19. Chapter Nineteen

Istare at the tray pushed through the small slot of my cell door hours ago. Calling the contents in the small weathered bowl food would be considered criminal. The dubious, thick, gelatinous gray sludge quivers slightly, as if it were alive. I shiver, imagining how it might come for me in my nightmares. A putrid smell emanates from it, like the stench of a decaying animal. Beside it lies a hard roll covered in a mold that reminds me of sickly green fur. The overall scene is terribly repulsive and makes me nauseous just being in its presence. I close my eyes, haunted by the images and sounds of the cubs greedily slurping at the meal, nipping, and growling at each other for the last scrape.

They don't deserve this. I don't deserve this. What is to come of us?

After Aramis departed, I scoped out my cell, looking for any weaknesses. They placed spells on the iron bars, repelling any magical attempts I made, trying to coax them open. But all that came from that pitiful attempt was an aching head.

Goddess help us.

I kick the bars, letting out a string of profanity. I'm so fucking tired of not being able to accomplish anything of worth.

The sound of a door gently opening and closing makes me pause my pacing. My mind wanders back to Aramis. It seems like days have passed since I last saw him, his expression full of shock and hatred as he observed the state I was in. He probably thought I got what I deserved, what any shifter deserves. A part of me can't help but hope my words have fuelled the few doubts he already had about the Queen's intentions, if not for my sake then for that of all the other shifters suffering in these cells. Maybe he will re-evaluate his certainties.

I strain to listen as quiet, deliberate steps make their way down the hall.

What if it's Kieran, back to bring me to the queen for another ‘session'?

My body temperature suddenly rises at the thought, leaving my skin hot and clammy. Unsteady on my feet, tremors run from my fingertips down to my toes and my heart seems to pound fast and hard. I take a deep breath and attempt to calm myself, but my chest tightens, and my breathing is quick and shallow. The world around me seems to shrink, my vision turning hazy; stars blinking on the periphery.

You're dying,the voice in my head says. This is what death feels like, and you're going to die alone.

"No!" I throw my arms out, grabbing the iron bars of my cage. The surrounding walls are closing in, inch by inch, from all directions. It's getting harder to breathe as the space around me continues to shrink. Each breath takes more effort than the last, as if the air itself is being squeezed out of my lungs. Panic sets in as I realize there's nowhere to go, no escape from this suffocating space. The walls continue to press in, unrelenting.

I will not go out like this!

Tears stream down my face as I clench my eyes tightly together. I force myself to take deep breaths, imagining my mother as she talks to one of her patients through a panic attack. I'd never had a panic attack before, but this must be what one feels like.

"Sybil." A rich male's voice breaks through my spiraling thoughts and memories.

"Sybil, get up. We have to go. Now." The urgency in his voice confuses me. It reminds me of my father, but he died over ten years ago. I slowly open my eyes, blinking away the tears as I peer through the bars.

"Come Sybil." The deep tenor resonates in me, and I recognize the tone. "We need to go. Now." He commands.

I know this voice.

"Nero?" I question from the ground, my tear filled vision clearing. He glances in both directions, then back at me. Taking a key ring from his pocket, he slides it into the lock. The door opens with a click, groaning slightly as he pulls it open. "What's going on? What are you doing down here?"

I remain stunned on the ground looking between him, the open cell door, and down the hall. He reaches out a hand.

This must be a hallucination or a trap. It must be, because why would he want to help me?

"We have nae time for questions. I'll explain everything later." Nero gently grips my forearm, but my body is too out of sync to make the progress to stand. Nero pulls me to my feet, steadying me. "We have nae time to linger, do ye understand? Come!" He throws a dark, thick cloak around my shoulders, quickly buttoning it around my throat and pulling the hood over my head.

"But. What—" I quickly register what is happening and glance at the cell behind him. Two pairs of eyes blink at me from the darkness.

