Chapter 28

Chapter

Twenty-Eight

TRESSYA

"Was that your doing, Tortilus?" Selisimus had asked, his concern seemingly more focused on the magic used to bring down the wall than on our final escape from the tunnels under Emberforge.

Tortilus at first had stammered, "I…um...it's possible, yes. I mean, I was focused on the spell at the time, considering all the alternatives in my mind that could complete it effectively." Then his explanation had gained momentum. "It's likely I inadvertently conjured up something entirely different that accomplished the task with far greater proficiency."

It was Bryra, ignoring Tortilus' excited explanation, who'd faced Tamas. "How did you do that?" Which got everyone's attention.

"It wasn't me," Tamas replied, but avoided meeting anyone's eyes, including mine. He was lying. The Eone was responsible. Initially, Tamas seemed as shocked as the rest of us at what he'd done, so I could only imagine this was a new level of influence from the Eone, one Tamas never expected. The possibility that they could enact magic through him was something I didn't want to face right now.

For the rest of the journey down the mysterious tunnel, we stayed silent until we reached the end of the tunnel to find a door, which gave way under the might of Bryra's beast.

"Heading north would've been a terrible idea," Osmud said, the only one brave enough to step out of the passage and onto the loamy soil, covered in thick knotted roots clawing their way out of the strangling creeper. After the stagnant, oppressive air of the passage, the fresh breeze, albeit carrying the stench of fetid, animalistic filth, was a welcome relief. "So this is it," he breathed, arching his head back to the sky.

Tamas adjusted his pack, sweeping everyone into his glance. "We shouldn't linger here gawking."

He disappeared off into the Ashenlands, leaving all eyes on me.

"Tamas is right. If we linger here, we risk being caught by either the Salmun or the creatures of the Ashenlands."

"By creatures, you mean the abominations we faced while escaping the manor?" Plesy said.

"Those and worse," I replied, striding after Tamas until I noticed Andriet wasn't following.

I glanced back to see him standing at the entrance of the passage, which appeared as a wide fissure in the fabric of the Ashenlands, exactly as depicted on the map.

"Tressya?" Selisimus said. "We must be away."

I held up my hand. "Just a minute." And I crossed back to Andriet, who remained in the passage.

"I don't know what's come over me." He pressed a hand to his chest. "A spirit. What do I have to fear?"

This was his rightful home, and I was meant to return him. There was no doubt Gusselan's tale was true. Perhaps not in every detail, but certainly in the most crucial aspect: the part where I had created a perilous rift in the divide between the living and the dead by freeing Andriet from his place of death.

I stepped toward him. How did I say this without hurting the both of us? "Andriet, I made a dangerous mistake?—"

"Nope." He shook his head. "I won't hear it."

I closed my eyes, gathering the strength I needed to admit the truth aloud. This was my fate: to rectify my mistakes and to endure the pain that would come with it.

"Freeing you?—"

"Was your redemption for your multitude of lies and betrayals. I have seen the depths of your treason. My family lost their lives because you kept your secrets, and now I suffer. I was never meant to be here. You know that, Tressya. This was never to be my home. Cirro was my queen and Daelon my heart, but your actions took my family and stole my future." He reached for me in a silent plea, as if longing to touch me, but fearful of stepping into the Ashenlands lest he never return. The sorrow in his eyes pierced my heart. Hot tears burned at the back of my eyes.

"Andriet," I groaned, wishing I could succumb to cowardice and turn away, leaving him to continue his death in happiness. How could I find the strength to banish my one dear friend forever to the Ashenlands?

"But I returned to you, dearest friend, even though you ran from me. I returned to you because my heart bleeds when we're apart, and I want you to know I forgive you for your crimes because you have given life to my death."

Why did he have to say that? Because redemption was never meant to be painless. "It's likely my actions have ripped the divide between the living and the dead."

Andriet shook his head. "I'm sorry I can't feel anything but joy. I was once an honorable man, but death reduces us all to equals, so there's little point in trying to be anything other than selfish. I want the death you've granted me."

"At the expense of everything else."

"What else is there for me to worry about?"

He reached for me, stopping a breath's distance from touching me. "Look at this place, Tressya. You know its perversion, born of a malignancy, spreading like a disease, infecting the land to its very edges. You've experienced its malevolent embrace. Deep in your heart, you know I was never meant to spend my eternal days confined here."

Had it not been for me, Andriet might have died a natural death, his soul liberated from the agony of his limbo, hovering just beyond the veil of the living, tormented by witnessing life without ever being able to partake in it.

