That was when the shadows around me started to form into a massive octopus. That was when I understood that this was a nest at one time, long ago, and it was the last place my little demon wanted me to go.
That spiteful emotion of fear morphed throughout my soul. I lost my reprieve right when I needed it the most. My heart started to pound as anxiety and adrenaline both fought to take control over my body. It took all I had not to back out of this cave and fall to my death.
Right as that thought came, I heard my name whispered by the most innocent voice in creation. Nervously, I glanced over my shoulder. There I saw Preston, glowing ever so brightly.
“Preston,” I breathed.
“Here,” he said, waving his hand for me to come to him.
The dark shadow octopus vanished, and the voice that was telling me to run let out a blood-curdling scream before it vanished into the darkness.
I glanced at my way out, then back at Preston, deciding that even though I knew that could not be the real him, someone somewhere wanted me to move forward.
His tiny body was kneeling down. When I reached him, I saw that the cave went deeper and in the crevasse below was a body. It was covered in ice, but rocks had fallen within this cave recently and those rocks had freed certain parts of the body from their icy imprisonment.
“The knife,” he whispered as he nodded to the stone floor.
I had found the remains I had been searching for.
The girl was holding her arms in a protective cradling position. Where her hands met, there was a knife, one that was regal yet looked as if it had been created today—time had not touched it.
“You tried to free me,” Preston whispered.
With a wide gaze, I looked into his blue eyes.
“You broke your bonds and saw that I was pulled in here. You tried to free me. Drake killed the monster, but it was too late…no air,” he said in a sad little voice.
“Preston, you think this was you?”
“No. I know it was.” He moved forward, and as he did the glow from his essence shined on the rocks behind the girl’s body. When I moved them, I saw a boy, his arm around the girl and the infant.
It was hard to see any of our three images in the remains of these vessels. Though they were near perfectly preserved, without a soul within them the similarity was hard to envision. The emotion, the energy I felt was the only thing telling me how horrible this death was.
“My words came back after the very first explosion.”
I stared at Preston, knowing that he had spoken long before today. In his eyes, I saw my answer. The night Drake left to find Willow for the first time, there was earthquake, one that the souls that lived here believed was an omen. That shaking had broken the ice around the baby, and the clothes around the child were pulled away.
“Knife,” he said to focus me again.
With a trembling hand, I reached for the blade that matched the sharp ice it was surrounded by all too well. With my touch, warmth came, fire came, and the thick ice instantly melted away. With the ice’s absence, the resemblance in these vessels to mine and Drake’s became more than real; it was like looking into a morbid mirror. I covered my mouth in horror as I fought my pained terror.
“I don’t know how I’m going to move these bodies,” I said as I fought back tears and gripped the knife in my hand.
“You just need the knife. The bodies will follow,” Preston assured me.
“Everything is telling me that I have to put them to rest. That these are chains on us.”
“Go. Now,” he said, nodding to the opening of the cavern.
I moved to my feet and struggled to get to the mouth of it. I didn’t know what I was going to do to get out of here.
My first idea was for me to see my way up there, stand before that crowd, then send someone to help me, but I was more than a little leery about leaving my body there.
The rumble that shook the cavern at that moment backed up that point. I grasped the wall, trying with everything I had not to lose that knife.
I could see the water below, see it charging upward once again. I was about to be flooded. I frantically glanced back at Preston; the image of him was gone.
I looked forward again and made a split second decision. I jumped, landing deep in that water but managing to swim up to the foaming top of the surface. I let it charge me forward, keeping my eye on the sky above. My body was against the wall. I clasped the stones and took control of my ascent.
I was almost to the top, but the water was losing its power. I knew it was about to fall again, leaving me no less than six feet short of where I needed to be.
I latched onto the steps that were feet below the opening.
I don’t know why or how I had the time to think about it, but I remembered how fast I had seen Drake move before, how he said it was like moving your soul but using more energy. I only had one shot at this, and that was it.
Above me, I could feel grief and rage in the emotions of the crowd. They thought I had failed. I was running out of time. I had to emerge soon.
I focused my mind, body, and soul and thrust myself forward. I felt myself soaring forward.
It all happened so fast. As my body flew upward, an unseen energy grasped me and pulled me in a different direction than where I was aiming. My feet were now on the ledge, the sky was above me, and for some reason I had that knife in my hand—aimed at Britain’s neck. An instant internal war started then. I knew deep down that on some level—whether it was past, present, or future—Britain was an enemy of mine, someone that I would have no choice but to bring down one day, but I knew today was not that day. Something inside of me told me that if I struck him, my end would come—not his.
