Chapter Forty-Six WITCHING MOON

Week Three, Day Ten

Year 3000

Ash had never asked Dianthe why she'd built cells deep in the heart of her beautiful seaside fortress. Perhaps the dreams of superstitious sailors sometimes manifested things that required containment, or perhaps she had simply imagined a day when their fallen brother would return to them in chains.

That day had finally come, but they had not brought back the Betrayer.

This was Sorin.

Though the man's new home existed deep beneath the castle, Ash would hesitate to call it a dungeon. The reinforced door, guarded by a young man whose rich voice could sing sailors from their ships, opened into a surprisingly well-lit room. Large globes made of sea glass blazed from the center of the ceiling, their wicks floating in the distinctive blend of oils used only at Seahold—a blend that combined the stony smell of fresh rain with the salty depths of the sea. A richly woven blue carpet covered the stone floor, and a neat wooden table sat on top of it, surrounded by four comfortable padded chairs.

The door occupied one wall. Each of the three remaining walls was dominated by simple iron bars that peered into comfortable but modest rooms. A decent-size bed had been draped with enough warm quilts to fight the damp chill, a bookshelf had been stacked with books, and a comfortable reading chair sat close enough to the bars to take advantage of the light. A screen portioned off a part of the cell meant for more personal affairs, a nod to privacy that could not truly exist, no matter how many woven rugs and bright quilts you added.

It might not look like a dungeon, but it was one.

Sorin sprawled on the bed to Ash's left, his back against the stone wall and his legs crossed at the ankles. An open book rested on his chest, but his hopeful expression sank when Ash pulled one of the chairs up to the bars.

"And here I was, hoping for some decent conversation."

As a jab, it was somewhat weak. Sorin had been making snide remarks about Ash's lack of intellect for so long that any possible sting had faded. If Sorin was so much smarter than Ash, after all, he should have been able to come up with some new insults. "You'll have to settle for me."

"Well, what is it these sailors say? Any port in a storm?"

"Don't worry. I won't bother you for long." Ash hesitated a beat, then let himself be petty in return. "Sachi is waiting for me at home, after all."

Rage broke through Sorin's placid expression for a heartbeat before he managed to wrest his features into something more like boredom. He looked away. And lied. "I don't want her anymore. She's nothing like I dreamed she'd be."

"Odd. She's everything I dreamed she'd be."

Sorin made a rude noise. "Well, then, congratulations, Ash. You've won again."

"I never wanted to win."

"You could have fooled me."

Ash finally sank into the chair and leaned forward, bracing his arms against the bars of the cell. "I never wanted to fight . You forced us to it."

"Because you wouldn't listen to me," Sorin snapped. "And then you got the Phoenix all riled up and they destroyed everything I'd worked for without even giving me a chance to explain how much good I could do with it."

Ash hesitated. During the dark nights since the truth about the Empire had been revealed, he'd been forced to admit there was some validity in Sorin's claims. So much of what Sachi had revealed about life under Sorin's rule had been straight from a nightmare ...

But not all of it.

In the midst of all those horrors, Ash had recognized echoes of the young man Sorin had once been. The one who had argued that it was their responsibility to ensure no one went hungry or homeless. That no one suffered illness untreated, or lacked the education that would allow a young mind to thrive. Sorin had argued that progress was the only path to equality, to a world where mortals could taste the wonders known only to the Dreamers.

"You can fly, Ash. What about those who can't? Is it fair to leave their feet forever bound to earth, just because they weren't born with the power you have?"

"You're right," Ash said finally.

Sorin's gaze flew to his, shock warring with suspicion as he slowly sat up. "What did you say?"

"I said you were right," Ash repeated. "Not in the end, when you were doing things too swiftly and too recklessly. But in the beginning. You had dreams, and some of them were good. Maybe if I hadn't been so resistant to how you wanted to achieve them, we could have found common ground on why ."

Those cunning hazel eyes narrowed. "At least you realize that you're the one to blame."

Typical. "No, Sorin. I'll take my share of it, but I'm finished letting you dodge yours. The pain you caused in your Empire is your burden to shoulder. You lost your way, brother."

"I'm not your brother," Sorin spat.

Ash ignored the bitterness. "You lost your way. You forgot your own why . That you wanted to help people find their own power and achieve their own dreams, not strip away everything they could be and take it for yourself."

Agitated, Sorin swung his legs over the side of the bed and rose. "That's not how it worked—"

"No," Ash cut him off. "I don't want to hear your excuses. Not about that." Even now, thinking about the reality of what Sorin had done was enough to stir incendiary rage. Ash had watched Lyssa struggle against the numbness, the fog that still seemed to drown her mind some days. He'd heard her shrieks of terror as nightmares chased her from sleep. She was trying to remember how to feel, how to want, how to be .