My guilt for what I'd done would be eternal, and for the sake of the seven realms, I should rectify the damage I'd caused. However, staring into Andriet's pleading eyes, I couldn't bring myself to make that choice, knowing it would be my ultimate betrayal to my best friend .

"Go back to Daelon, Andriet."

"Tressya," he gasped, verging on tears, which he would undoubtedly shed if he could. "My queen," he whispered, stretching one hand toward me, but never able to touch, forever trapped as he was within the curse of his maligned death.

Only the future would reveal the chaos I had unleashed upon the seven realms, but with Tamas possessed by the Eone and the Mother's spirit residing within me, the disruption to the balance of the natural cycle was inevitable. Therefore, I believed granting my best friend joy in death was my private path to absolution.

For all the times my heart was torn apart, his visible relief stitched it back together, his dry tears the thread.

"I'll return victorious." I wouldn't dwell on the Eone, their schemes, the future they envisioned, or that even as mere spirits, they could empower Tamas. Nor would I concern myself with the Mother's plans, because to win, I had to believe in myself and trust that I could handle any challenge ahead; to doubt was to fail.

"And when you do, you shall expunge the Ashenlands from the seven realms."

"I shall do one better and obliterate the Salmun."

"It's crazy how much I believe in you, despite the devastation you've brought upon my family. I've struggled with my feelings for my brother my entire life, and my father… I should've felt so much more upon their deaths, but I didn't." He shook his head, then gave me a wry smile. "I knew the moment I met you, you would be trouble of the most delectable kind. I knew everything was about to change; I ju st never anticipated the magnitude of what you were about to accomplish."

"Tressya," Tamas called.

Andriet crossed his hands and placed them on his heart. "Forever my heart. Now go, your beastly beast is calling you."

I gave him one final, lingering look, certain I had made the wrong choice in sparing him from his death place, yet oddly calm with my violation of the natural order. I should savor this moment, for it was unlikely I would find peace again soon.

"Let Daelon live his life without you. That's the kindest gesture you can make."

"Of course, my sweet. Whatever you say."

His wink would normally signify trouble, but Andriet loved Daelon too much to ever hurt him.

"Are you done?" Tamas said from beside me.

"Andriet has decided not to join us," I replied, forcing my attention on Andriet.

"I will haunt your days from now until eternity if you ever dare to harm her."

I smiled at his hollow threat, touched by the affection at its core.

"It seems night is drawing near," Tamas said, taking my hand.

I glanced up at the darkening clouds, obscuring the sun. "Or the Ashenlands is smothering the daylight."

"Either way, we should bury ourselves in the forest before we stop for the night. I'm sure the Salmun aren't far behind."

"I'll slow them down for you, Tressya, my dear. There are plenty of my brethren wandering these stone walls, enough to form an army. Although we cannot physically touch them, we'll ensure they find it exceedingly unpleasant to pass through here."

I mouthed a thank you. "Andriet says he'll gather an army of the dead and bar the entrance to the Ashenlands. It won't be impenetrable, but it may slow them up, and give us a better head start." I glanced over my shoulder as Tamas led me away, to see Andriet still lingered in the passage's exit.

"How many dead are there in Emberforge?" With a gentle tug of his hand, Tamas slowed our pace, keeping us behind the rest of our party.

"I'm not entirely sure. They don't always make themselves known. Obviously King Ricaud and his?—"

Tamas jerked me to a stop. "King Ricaud? You've seen King Ricaud? In Emberforge?"

"It's where the final battle was lost."

"You've spoken to him?"

"Briefly, the first day you sat on the throne."

His gaze looked beyond me, and I could tell his mind was turning inward, delving into the depths of his memories. "It was him."

"You felt him, didn't you?"

He blinked, then looked down at me, his dark eyes inscrutable for the thoughts locked inside. "It was the beginning." But Tamas had usually proved willing to keep the doors of his mind open for me. I couldn't fathom why he was honest most of the time, except for a sincere belief there was something special between us. And he wasn't alone. I'd betrayed everyone to be with him .

"I defied my fate for a long time. But feeling the spirit of King Ricaud pass through me altered my perspective. In that moment, I grasped the weight of my destiny."

"He rejoiced in knowing you. He believed his line was long dead."

Tamas wiped a strand of my limp hair from my cheek. "I made the right decision to fight for my place on the throne." Then he grazed his thumb across my bottom lip. "And my place beside you."

