66. Danica

Danica

66

T he underground cell greets us with a chilling embrace, the air thick and cloying like a ghostly veil. It's a stifling space, walls weeping with the earth's tears, moss and lichen the only adornment on the cold stone surfaces. The faint drip-drip-drip of water echoes a melancholic metronome in the dimly lit chamber.

Shadows dance along the edges, cast by the feeble light filtering in through the cracks above, lending an eerie, forsaken atmosphere to the space.

Post-sex marathon, it's the next morning, and every little ache hums a sensual anthem courtesy ofRhyland's thoroughness—five blissful orgasms later, I'm sporting the kind of 'loved' soreness you wear with a smirk. My body is a tapestry of bruises and love bites, a testament to being thoroughly and utterly cherished.

Armored back in my skin-tight leathers, hair braided and fortified by a warrior's breakfast, I joinRhylandon a mission below ground—to the cell that cages his turncoat brother,Adrian. With each step into the depths, my heart swims in a storm of emotions.Adrian's deception has cut to the bone, risking everything sacred. Now, it's time for him to spill his secrets.

Adrian's cell sits at the heart of this heavy silence, a confinement of despair where comfort and warmth are strangers. There, cowering in shadow and regret, he's the picture of defeat.Adrian's eyes catch the dim light, a twinkle of 'I fucked up' in the depths of his midnight gaze as it meets ours. I mentally zip up my sassiest armor, braced to slice through the thick tangle of his treachery with razor-sharp wit.

The dude's clearly seen better days—when was the last time he fed? His face is sunken and ashen, like he'd been moonlighting as a ghost in a haunted house gig. The hair that once proudly screamed 'sorcerer-shampoo-commercial' now whispers 'dungeon life.' It's time to decode the enigma wrapped in a riddle, smothered in betrayer sauce that is our dearAdrian.

"Why?" I serve the single syllable into the chill of the cell, letting it ping against the stone like a siren call for truth. "Why pull a Judas on us after everything?"

Adrian's hands dance a nervous ballet, weaving a tapestry of second thoughts in his lap. After what feels like an eon, he throws his voice into the void, and it lands like a lead balloon. "I had no choice. Azrael promised me the one thing I desire most—my family's souls."

Surprise rockets my eyebrows skyward—I didn't anticipate that curveball. I instinctively retreat a step asRhylandpuffs up beside me, a scowl etched on his face so intense it could pierce metal. "Moretemishas your family? How can you be sure—what evidence do you have?"

"I just know,"Adriansnaps. "Azrael claimedMoretemisholds their souls captive, damned for eternity. He said if I helped him capture you,Moretemiswould free them." His voice cracks. "I had to try..."

A twinge of something slices through my irritation—a wave of empathy? Would I have played the game differently if I were in his no-good-traitor shoes? After all, the stakes are family souls. And after whatSeraphinajust shared with me—my mother is in the same boat.

"Spill it," I demand, my patience with riddles as thin as tissue paper.Adrian's got the exclusive scoop on Moldy-Wart, and it's high time he broadcast the full saga, minus the cryptic bullshit.

"Moretemis, he's the demon ruler of the Shadow Realm—the Underworld—and holds my wife and children captive in the Abyss, among thousands of others,"Adriansays, meeting my gaze. "Centuries of torment while I'm powerless to save them."

This isn't new.Moretemishas been aggressively amassing souls, almost as if he's trying to build up a vast collection, like a twisted Pokémon card collector. But now,Adrianis painting an even more ominous picture, making it sound likeMoretemisis angling to take on a role akin to the Greek god Hades—the ruler of the underworld who lords over the souls of the dead.

The burning question claws its way up my throat, demanding an answer. I must know ifAdrianis in on Azrael's dirty little secret. What would it say about him if he knew all along?

"Did you know?" I demand, my voice razor-sharp. "Azrael killed my mother?"

Rhylandgoes rigid beside me, his fury radiating off him in palpable waves. He doesn't know yet—the truth I've discovered.

"What?" he snarls, a guttural sound that speaks volumes.

Adrian's head droops, shame pouring off him in tangible waves. I can feel the sting of tears pricking at my eyes, but I staunchly refuse to let them fall.