Rising, Ash gripped the bars of the cage. "What you did was an abomination. You stole their hopes, their dreams. Their chance to be anything more than what you saw as their most efficient use in your grand plan. Generation after generation after generation. That is your shame. Your sin." He exhaled roughly, fighting to keep his tone steady. "So is every cruelty your court inflicted upon them. And all the atrocities they'll continue to commit, until we find a way to stop them."

"They're their own people who make their own choices," Sorin snapped, pacing away.

"And you made them." Could he not admit it, even now? "You made them because you wanted your family back, just not one that would judge and fight you. You wanted one that would enable your worst impulses and do your dirty work, so you could maintain the illusion that you'd built a paradise instead of a nightmare. You let them do things to people that should haunt you to your dying day."

Perhaps he did understand on some level, because Sorin stiffened and looked away. The accusation hung there between them in the tense, miserable silence. When it became clear the Betrayer would not answer, Ash sighed and sank back into his chair. "Do you know what my greatest sin was, Sorin?"

"Must I pick only one?"

"I think you'll like this one."

"By all means, entertain me."

Ash sighed and stared up at the ceiling. "Complacency. That was my greatest sin."

Sorin's chuckle sounded forced, as if he was trying to regain control of the conversation. "Not the one I would have chosen, but I certainly can't argue with it."

"Who could?" Ash agreed. "I let you wreak havoc and sow terror for three thousand years."

That hit Sorin's pride. He whipped around with a scowl. " Let me?"

"I let you turn your Empire into a playground for the perversion of everything good, because as long as I could stay in my castle, I didn't care. I thought that was how I would keep the world safe—by avoiding you. By making sure we never came to blows again. Instead, I almost let you destroy us all."

Sorin opened his mouth, but Ash leaned forward and cut him off. "And do you know what the worst part is? The prophecy. The promise from the world that my consort would break the Builder's chains. The world whispered that to me when our blood on the dirt was barely dry. Hundreds of years before you forged those first chains. Because it knew. It knew I wouldn't stop you. That I would fail it so deeply, so profoundly. The world knew , somehow."

Sorin's chill hazel eyes held only hatred. "And yet you still got your prize."

Ash shook his head. "Sachi was never a prize. That's what you can't understand. She and Zanya aren't here to reward us for being good or punish us for being bad. They're here to set this world to rights. All I can hope is that someday I will be worthy of being their reward for a job well done."

Sorin surged toward the bars of the cell and grabbed them. Fists that once would have been able to bend or crush the metal closed helplessly around the bars—mortal hands, stripped of their capacity to do terrible harm.

"What job is left?" Sorin hissed. "Your witch robbed me of the power that was my birthright. She took everything from me. She should have killed me."

Ash laughed. "If you wanted that kind of mercy, you should have appealed to Zanya. She'd happily water the dirt of what's left of your Empire with your blood. Sachi is a more demanding woman. She expects you to help us."

"Help you do what ?"

"Save your people." Ash stood up. "Your Empire crumbles, Sorin. You stole their dreams and left them with nothing but fear and nightmares. The chains have broken, and new gods manifest every day. Some are born from the Everlasting Dream, and some from the Endless Void. All have powers we've never seen. They're scared and traumatized and angry, and they're tearing what remains of your cities apart. Terrors stalk your borders, too. Hundreds of them, born of nightmares given fresh power."

Ash wrapped his hands over Sorin's and leaned down, meeting his gaze with nothing but the scant space between the bars separating them. "God or no, you have valuable knowledge. You can help us. Or you can rot down here. The choice is yours."

For a moment, Ash thought it might be that easy. That the fragile spark of his old brother that was threaded through everything he did might burst into glorious being. He could have his family back, if not his powers. He could do what he'd always wanted and help people.

Sorin ripped his hands free of Ash's and staggered back. "You call that a choice?"

"It's more than you gave your people."

Sorin shot him a final withering glare. Then he strolled back to the bed, reclaimed his spot propped against the wall, and picked up his book. Pointedly, he turned the page and focused his entire attention on it.

Ash was dismissed.

Sighing, he picked up the chair and placed it back at the table. He nodded to the guard on his way past. His heart beat with each spiraling stair he climbed—rage and frustration and grief and his own guilt tangled into a ball that might take centuries to undo.

He had failed Sorin, just as he'd failed the world beyond his castle. But every day was a chance to make a different choice. To try again, to do better. Ash knew what his choice would be—to use everything he was to protect the people he had harmed with his complacency. To be worthy of the gift he'd been given when the world entrusted him with the power to see his dreams made real.

Maybe someday Sorin would make that choice, too. Until he did ...

The rest of them had an empire to save.