Chapter 10

Ten

T he first thing Aric became aware of was the throbbing in his head.

It was a dull, insistent ache, like a hammer pounding against his skull, demanding to be heard. Groaning, he tried to lift a hand to press against his aching head, only to find his arms wouldn't move. His eyes flew open, the sudden brightness sending spears of white-hot pain lancing through his head, and he let out a pained cry.

Aric's vision swam, the outlines of his surroundings blurry and indistinct. He was sitting on the cold stone floor of a cell, the air dank and musty, the only light filtering in from a high, narrow window set in the stone wall high above. The cells, he realized with a jolt, were the same makeshift dungeons beneath Drindal where he and Malekith had found the human prisoners just a few nights before.

The sight of the cells, the memory of the terrified and defiant faces of the prisoners, lit a fire in Aric's veins, momentarily overpowering the pain and disorientation clouding his mind. How could he have been so foolish, so reckless to lead the demons into a trap, then allow himself to fall right into Vizra's snare?

But as the pounding in his head grew louder, the memories came flooding back. The confrontation with Vizra, his arrest, the desperate, futile struggle as the guards dragged him away from Malekith. His heart ached as he recalled the look on Malekith's face, and he cursed himself for being such a fool.

And yet, despite everything, a bitter, humorless laugh bubbled up from deep within him. He had spent his entire life trying to protect his people, to do what he believed was right. And in the end, he had only succeeded in landing himself right back where he started.

A prisoner, once again, in his own damn homeland.

The laughter echoed off the cold stone walls of the cell, the sound of it almost alien to his own ears. But he couldn't stop the mirthless, broken sound of it as he slumped back against the wall, the cool stone seeping through his tunic, chilling the sweat-damp skin of his back.

"And what, pray tell, is so amusing?"

Aric started, his heart racing as he whipped his head around to find the source. Sylthris the Gravewhisper. She was here, in the dungeons, outside his cell, separated from him only by the thick, iron bars. She was reclining against the wall with casual grace, a half-eaten pomegranate in her hand. Juice ran down her arm and chin, the deep red a stark contrast against her silver hair and pale skin in the dim.

"I, uh." Aric's mouth felt impossibly dry. "I didn't hear you come in."

Sylthris arched one silver eyebrow, and the corner of her mouth quirked up with a predator's smile. "Clearly."

She pushed herself away from the wall with a sinuous grace, and Aric was abruptly reminded of Malekith's warning of just how dangerous this woman was. The spymaster of the demon realm, her network of informants and assassins stretched far and wide. Malekith's warning echoed starkly in his mind, though she had been his friend, once, and Malekith had stopped short of calling her an enemy.

Perhaps the in-between was worse than the foe you know.

"Are you here to interrogate me, too?" Aric asked, his voice a weak, strained rasp. "Or is this just a social call?"

Sylthris's smile widened, baring her sharpened teeth. "Oh, I think we can manage a little of both."

"Forgive me if I'm not terribly eager to chat with someone who convinced the Sovereign to throw me in here."

"Indeed. You'e been quite the busy bee—isn't that what your people say? Freeing prisoners, subtly coercing the demon prince to alter his strategies to try to stave off bloodshed . . . So Vizra insists."

"And so you seem to think, too," Aric said.

Sylthris regarded him with a mixture of curiosity and amusement, her lavender-midnight blue eyes swirling with hidden depths. "I merely report on what I am told. The truth is for the Sovereign to decide."

"Then I don't know what you could possibly want from me."

She tossed her hair over one shoulder. "Because I hear other interesting things, too. In fact, I hear you've been quite helpful, Aric Solarian. Not only did you provide the key to dismantling the wards in Drindal and Brenville, but you were also deciphering schematics for a new weapon from the Silver Tower." Her gaze sharpened, probing for any reaction. "How . . . cooperative of you."

"I want a swift end to the war," Aric said, his voice steadier now, even as his heart pounded in his ears. "I've never claimed otherwise."

Sylthris's smile turned wistful, a dark shadow passing over her features. "I know what you believe. Whether it is the truth remains to be seen."