"Do ye want to escape, or stay here as Queen Tricella's personal power reserve?" He hisses, tugging roughly at my hands in the opposite direction of the hall that he came from.

"You knew?" I glare directly in Nero's eyes, pulling out of his grasp. "What about the other shifters? Did you know about them?" I cross my arms over my chest, resolute in my stance. I am not going anywhere until I have more answers.

"Sybil, this is nae the time to be stubborn! Of course, I know about them but we cannot help them at the moment. Ye are my priority right now."

I raise my brows at him in disbelief. "Really!?" What a callous, son of a—

"I am working with the rebels to free them," Nero replies gently. Uncertainty crosses over his face as he watches my utter disregard and disbelief.

"The rebels don't exist. The Queen made it all up. I don't trust you, you are lying to me," I say, frustration lacing my every word. How is it possible that every person in this kingdom is corrupt?

I take a step away from him, weighing my options. There is no way I'm trusting my life with him–no matter how friendly we've been with each other. His kindness to me could just lead me to a trap. I'm light on my feet and he doesn't possess wind magic like Aramis does. If I get a head start, there is a chance I can outrun him. I have to try.

"Ugh. Stubborn females." Nero grumbles under his breath. "That's what ye are–ye keen that, right?" He roughly pushes back his hood. "Fine. Ye want to know why ye ken trust me? Take a look at this." His eyes take on a glow of living flame, iridescent blue and purple scales manifesting up his neck and the skin of his face.

A fire drake.

A gasp leaves my lips. The sound of my breath echoes through the quiet room, the only noise breaking the silence. The sharpness of the moment is palpable, like a knife cutting through the stillness.

I knew it.

"You're a—" I gasp, leaning in to touch his forearm. "Nero—you're-–"

"I ken what I am," Nero grabs my wrist to guide me out of the dungeons. "Let's go. Be quiet. We can nae afford questions now. If we run into anyone, act docile. If they ask questions, I'm escorting ye to the queen's private chambers." Nero grabs a torch from his belt and lights it from the sconce on the wall before heading down the dark hallway.

***

As we make our way through multiple halls and stairways, each one guiding us deeper into the depths of the castle, we come across a chilling sight. The cells we pass by are completely empty, except for the presence of iron chains hanging from the walls and the floors covered in decaying bones. Continuing down another hall, we encounter wide metal doors, devoid of any adornments except for a small window near the floor, just large enough to slide a tray under. This raises an intriguing question: What kind of creatures could possibly necessitate the use of such formidable iron doors, reinforced with powerful spells to keep them securely locked inside?

We cross through another set of doors when Nero sweeps his arm out across my chest. The stone wall collides with my back, sending a jolt of pain through my body that knocks me breathless as he pins me. The flame of his torch extinguishes, leaving us in darkness. He pushes his warm body up against mine, covering us both with his cloak, and lifts a finger to my lips in warning. I hear the faint sounds of voices talking up the path ahead. Trembling, I force myself to take small, even breaths.

I can't be caught again.

There is a tingle of magic in the air. My jaw drops as I slowly watch his body and my hands take on a translucent appearance. Panic grips my gut and I push towards his solid chest, a reassurance that he is still there. His steady heart beats under my palms, as real as my own.

What is this magic?

I'm torn between fascination and fear as I listen to the approaching guards. The light of their torches dances along the walls as they get closer, then turns down walking straight towards us and my eyes widen as I watch them approach.

Nero presses his body tighter against me, as if willing us both to melt into the wall. How is this even possible? I am in awe and incredibly scared of the magic I have witnessed since leaving my home. There is so much I've yet to discover, so much to live for. Before me, Nero shifts, raising his hand as I watch the guards' torches flicker and dim, casting us further in darkness.

"Fuck Roy! What was that?" One of the guards shouts with a glance at his torch.