"Azrael filled me in only after we knew for sure you were the foretold one. I swear," he confesses, his voice heavy with regret.

I'm at a loss for words, unsure how to process or respond to this revelation: Adrian's betrayal and the pain it brings slice through me like a serrated blade.

"Did you also know that he took my mother's soul, and now it's inMoretemis's filthy hands?" I manage to choke out, my voice quavering.

Rhylandis at my side instantly, his hands cupping my face, compelling me to meet his gaze. "Are you certain about this? Where'd you get this intel?"

"Seraphina," I breathe, and that single word carries the weight of a thousand unsaid things.

Rhyland's eyes glaze over, a mirror reflecting the storm raging within me. He feels what I feel—the searing hurt, the bitter betrayal, the aching loss, and the desperate need for redemption.

"I did," Adrian confesses matter-of-factly.

I clench my eyes shut, desperately trying to dam the flood of emotions threatening to overwhelm me. When I finally trust my voice not to betray me, I force the words out, each laced with urgency. "How?" I ask, worry lines etched into my forehead. "How can their souls be redeemed?"

Adrianleans back, his composure fracturing as the desire to assist shines through. "I've been trying to find the answers—I'm close. What I do know is that there must be a path to redemption. No soul deserves to languish in Hell unjustly or endure a fate more harrowing than death itself."

Seraphina's words echo in my mind—the souls are indeed redeemable. But the burning question remains: how? That's the elusive jackpot answer we so desperately need.

"I understand that this may be unexpected for you. But, as the savior..."Adrianbegins.

"Enough with the savior crap," I cut in. "We need to unravel this mystery. My mother's soul is at stake."

"I beleive…It has to do with you, Dani."

"Don't you dare put this burden on her," Rhyland growls, his tone low and dangerous—a clear warning directed atAdrian.

Adrianleans back in his seat, a hint of resignation on his face. "I'm just stating the facts here.Dani's the one with the power to take onMoretemis. If anything, she's the only one that can free them."

I fixAdrianwith a stare that could melt steel.

"Now you want to play the hero and help us? After everything you've done, all the betrayal and lies, you expect us to welcome you back with open arms?" Rhyalnd's tone is sharp enough to cut glass.

Somewhat chastened,Adrian's gaze drops to the floor as he mumbles, "No, I don't expect that. Just hope." He lets out a long breath. I can feel his remorse. "I messed up, okay? I admit that."

Rhyland's jaw locks, eyes blazing. "You let that bastard Azrael work me over for weeks for what? Some bullshit hope to free your family, with no real plan? Put me through Amara's twisted games? And that goddamn hole where Cade had his fun torturing me—explain that, you piece of shit."

Adrianflinches. "I'm sorry, it wasn't meant to be that way. All I did was give Azrael your location before everything got messed up. He swore he'd only keep you under Cade's watch until..." he looks to me with guilt in his eyes, "until he securedDani." His eyes plead for understanding as he meetsRhyland's gaze. "You must understand—I had to take the chance…"

Rhylandquits the statue act and paces the cell like a caged predator; each breath heaves out thunderously against the silence.

My voice releases the building tension. "What changed? Why all the smoke and mirrors?"

Adriannods with a hint of resignation. "Right—he wasn't counting on your power, so we had to pivot our plan—thus the reason we pulled you out of the bunker." He motions to Rhyland.

The big picture snaps into focus like the last few turns of a Rubik's Cube. The memory hits me afresh, raw and searing—Rhylandvanished, leaving me thinking I'd been left in the lurch, only to learn he was trapped in a hole, taking a beating that would've killed a lesser man. It was all part of Azrael's grand scheme to keep him off the board while trying to grab me. When that flopped, plan B was to paradeAdrianin, playing the hero, all to tap into my still-under-wraps powers.

"Nice move, though," I say with enough sarcasm to peel paint. "Play the double-agent game, hand us over on a silver platter, and for what? Your little choice there didn't just backfire. It gave Azrael all he wanted on a silver stake. Ever think maybe you were just a pawn in all their bullshit?"

"Of course I did."Adrianbursts out. "But the damned have few options." His head drops wearily. "I was a fool. Now, we all may pay the price."

