Chapter 39

UNA

The shadow fae male standing next to Morgolith was strikingly beautiful as well as unnervingly grave. His countenance was unreadable, though his red eyes were alert and watchful. Four smooth horns curled out of his head, adorned with decorative gold along the base and tips. His silver, gold, and black armor was fine but also scuffed in places from use. His dragon-like wings were folded at his back, the arched tips shooting tall toward the sky.

He held himself very still, his hands clasped at his back. But the blades at his waist told me he was always prepared for a fight, even if he appeared calm and docile at the moment.

"King Goll and Mizrah Una," Morgolith said formally, "please allow me to introduce Lord Vallon of House Hennowyn, high priest of Gadlizel."

My gaze flickered back to the decorative bands around his black horns. "Are you royal as well?"

His steady, red-eyed gaze skirted over my wings, then met mine with steely examination. "I am not."

Morgolith seemed to understand my confusion. "Shadow fae priests are very high ranking in their culture. They adorn their horns in gold as the royal family does."

Thinking of the fragile Elder Lelwyn, I could not help my blunt observation. "You do not look like a priest."

Goll stifled a chuckle at my side, clearing his throat. But he made no comment.

"You look like you're ready for battle, not the temple," I explained.

"The priesthood must always be ready. We honor the gods and keep their holy places well-guarded. We are protectors."

"What is it that you protect exactly?" I was trying to imagine there was some sacred temple with holy relics that these priests guarded, but from whom were they protecting it? If it was relics or a temple at all. And why would they need to? In Issos, and also as I saw in Silvantis, the locals revered and respected their gods' temples. They didn't need protection.

Vallon did not answer my question but asked one of his own. "What is it you are seeking in our lands, Mizrah?"

"Words," I told him. If he could be stoic and curt, so could I. I added, "Fortunately, I know exactly where to find them. The prophecy outlining where to find the third god-touched text I am seeking was specific enough that we are sure it's at or near Solzkin's Heart."

He kept his quiet examination for another moment, then said, "Then let us proceed. It is right through that grove of trees."

He walked ahead of us, which I found interesting that he trusted Goll and his warriors enough to leave them at his back. Or perhaps, he simply didn't see them as a threat, or he trusted Morgolith.

"He isn't friendly," I whispered up to Goll.

His mouth tipped up as he whispered back, "None of them are."

We followed the priest through a thin copse of thick-trunked oaks where orange leaves blanketed the ground. It wasn't even a woodland so much as a scattering of trees, like sentries on watch for Solzkin's Heart. I was excited to finally see it, a revered place to the shadow fae according to what Hava had told me one night on our journey. Apparently, the shadow fae held religious rituals there certain times of the year.

A giant boulder rose out of the ground into a triangular point, jutting upward like it was reaching for the sky. It was an odd-shaped stone twice as tall as the old oaks that surrounded it in sporadic display. It didn't seem to belong here as the stone was a darker shade than that of the foothill outcroppings of the Solgavia Mountains.Perhaps Solzkin himself had lifted it from somewhere else in the world and placed it here as an altar for the shadow fae, his devoted followers.

We were much closer to the vast mountain range where the shadow fae made their home, and we'd passed cliffs and caves as Drakmir had descended closer to the meeting point. Drak had taken back to the skies with an aggravated huff at the winged shadow fae in our presence.

A coiling burn began in my chest the closer we stepped toward the stone. Gods magick was present, radiating in tingling waves from the center point—Solzkin's Heart. Green lichen and vines grew along the sides of it, but the dark stone still showed through.

"I believe what you're looking for is on this side."Vallon stepped toward the center of the clearing where the stone faced south.

I wondered what riddle the Goddess Elska would show me now, or what form of text I might have to swallow. I shivered at the thought of words written in lichen where Vallon now stood looking up at the other side of the stone. Would I have to ingest mold of some kind? I pressed my palm to my belly, concerned for my babe and what effect the magick might have on him or her.

When I rounded to the far side, completely clear of vines and lichen, I wasn't prepared for what I found. Demon runes were chiseled into the stone, the same essence of the other god-touched texts emanating in waves of otherworldly energy. It prickled along my skin.

I stared up, dumbfounded and frustrated, then I turned to Goll. "How am I to swallow a boulder?"

The very stern shadow fae in our presence took a step forward, his expression finally having some emotion that resembled annoyance. "Mizrah, I am not certain what this quest of yours is about, but you cannot swallow Solzkin's Heart. It is sacred to my people."

I huffed out a breath, refraining from rolling my eyes. "I am well aware it's physically impossible. But I am sure this is where the Goddess Elska has been guiding me, and those are the words that I need." I looked around, wondering if perhaps I was wrong and there might be some other inscription or something else nearby. "I don't understand," I whispered more to myself.

Vallon's expression deepened into a scowl before he finally said, "As you said, it is impossible."

The thought of my people, my father, my brother suffering from the plague, dying even now, twisted my insides. Despair was beginning to sweep through me, for how could I have made it through the first two, only to have gotten to the third and not be able to accomplish the task? Why would the gods lead me here if only to be defeated now?

Goll had pressed a comforting hand to the small of my back, his deep, steady voice finally breaking the silence. "She doesn't need to swallow the stone. She only needs the words."

The way he spoke made me look at him in question. He was glaring at Vallon in a way that told me there was something I was missing.

Morgolith took a step closer to Vallon. "That is right. She only needs the words." Morgolith looked up at the stone, which had me then looking up at the engravings surrounded by thick branches of ivy but left uncovered. "Could he help us?"

Vallon's expression darkened further. "I do not see the possibility of him leaving Gadlizel to help a moon fae princess in her errand for the Goddess of the Wood," he spat rather cynically.