She circled around the cell, her movements sinuous and feline. Aric tried to follow her with his eyes, but the hammering in his head made the room tilt and sway. He forced himself to sit up straight, to summon up the last shreds of his magic, but found only emptiness where the golden fire usually danced at his fingertips. The void mocked him, a cold, aching space in his chest that matched the one in his heart.

"Let's just get this over with." Aric's shoulders slumped, the tension seeping out of him. "I know you have questions. Ask them."

Sylthris's smile faded, and she regarded him with an appraising look. "You don't seem particularly concerned about your current predicament."

"I've been in worse." Aric kept his tone light, casual. "I have a feeling you're not going to kill me, at least not right away. So why not make the best of it?"

Her eyes narrowed, and Aric wondered if he had pushed too far. But to his surprise, she laughed, the sound rich and melodic, like water trickling over stones.

"You have a point." She crouched down in front of the cell, resting her chin on her interlaced fingers. "But I'm afraid there is one more matter I need to discuss with you."

Aric's stomach dropped, but he forced himself to look back. "And what might that be?"

"The weapon you helped interpret the schematics on. How close is it to completion?"

Aric's mind raced. He couldn't lie to her, not outright. But he also couldn't let her know the truth. He had to buy himself some time, find a way to turn the tables. And that meant he needed to know what she knew.

"I . . . I can understand the schematics," he said carefully. "But I'm not certain how close the weapon is to completion. There are still many variables."

Sylthris's eyes glittered, and for a moment, Aric thought she might pounce on him. But then the tension drained from her, and she straightened, pacing back and forth in front of the cell.

Sylthris hummed thoughtfully, taking another bite of the pomegranate. The juice stained her lips a deep crimson as she spoke. "Interesting. And tell me, Aric, what do you think of this weapon? Of its potential impact on the war?" Her tone was conversational, but her eyes were sharp, missing nothing.

Aric felt like he was walking a tightrope, each word potentially sealing his fate.

"Honestly?" Aric asked. "I think it's a dangerous escalation. This weapon . . . it has the potential to cause unprecedented destruction. On both sides. It has already shown its potential to do so, and I fear it will only get worse from here. I've always believed that understanding our enemies is key to ending this war. But this . . . this could annihilate everything. Demon and human alike."

Sylthris's stare was unwavering. "And what do you think should be done with it, then?"

Aric tried to think past the pain in his skull. He needed to convince her that the weapon was too dangerous to use, that it would only bring more suffering to both sides of the conflict. "It should be destroyed. The research halted. No good can come of pursuing this path."

Sylthris considered his words, a small frown creasing her forehead.

"If only it were that simple," she said at last. She looked back at Aric, her expression serious. "What if I were to tell you that there might be a way to prevent such destruction? To find a different path?"

Aric's heart skipped a beat, and he studied her carefully, trying to determine if she was sincere. She was an enigma, her true loyalties and motivations a mystery even to those who knew her best. But there was something in her eyes, a flicker of . . . something. Was it respect? Understanding?

"I might say that such a thing is too good to be true," Aric said carefully.

Sylthris's lips curved into a smile, and she leaned closer to the bars of the cell, her voice dropping to a low, conspiratorial whisper.

"Good. Then you're cleverer than you look."

Aric lifted one eyebrow.

"But . . . indulge me." She gestured with the pomegranate, a single seed scattering across the stone floor into his cell. "If such a thing were true indeed."

"If such an opportunity existed," Aric said slowly, "I would do everything in my power to seize it. For the sake of both our realms."

Sylthris's eyes glinted with amusement. "A noble sentiment. But why should I believe you would follow through?"

It was a fair question, and Aric knew he had to choose his next words carefully. "I've seen enough death and destruction to last several lifetimes," Aric said. "If there's a chance for something different . . . I'd take it."

Sylthris studied him for a long moment, her expression unreadable. Then, unexpectedly, she smiled—a small, enigmatic quirk of her lips.

"How very interesting," she murmured. She stood in one fluid motion, tossing the pomegranate remains aside. "Rest well, Aric Solarian. I suspect you'll need your strength in the days to come."

With that cryptic statement, she glided away, leaving Aric alone with his thoughts and a glimmer of hope he hardly dared to nurture.

Exhausted by the intensity of the exchange with Vizra and the constant strain of his captivity, Aric drifted into fitful sleep. But no sooner had he closed his eyes than he found himself in a shadowy realm, formless and shifting.