Rhyland's words cut through the air, fierce and unforgiving. "Nobody's footing the fucking bill but you. I've paid enough for your betrayal—bled for it, suffered. That debt's been settled in full by me, and me alone!"

Adrian's head bows as if carrying the weight of the world. "I know, brother—"

"Stop calling me that."Rhylandsnaps. "You lost the right to call me brother. Family doesn't pull the kind of shit you did."

Adrianshakes his head. "I was a fool to trust Azrael's word. But when you've endured endless grief, any glimmer of hope is blinding."

Internally, I'm wrestling with understandingAdrian's limits—his pressures and decisions. Outside, my face is an unreadable mask. I nod slightly, showing the world a pillar of strength amidst the storm of betrayal and conflict.

I switch gears beforeRhylandgoes full-on Pompeii. The Soul Stone—that's the next breadcrumb. "Alright, enough about who betrayed whom for now. Let's slice into something meatier—the Soul Stone. Enlighten us,Adrian."

Adrian, the human shrug emoji, offers up his shoulders in a half-hearted lift. We all know there's much more to unravel about the Soul Stone, and it's high time he started spilling.

"Right, let's cut the dramatics and talk turkey about Azrael's pet rock. I'm not entirely in the dark here—we're dealing with a 'Humpty Dumpty' situation; it's all in pieces, and Amara's played keep-away with a chunk. So spill—how does this glorified gravel ramp up Azrael's mojo?" Arms crossed, I have zero patience for the long version. "Give me the cliff notes,Adrian. How does it give Azrael power?"

Adrianstraightens, a scholarly light entering his eyes despite the dire topic. "Thestonesdraw magic from the realm of Unbra. Shadow magic, illusions, mind control, necromancy. In the wrong hands, it corrupts."

"So the stone controls the user?" I ask.

"Not exactly,"Adriansays. "It exploits flaws already within someone. It heightens their worst impulses—cruelty, deception, hubris. It makes them a vessel for destructive powers."

I consider this carefully. The stone reveals someone's true nature. "Can the magic be harnessed for good?"

Adriantilts his head thoughtfully. "Perhaps, but the temptation for personal gain is too great for most. The magic demands a steep price for use. Azrael's strength grows with each piece he acquires; they amplify his dark abilities, making him a force that stands opposite the essence of creation you wield,Dani. It's a chessboard of cosmic forces, and he's been playing a long game to gather them and ascend to unchallenged dominance."

Cutting through the niceties like a knife through a fog, I lay down the crux of our quandary. "How many pieces are we talking about, and how many has Azrael already snagged?"

"Azrael has only gotten his hands on one so far—the one from Marcus. It's a larger shard, which means it's giving him a significant boost in his abilities," he explains.

I tilt my head, a slow smile playing on my lips. "So, if Azrael's after Amara's fragment, what's with the buddy act? Why not just five-finger-discount it from her? Unless they've got some weird 'frenemy' thing going on that I don't know about?" My tone drips with incredulity and a hint of amusement.

Adriannods, his voice carrying an edge of solemn knowledge. "The stone has to be handed over willingly. It can't be taken by force—like your crown and thestonesyou control. Azrael's goal was to win Amara over to give him the shard freely so he could boost his power. But—"

"Then why the hell was it so easy for me to snatch Amara's piece right off her neck?" Realization dawns on me.

Adrianlooks at me, shocked at first, then thoughtfully nods. "I think it's because you wear the crown—the stone recognizes its rightful place is with you—the crown."

The gears turn in my head, pieces of this maddening puzzle slotting together.

I need details now. Every second counts. "Where's Azrael's stone?"

Adrianhesitates before answering quietly. "In a ring on his right hand. But breaching his defenses would be suicide."

I lift my chin, a steely edge shimmering in my eyes—determination and defiance blended. Turning toRhyland, I take in the silent storm brewing in his stance, every line of his body a testament to barely restrained fury.

Rhyland's voice is firm and unyielding as he breaks the silence. "We're going to get it, make no fucking mistake about that."

I take inRhyland's internal battle, the visceral churn of conflicting emotions within him. Love isn't a switch; you can't flip it off even when betrayal cuts deep. He might never forgiveAdrian. Yet, standing inAdrian's shoes, what lengths would I go to for those I cherish?