Morgolith said urgently, "Look at her . She isn't simply a moon fae." He gestured to my wings, the touch of darkness I wore. "She is more than that."

"Who could help us?" I asked.

Vallon's red-eyed gaze traveled back to me and to my wings. He did not answer. It was Morgolith who did.

"Prince Torvyn of Gadlizel has special abilities."

Vallon hissed at Morgolith, but I added quickly. "He can remove the words somehow?"

Vallon stared back at the stone, his irritated glare more prominent. "Again, it is not of our concern. What happens to the light fae is not of our concern." He said it with conviction, though there was a flicker of something in his eyes that resembled guilt.

A cracking sound from the stone made me jump. Then Goll had his arms around me, lifting me several feet back, all of us braced and staring at the sound coming from the stone.

But it wasn't the stone itself that was cracking. A vine as thick as my thigh that had climbed up the side of the inscribed words was lifting away from the surface of the stone.

I gasped when two emerald-green eyes opened from two leaves facing us. Trails of ivy dripped down around the eyes like hair.

"A dryad," I whispered, though I'd never heard of one like this before.

Goll stepped partially in front of me. Her mouth was carved from the bark of the vine. Spindly legs and arms made of other vines detached from the stone as she stepped down from where she seemed to have been attached for a very long time. Her dark-green vines of hair draped to the ground and around her thin, naked body, made entirely of bark.

No one said a word as she blinked at all of us then yawned, her leaves quivering, before settling those ethereal eyes on me. "I've been waiting for you." Her voice was strangely child-like, reminding me of Zu, Tikka, and Geta.

"You have?" I asked, stepping around Goll who kept a hand on my shoulder. "For how long?"

She blinked those leafy eyes, looking up as if to remember, then said, "Three thousand years. And one."

Soryn made a sound of surprise. Vallon shifted, but no one said a word.

"That's a long time," I said, my heart rate speeding wildly ahead.

She shrugged a shoulder as delicate as my wrist and flicked her ivy-leaf hair over her shoulder with long, twiggy fingers. "I waited a few hundred years then realized you might not be born yet. And might not be born for a long time to come. So I decided to sleep awhile."

"I see," I said. Then I thought of something and suddenly turned to Goll, "Can you understand what she's saying?" I wondered for a moment if I was speaking that old demon tongue he told me I did with the water sprites.

"Yes," answered Goll.

"They understand me," said the dryad, then she turned her head and looked at Vallon, her ivy hair floating unnaturally. "You are wrong, priest. What happens to the light fae is of your concern." She pointed one of those long fingers at me. "She has a part to play. As do you, priest."

While we'd all been thoroughly shocked by the sudden appearance of an ancient dryad, Vallon seemed cavalier and rather comfortable with the creature suddenly speaking directly to him.

"And what is mine?" Vallon asked her boldly.

She grinned, revealing a row of sharp, green teeth. "You shall see." Then she flipped her ivy hair over her shoulder again, reminding me of the court ladies at Issos when they were putting on airs, playing haughty to the fae of the court. "For now, you shall fetch your prince. He will give her the words." Then she turned a hardened gaze on him, her green eyes sparking brightly. "If you want to protect the mountain"—she glared and whispered eerily—"from all that dwell there, then you must do as I say."

I was confused for a moment because it seemed she should've said, " and all who dwell there," not " from ." But I wasn't about to question her. She was obviously helping my cause.

Vallon dipped his head reverently to the dryad. "I will return with Prince Torvyn." Then without another word, he bent his legs, beat his wings, and shot up into the air, leaving a whoosh of wind in his wake.

The dryad turned her green-eyed gaze on me, blinking with childlike wonder.

"He may be gone awhile," I explained.

She shrugged her shoulder again and leaned back against the dark stone of Solzkin's Heart. Some of the ivy still growing upon the rock reached out and wove into her hair and around her limbs, tangling between her twiggy fingers.

"I'll wait." Then she leaned her head back and closed her eyes, blending and melding back into the lichen and green growth along the rock as if she were never there.

Goll didn't waste a moment. He urged me with a hand at my back. "The Culled will be arriving over that ridge any moment." We'd seen the line of them making their way north from Meerland when Drakmir flew us from Windolek. "I'd rather we wait near the stream. We can make camp there."

The stream wasn't far, so we walked. Morgolith, Soryn, and Pullo pulled their mounts behind them and walked at our sides.

"Morgolith, what is it the prince can do to help me?"

He looked ahead of us, sternness creasing his brow. "Prince Torvyn is a dubsheeva."

I started, darting my gaze at Morgolith. "I thought those were myths."

"They'd like everyone to believe so. There aren't many that I know of."

Turning to Goll, I raised my brows, "An actual shadow shaper? He's not just one of the novgala?" The novgala were illusionists. They could use glamour and shadows to create remarkable illusions.

Morgolith shook his head. "Vallon is a novgala. He has the capability of casting illusion to a high degree. But the prince"—he gusted out a heavy breath—"I've seen him do remarkable things. And terrible ones."

I now realized why the dryad thought the prince could help me. The demon runes were carved into the rock. They were basically made of shadow.

"Is it true they can manipulate anything made of shadow?"

"As far that I know. But Prince Torvyn is elusive and guarded. I've rarely seen him use the gift firsthand."

"More guarded than his high priest?"

Morgolith chuckled. "They're a sober lot. That's for sure."

"No wonder Hava left their city."

"Indeed," he agreed, nodding his head toward the hill on the horizon. "She's too jovial for the shadow fae at Gadlizel."

At the front of the caravan now drawing closer, I could see Hava on the back of my sweet mare, Laurielle, waving wildly.

I laughed. "That is for certain." Then I took Goll's hand, and we went to meet them and set up camp.