"I don't know, but being down here near the catacombs always gives me the creeps," Roy replies, visibly shivering. "I heard a rumor that the ghosts of the kings and queens of the past haunt these halls. I can't wait until we aren't on this shitty new recruit duty anymore. Let's go." They quicken their pace, passing by us without a second glance. Once they are out of earshot, Nero steps away. I exhale and rub my arms, attempting to vanquish the coldness that's seeping into my skin.

"What was that?" I ask.

"I just made us invisible." Nero answers as if it's the most normal thing in the world, a quirk turning his lips into a smile. He relights the torch with a snap and continues down the path.

"What happened to, ‘I'm going to pretend you're a prisoner being delivered to the queen'?" My tone is full of doubt, but I hurry, nevertheless, to keep up with his long strides. Pulling my cloak tighter around my body, I'm grateful for its thick warmth as the temperature has dropped several degrees in our descent.

"Plans change," he says curtly. "Here, hold this." Handing me the torch, he pulls out another set of keys as we reach an enormous rusty iron door. Based on the number of cobwebs and dust coating it, I doubt anyone has opened it in years.

"What other tricks and secrets do you have up your sleeves?" I raise a brow in question.

He peers over his shoulder, his teeth gleaming mischievously in the light of the fire. "How do ye feel about corpses?"

The air is cool and still as we step into the darkness. Nero firmly pushes the wooden door closed, creating a loud thud that reverberates through the abandoned room. The sound of our breathing punctuates the silence that follows the noise, amplified by the emptiness of the room. The sudden movement disturbs dust, filling the air with the scent of stale, musty earth. As the particles settle, the feeling of unease settles in as the darkness envelops us, illuminated only by the faint light seeping in through the cracks in the door. My senses heightened by the eerie atmosphere. I wave my arm, clearing the air before me. Three domed archways shape the large room, with one directly in front of us and two on our sides.

"Welcome to the crypt, lass," Nero says with a flourish of his hand.

"A crypt," I repeat flatly, turning to face him. "Why would you bring us to a crypt? There is nothing here except dead ends and dead people."

"Aye, well, that is where ye are wrong, Sybil." He taps me on the nose and winks. "Luckily for ye, I happen to ken this particular crypt has a secret exit. When Aramis and I were little lads—""

I shove my hands into his chest, my blood boiling with rage. Goddess, grant me the patience I need to deal with this bullshit.

"I don't want to hear some story about when you and his royal highness were children. If you knew about the exit, why haven't you freed my people? Our people?" I narrow my eyes at him as I shove him once more.

"Sybil–" Nero protests. "Come on. It's just a—"

"How about we begin with why you have been assisting the arresting, and locking up our people in these dungeons in the first place?" I let my fueled anger lace every word. He grips my forearm in argument and I buck out of his grasp. The audacity of this asshole is incredible. My horn materializes on my forehead, my vision slowly sharpening using the little magic I am able to conjure. My heart beats faster as adrenaline rushes through my veins, causing my hands to shake slightly as I continue to back away. But a wide smile spreads across my face, a mixture of shock and glee filling me as I revel in the comfort of my demi-form. It has been too long since I was in anything but my human shape, powerless and weak.

"Nae, Sybil, wait." Nero lifts his hands into the air. Scales form along his arms and up his neck, a living armor. "This is incredibly complicated, and this takes more than just a moment of conversation. I need ye to work with me here. Please? Just listen for a moment, and if I don't answer yer protests to yer satisfaction, ye can gouge me with that horn. I swear!"

Stepping back, I warily watch him. I still need him. I could get lost for hours or days if I tried to find the exit down here myself.

"Fine," I say, each word enunciated. "Explain yourself. And make it quick. You don't have a lot of time." I stamp my foot, tossing my hair over my shoulder.

"Aramis doesn't ken–" he pauses, his hands clenching at his sides "–yet."

"What do you mean he doesn't know yet?"