The Ashenlands and its perils vanished from my awareness, eclipsed by the gentle, feather-like caress of his thumb—mesmerizing, enticing, and powerful in its ability to bind me to him as firmly as the mark on my wrist. My mind turned to vapor, leaving me unable to think beyond wrapping my lips around his thumb.

The pulse of my heart flowed down to become the heavy throb between my legs, painful in waiting and wanting, until the mild stench of sewers, rotted meat and aged blood distracted me. I glanced down at my clothes, realizing for the first time how disgustingly filthy I was, stained by our desperate escape and fight: dried sweat, black blood, and a plethora of unidentifiable marks.

Sensing my thoughts, Tamas replied. "We wear our filth with honor." Why did he always make me feel as though we existed in a dream?

I smiled. Falling. As I always did whenever Tamas released the full potency of his power to make me want him. That was until his eyes seemed to devour my lips as a smug smile played on his own. Rather than wrap my lips around his thumb, I secured it firm between my teeth.

He sucked in a breath, baring the tip of sharp fangs. "You're always captivating when you're vicious."

"Never think I'm entirely entranced. I preserve enough of my sanity to remain wary."

"But you are entranced, and that's all that matters." And he flicked the tip of my nose with a finger, making me release his thumb.

He leaned down, closing the gap between us, bringing the promise of savage kisses, euphoric dreams, and the freedom from the chains that bound us to our future for one perfect moment. And this time I was totally and utterly enchanted, ready to die staked by our enemy just for one exquisite taste of him.

"You must know the truth about the mark. About what we are to each other." It was all he could say before he leaped away, doubling over as he clutched his stomach, before lifting his head and roaring in fury. His face flushed crimson, his eyes rolling into the back of his head.

Damn those bloody Eone. Why now? They must truly despise me to attack him like this, just as he was about to profess what lay in his heart.

"What did you do?" Osmud snarled, charging upon us.

I grabbed his arm and yanked him away from Tamas, refusing to backdown when he turned his venom-laced glare on me. "It's wiser to stay back."

Teeth bared, I watched as Osmud's fangs extended, dripping blood onto his lower lip before it ran in streams down his chin.

Behind him, Tamas sunk to his knees. "You bastards," he bellowed. "You fucks. "

"You'll make it easier for him if you give him space." I tried to sound calm and reasonable amongst Tamas' hysteria.

"Is there nothing we can do?" Bryra said, coming alongside us. There was no accusation or judgement in her eyes, only concern. For that, I was grateful.

"They want to silence him. He has to learn how to fight them."

"Fight who?" Osmud growled, but Tortilus saved me from answering.

"I'm sure there's something we can do." Tortilus waved his hand to gather the other apostles around him. "Quickly, Selisimus," he urged as he spun, giving Selisimus his pack. "I need to retrieve the Chronicle of Ages."

"A lingering effect from the Salmun's curse, perhaps."

"It's very possible, Plesy. Let's consult."

My arms ached to cradle Tamas close to me, take his burden, fight his fight like I knew he would do for me, but his pain was because of me and the truth he was about to tell me. Touching him would likely exacerbate his anguish, because it was me the Eone wanted to destroy.

"What do you think about this one?" Plesy said.

"It's too lengthy, and the potential side-effects are too damaging," Tortilus replied.

"Forget it," I told them. "The worst is over."

I took a tentative step toward him as his breaths quietened, and his body visibly relaxed. He remained hunched over in the creeper, his eyes drifting closed as if channeling all his concentration.

"Tamas?" My voice was soft, cautious .

It was as if time itself held its breath.

Beside him, I bent, touching my hand to his back. The horror unfolded so suddenly, my mind lagged, but my instincts were fast enough to save me. His reflexes were blindingly fast, but my gradual transition into a Razohan gifted me the speed to spring backward, out of reach of his swiping claws. His snarl echoed through my ears, followed closely by another, and I realized it was me.

Tamas sprang to his feet, launching himself at me with ferocious speed, his face flushed red, a contortion of agony and fury. I barely dove away as the tips of his claws skimmed past my face with a whoosh of air from the power behind the swipe of his arm.

Someone yanked me away from behind with such force I stumbled to keep my footing and went down on my side. The enormity of Bryra's beast landed between us, bellowing a warning cry to Tamas.

Tamas responded with an equally threatening roar, only to sound strangled at the end. And that was the moment he won his fight against the Eone and crumbled to the ground.

With Bryra between us, I couldn't see his face, but I knew the devastation he would feel, the belief in his own weakness. He would be dying inside.

