Chapter 46

Nylren

Blinding ruby rays crest the roofs of Daenia, and the Váyan sea shimmers as the sun sets, leaving just enough light to reveal the white flag flapping in the wind atop of our mast.

With Zetrea’s fleet at my back, I stand in Father’s shadow on the deck of our ship, still pitching in the waves. With each dip of the boat, the muscles in my legs strain, flaring with pain. I repress a wince.

Father glances at the white fabric flowing in the sky, and a grin tugs his lips.

Daenia’s soldiers have amassed on their docks, ready to launch their vessels at the slightest hint of our attack. Our peaceful disguise is holding them off for now, but there is no telling how long this semblance of truce will hold. I suppose it will last as long as the King allows it.

Father’s intense gaze sweeps the horizon as Dran steps forward.

“Launch the watercraft.”

The commander of Zetrea’s army barks orders and soldiers come alive.

A small vessel descends to the water moments later, and the scarred face general steps onto the rope ladder.

He disappears behind the wooden railing, his massive axe sheathed at his back.

“Bring out our guest.” Father snaps his fingers and the cabin door swings open.

Amrynn emerges from darkness, the skirt of her azure dress perfectly pleated, although her arms are tied behind her back.

With another snap of the King’s fingers, she’s freed of her bonds and a soldier digs his blade in her back to push her towards the railing.

Her eyes glaze over me, as if I am made of air, to stare down my father. His grin widens.

A snarls tears from Amrynn’s throat, but she keeps walking.

Feisty, but not to the point of having a death wish, she descends the rope ladder.

Several guards join her, and another two watercrafts join their expedition.

A brisk wind carries the splashing of oars until the roaring waves swallow that, too. I’m left to contemplate the white flags flowing in the breeze as the group rows forward.

“She will serve her purpose after all,” Father whispers to himself.

I bring the spyglass to my left eye as we wait for what feels like an eternity before the vessels reach Daenia.

Docking on a pontoon, Amrynn and Dran touch land before the rest of our soldiers join them, still carrying our white flags.

One of our men waves his flag pole in the air twice as enemies crowd the pontoon.

I flinch when Father’s laughter rings out.

“Send these fools into the abyss of the sea they love so much.”

I’m thrown off balance as an astounding blast echoes from the hull of our ship.

The spyglass breaks in my fall, cutting my hand.

Blood drips from my fingers, and shards of glass dig into my palm as I grip the railing to stand.

Father doesn’t spare me a glance, his eyes narrowed on the coastline.

I peer overboard in time to see more metal balls leave our hull in a thunderous explosion.

Blasts sound around us as the entire fleet opens fire on the city, and the docks descend into chaos with Father’s ruse revealed.

“Burn this city and kill all who resist.”

Father’s voice booms in my ears, his power increasing its volume tenfold.

Oars descend into the water and our ship leaps forward moments later, the wind having picked up in our sails.

I can’t make out what’s happening clearly without the spyglass, but the sight before me demands no interpretation.

The wind carries the echoes of the fight on the dock as projectiles tear holes through warehouses, sending stone flying.

The ship’s deck shakes with each volley and the wood creaks with the force of the blasts.

Several boats of Daenia’s fleet attempt to slow our progress, meeting us on the dark waters.

Metal balls fly everywhere and one hits the mast of an enemy frigate, splintering the wood. Another follows, damaging the hull.

A crash to our left tells us when two ships collide. Before long, enemies board the deck, swords drawn. Our soldiers engage them fearlessly.

The sea heaves in violent tumult beneath our warring galleons, hulls rocking amid explosions of cannon fire as infuriated commands ring out from each vessel’s deck.

With Daenia’s fleet sunken into the bay, the army unleashes fire on the city the moment we dock. Explosions fill the smoky air as our units swarm the quarters behind the harbor, setting the night sky ablaze.

Commander Dran leads the charge, his death squadron killing all in its path as they flood the streets filled with civilians evacuating.

Father and I remain with the King’s Guard at the back of the offensive, our steps following the destruction to the heart of the city.

The grey paving stones are repainted crimson and covered in dust. Mounds of smoking debris litter streets now exposed to open sky, where towers once scraped clouds.

My boots splash in puddles of brown water as we pass a majestic fountain now laying in ruins. Below, the canal runs choked with rubble, its surface glinting obscenely from slick traces of gore.

Collapsed parapets and bridges transform elegant avenues into clotted arteries, brick avalanches leaving bodies crushed in their wake.

The ground shakes beneath our steps as more blasts detonate in the distance, soon followed by screams.

My gaze lingers on exposed rooms, household tableaux frozen mid-scene, as we pass a side street. Shattered stained-glass windows hang by a thread onto walls blown open to reveal entire lives destroyed in the blink of an eye.

A glint catches my eye, and I freeze. A toddler is hiding in the shadows, squeezing the hand of his older sister and holding a small, dust-covered wooden boat.

My head snaps back to the main street when Father’s voice rumbles in my ears.

“What is it, boy?”

Keeping my breathing steady, I force myself to continue without glancing at the alley.

“Merely contemplating the depth of your power, Father.”

He wrinkles his nose at my comment, eyeing me in disgust, but my gaze goes to his neckline where the key to my freedom awaits.

Today, Daenia burns, and so do the flames of hope and treachery.

“Forward,” he commands, and our column resumes its advance.

Father’s wrath knows no bounds. He won’t stop until Daenia’s beauty is nothing but a memory. By morning, this place will have been razed to the ground, its sculptures, historical landmarks, and mosaic tiles reduced to rubble as Father turns the once-azure canals blood red. And by morning, I will no longer be the ghost of Nyths walking in my father’s shadows.