"I didn't ken I was half fire-drake until I was well into my maturity." Nero pauses, making sure I'm still listening. I arch my brows in doubt. Well? "Ma mother was a fire mage, a well-respected lady in the court," Nero continues. "My da was a traveling merchant and a draken. From what she says, it was love at first sight."

I tap my toe impatiently on the floor. I love stories, but I have my people to free. Not to mention escaping.

"He begged her to go away with him, see the world, but she told him she had a role to play here in Shadowvale and to return to her to settle down. He died at sea during his final voyage. My mother did not even have a chance to tell him she was pregnant with me." Nero patiently explains. I furrow my brow in concentration. Where is this going?

"Aramis' mother was killed nearly a decade later, leaving us both without a parent, and essentially pushing us closer together. Rumors spread about a group of rebel shifters responsible for the assassination of the queen, wanting to overthrow the long line of Elemental rulers in Shadowvale and have a seat at the royal table. But as always, rumors come and go. Until, to the shock of the court, the king announced his engagement to Tricella, and coincidentally, wild accusations of shifters attacking villages started resurfacing, igniting the tension between elementals and shifters. When I began showing signs of my fire ability, everyone chalked it up to inheriting my mother's powerful fire mage skills, but then I started exhibiting other odd abilities. My mother, in her attempt to protect me, told me everything about my father's real identity and made me swear to keep it a secret. As you can imagine, halflings don't have it easy in either community. By that time, Aramis and I were the best of friends. I was not only his deepest confidant, but sworn in to be his right hand."

I nod my head in acceptance, prompting him to continue with his story.

"Aramis doesn't ken my truth. For years, I was scared to tell him. How could I?" Nero laughs, clearly frustrated. He runs his fingers through his hair and sighs. "The rebel group exists, Sybil, but it is not what Aramis believes it to be. It was created after Tricella became queen to protect the shifters from her attacks, from her demonic monsters. As a lady of the court, my mother, Evangeline, was among the firsts to uncover Tricella's machinations to stir chaos within the kingdom. She risked her life, her reputation, to warn the shifter community of Tricella's use of dark magic. My mother was an extraordinary woman, Sybil." A subtle, tender smile plays on Nero's lips, each word spoken with a gentle cadence, and I can feel his pain echo within my own heart.

"I've been working with the rebel group since my mother died twenty years ago, taking her place on their counsel. Despite being an Elemental, she had been deeply in love with a shifter and she had a halfling son, so she did everything she could to ensure I could live in a world where I would nae be persecuted for the natural color of my skin, or my race." His final words are accompanied by a ripple of magic as his skin takes on a deep purple blue, glittering with scales. There is a delicate sadness in his eyes but also determination radiating like an unyielding flame.

"I ken ye believe Aramis is just like his father and stepmother, but I swear to ye Sybil, he is nothing like them. His father was a great king until that witch Tricella came into the picture. All this mess. It's her fault. She corrupted his mind, convinced him the shifters killed his wife and attempted to kill his son just so she could take his throne. Aramis has had nothing but Tricella's poisonous words in his ears since he was a lad." Nero gently takes my hand and intently looks into my eyes. "But I see him, Sybil. I see the pain in his eyes every time we are sent to capture those innocent people. I just don't know how to help him see past the years of lies and deceit."

I know Nero is telling the truth, but changing Aramis's mind is no longer my responsibility. Goddess knows, I have allowed him to break my trust too many times. Within my heart, I know he will accept the truth that is right in front of him, if he only allows himself to be his authentic self , for once. Not the Aramis tormented by his duty, but the loving man that helped an orphaned kid and took him under his wing. The Aramis that gently laid next to me with worshiping eyes and solemnly told me I was brave, at a time when I only felt weak and pathetic. But I can no longer sit and wait. My responsibility now lies with all those children, men and women, unjustly tortured in the dungeons. My people. All my life I have been looking for a purpose and for the first time, I know what to do and I am not scared.

"Help me escape. Take me to the rebels."