"Aric."

The voice echoed all around him, reverberating through the darkness. His name on those lips sounded like a caress, like a promise. He searched the shifting shadows, his heart pounding, until he saw a figure emerging from the darkness—a figure he knew all too well.

Aric's voice sounded small and insignificant in the vast darkness, but the figure turned towards him, his eyes twin points of light in the void. He began to move towards Aric, each step sending ripples through the inky blackness, like the surface of a lake.

"Aric, my star in the darkness. Come to me."

The figure's voice was like a siren's song, coaxing Aric forward. He stumbled through the shifting darkness, the cold seeping into his bones, but with each step towards Malekith, a warmth blossomed in his chest.

Only a few feet separated them now, but the space between them stretched on impossibly. Aric reached out a hand, his fingers trembling, and after an eternity that might have lasted only the span of a heartbeat, his fingers brushed against the cool silk of Malekith's robes.

"Aric." Malekith's fingers closed around Aric's hand, and the darkness around them shattered like glass, scattering into a million shards of light. They stood together in a blinding, golden expanse, the air thick with the scent of burning ozone. Malekith's eyes were twin points of molten gold, and his skin glowed with an otherworldly light.

"You need to listen to me." Malekith's voice was urgent, a distant rumble like a storm on the horizon. "I'm doing everything I can to free you, but I must be careful. The Sovereign's eyes are everywhere."

Aric's voice was a whisper, the words dissolving like ash on his tongue as he tried to speak.

"Shh." Malekith's thumb brushed over Aric's knuckles, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. "I know you're in pain, but you must hold on. Trust in me, and we will find a way through this."

Aric's vision was blurring, the golden landscape fading in and out of focus. I do trust you . He tried to speak it, even though the words would not come. The tears were hot on his cheeks, his face a mask of fire and pain. But I don't know how much longer I can hold on.

Malekith's expression softened, and he cradled Aric's face in his free hand. The touch of his skin was searing, like the kiss of a branding iron, but Aric leaned into it, savoring the pain.

"You are stronger than you know. My beacon of hope." Malekith's voice was a prayer, a benediction. "I will find a way to you. I swear it on my very soul."

The darkness was closing in around them, the shards of light fading to embers. Aric's hand was slipping from Malekith's, his body dissolving like sand in the wind.

"Malekith, please?—"

"Trust in me."

Aric whispered the words, though he knew he wasn't making a sound.

I trust you.

He shoved the words forward, toward the shadowy figure that he knew was crouching before him, though he could not see his face. He pushed them with all his might, willing them to reach their target.

I trust you.

The words left him, and he felt himself scattering, the dream fading away. But the figure's hand was still on his face, and Aric clung to that touch, the heat of it searing his skin.

"Trust in me," the figure echoed, his voice still that urgent rumble. And then the dream shattered, and Aric was alone in the darkness.

Rough hands yanked Aric from the darkness, shattering the lingering echoes of the dream. He gasped, his heart hammering in his chest as he was hauled to his feet. The world swam before his eyes, the cold stone of the cell floor giving way to the heat of the demon guards who towered over him.

"Stop, I beg you, please, you must listen?—"

A roar filled his ears, and it took him a moment to realize it was his own voice, raw and desperate. His arms flailed as he tried to break free, but the guards' grip was like iron. Cold voidfire wrapped around him, and he screamed as it ate into his skin, burned and twisted?—

And then it was gone, a fleeting memory, leaving behind only the scent of charred flesh and the guards looking more than a little unsettled. But they didn't release their hold on him, and for that, Aric was almost grateful.

The guards flanked him as they dragged him from the cells, the fortress looming around them. He tried to take in every detail, every twist and turn of the mazelike corridors, but he was disoriented, the world tilting and spinning.

"Where are you taking me?" he managed to croak.

No response.

The guards' faces were masks, revealing nothing of their thoughts. Aric's heart sank. Had his conversation with Sylthris been nothing but a cruel taunt, a game to break his spirit?

No. He couldn't afford to give in to despair. He had to believe that there was a chance, however slim, that Sylthris was telling the truth, that there was a way out of this.

He squared his shoulders, and let the guards lead him through the darkness.