Slowly I rolled from my side to sitting, wincing at the pain from landing on a protruding root. I pressed a palm where it ached and felt the sticky damp. When I pulled my hand away, I saw blood. But the blood and pain became inconsequential compared to the significance of seeing claws where my fingernails should be.

"Tressya," Tamas rasped, as Bryra resumed her half-beast form.

He crawled across the ground toward me, his eyes haunted by his torment.

"Did I hurt you?" His gaze caught my blood, soaking the clothes around my hip. "I did," he wailed in anguish.

"You didn't. I fell. Forget it."

"I won't. You know I can't."

I battered his probing hands away. "You weren't quick enough to reach me, beast." And I shoved my claws in front of his face, close enough, one move, and he could've lost an eye.

He sat back, focusing on my claws. "Tressya," he gasped, his voice filled with awe. "This is…" He seemed at a loss for words. Instead, he took my hand and gently pulled it toward him, inspecting my claws. He ran his thumb across the sharp tips, and I marveled at the reverent care in his touch.

"She hasn't come to you fully yet, but this is still a significant moment. You're becoming who you really are. Strong and powerful." He raised my hand to his lips, closed his eyes, and placed a slow, deliberate kiss on my claws, warming my skin with his breath. I wanted to cradle this moment, shielded from our enemies' hatred and greed, but I had abandoned such fantasies long ago. Finally, Tamas lifted his lips and his eyes met mine. "My queen of both north and south, you're well and truly one of us."

It seemed Tamas wove a spell, entrancing everyone, for no one spoke. Our flight, the fight, the tension—all of it disappeared, leaving us suspended as if in a trance. I sensed that if I had been born in the north, celebrations would have followed this moment. Instead, we had to bury ourselves deeper into the Ashenlands, away from any pursuers, forgetting for a while that my beast and I were almost finally united.

"Your Maj—Tressya, what does this mean?" Tortilus finally broke the spell.

"It means, Tortilus, your queen has deceived you," Osmud added.

"Northerner blood runs through my veins." I informed the apostles, then narrowed my eyes on Tamas. "And it seems a sudden fright, or perhaps a fight, would speed my full transition." I arched a brow at Tamas. "My beast came forth to protect me just now."

His expression turned to winter. "Not on your life." He slowly rose to his feet as if not ready to release the small wonder of the moment, then offered me his hand. "Didn't you learn anything from what just happened?" He quirked a brow.

"Is someone going to tell us what did just happen?" Osmud said.

"You know, the only way you'll defeat them is to expose yourself to their influence. Repeatedly. It will weaken their whispers and strengthen your will."

"Who is them ?" Osmud continued.

"You can't comprehend the struggle I'm facing, how pervasive they can be. They're in my head, Tressya." He jabbed a finger to his temple. "Sometimes their thoughts, their emotions—" he slapped his chest "—feel like my own."

I took his hand, and he pulled me to my feet, and I stepped toward him, placing my hand on his chest. "Then fight. Test the boundaries, dare to push beyond them, dare to destroy them and make your own. You're stronger than them. I know you are."

"Twice now I've nearly killed you. How is that strong?"

"Don't flatter yourself. You're alive because I aimed a little lower."

Tamas fixed me with his glare, his eyes darting between the two of mine. I could feel the violence of his stare, a desperate attempt to convince me he was right. But I truly believed he was wrong. "You may question yourself, but I don't."

Suddenly, he grabbed the back of my neck and pulled me toward him, kissing me with a fierce intensity that left me with no choice but to surrender. I fell into him, wrapped as much of myself around him and discovered with every sweep of his tongue the sheer pleasure of letting go, submitting to a craving so deadly, so unrelenting in its hold, I felt naked and hollow without it. He kissed me, and kissed me, using his tongue to bind us as deeply as his bite, stripping doubt and fear, descending us into a place where we couldn't hide from each other, where all secrets were bared. It was a bondage of raw honesty, frightening in its possibility, compelling in its promise.

In his kiss I felt his heartache for what he'd done, what he believed he could do, and his desperate need to avow it would never happen again. It was a sorry from the depths of his heart, and I responded by snaking my arms around his neck, tangling my fingers through his hair, dancing my tongue with his, pressing my body against his so that I felt him come alive; my secret language of forgiveness, acceptance, and strength.

He's here, he'll always be here, no matter the challenge, no matter the pain, no matter our fates; that was the answer his kisses gave my starving, yearning heart. And I unfurled.

"Okay, we get it," Osmud grumbled. "Before you two get naked, we have some serious distance to put between us and this passage."