I need to know how souls are captured and sent to the underworld. "How does the Soul Stone work—how does it capture them?"

Adrianexplains, "The Soul Stone is more than a mere gem; it's a trap for wayward souls. It lures them with a glow only they can see and uses ethereal chains to pull them intoMoretemis's realm. Once absorbed, their essence bolsters his power."

Wayward souls. Untethered—the Soul-Tie. "What do you know about the Soul-Tie?" I blurt out.

Rhylandgoes rigid next to me, and I can practically feel his eyes boring into me, silently demanding an explanation. But he keeps his lips zipped, letting me handle this one.

Adrianleans in. "You know about the Soul-Tie?"

"It's a straightforward question,Adrian. Either you know what it is, or you don't. Which is it?" I shoot back.

"Yes," he replies, as simple as it is frustrating. "But I'm not aware of anyone capable of completing it. It's a lost cause."

Great. Another impossible task. But I signed up for this whole "savior" gig, right? Might as well embrace the chaos.

"Does a blood bond hold the same meaning—the same connection?" I ask, my voice urgent, needing to understand.

Adrian shrugs, "I believe it is similar, but our kind hasn't engaged in the mating process for centuries, so it's difficult to ascertain if the experience is precisely the same."

I let out a frustrated sigh. Rhyland has remained silent, and I can sense his confusion, knowing he must be wondering what on earth I'm talking about.

"If there's even the slightest chance I can help your family, consider me on board."

Adrian's eyes glisten with fragile hope. "I don't deserve your grace. But... thank you, Danica."

Rhyland's warning is laced with command. "Angel, stop. Don't feed him hope."

A sigh escapes, heavy with the burden of uncharted truths.

How can I paint a picture of the possibility for him to see?

I ponder, imagining the roles reversed. The thought solidifies my resolve—understanding dawns that in love, sometimes the unknown and the unseen are worth every perilous step into the void.

"What would you do if it was me?" I send the thought into Rhyland's mind.

He snaps his head, eyes burning with a fierce, predatory fire. "Stop. Don't you ever fucking think that way... This—us—is a whole different game. I'd gladly take a one-way ticket to hell and sell my soul if it meant saving yours. What that fucker did is beyond forgiveness,Dani."

I throw a sidelong glance atRhyland. "Rhyland, no one's downplaying the backstab bingo we're in. But humor me with a 'what if.' What he says is true—and I'm getting my mother out of the pit. Let's not tunnel vision on the betrayal. The truth is, we're neck-deep in bizarre, babe, and I'd wager we haven't even scratched the surface on this episode of 'As the Otherworld Turns.'"

Adrianglances at us, his expression a mixture of uncertainty and amusement. "Um, should I give you two a moment alone? I'd take off and let you talk, but..." He raises his wrists, the sound of chains clinking together punctuating his predicament, "I'm not exactly free to move around."

I slip some reprieve into my tone, easing off the throttle. "No, it... it's fine. We're on our way out as it is. We've got realms to save and villains to thwart, remember?"

Adrianlooks earnest, his request carrying the weight of his earlier actions. "I realize this might sound insane, and you have every right to say no, but could I come with you? I want to help. I need to make things right, Danica, please. Give me that chance."

Before I can even grasp the full meaning of his question,Rhyland's roar shreds the air, "Hell fucking no! Totally out of the question! You think I'm an idiot? To let you waltz back into our—"

"Yes," I say. "That's mighty big of you,Adrian. All hands on deck, right? We're not exactly swimming in allies—so your help? We'll take it."

A quick, coy sidelong peek atRhyland's handsome face twisted in ire, and despite the gravity of the predicament, I can't help but let a rogue smirk play across my lips. Overruling the Viking vampire's verdict adds an unexpected thrill to this perilous chess game. With a buoyant step, I pivot and ascend the stairs, leaving behind the cell—and his simmering dominance.

As I contemplate the future, a flicker of devilish anticipation sparkles in my thoughts.

Will there be repercussions for this bold move? Abso-fucking-lutely.

I'm practically betting on it, counting onRhyland's own brand of impassioned retribution. It's a price I'm willing—and secretly eager—to pay.