20. Dan’thiel

twenty

Dan'thiel

Correspondence lay discarded across the old wooden table that has become my desk. Earmarked books are stacked across the floor while others lay open with long, cracked spines. This once simple room has grown into chaos over the last months as the Vessel and Shards collide. My simple room in this Otherworld castle, a place that's neither here nor there, looks more like a war room these days.

"This doesn't just affect me anymore, Rynlin. We must tell the other Guardians what Yurghen is planning before it's too late."

My mentor watches the flames in the hearth over my shoulder, staring at the same point in spacetime as me. A remote tower in Illuemera.

"Prince Dan'thiel, this is none of our concern. I've told you again and again, we do not meddle in the affairs of the real world. It is frowned upon to even watch."

The same warning, again and again. My hands pull at my cheeks, trying to give myself a moment to gather my patience.

"And what if he succeeds?"

The question is poised like a knife, quiet and sharp.

Yurghen could single-handedly destroy the future of all the mortal races.

The lanky being of the Otherworld blows out a puff of hot air. "Then so be it. The other Guardians will give you the same answer, Prince. I'm sorry."

How can he say that? How can they not care? I round on him, trying not to let the hurt show on my face.

"You'd let Yurghen rip open the Great River of Souls? You'd let all those souls waiting for rebirth slip through the cracks and be devoured by the Underworld. If there are no mortals left, then what will the Otherworld and your Guardians even exist for? You're supposed to guard the space between realms, but what will you guard when all is lost because of your inaction?"

He gives me a suffering look that I'm far too used to.

"Prince, there are far more creatures in this universe than those in Illuemera."

I want to roar out my frustrations. Bang my fists against the wall. Rail at every Guardian until they listen to me. Instead, I leash myself, waiting for Rynlin to say more.

He lets out a long sigh as he slumps down into the chair next to me. A glimpse of the male I've come to call a friend eeks through the cracks of The Guardian fa?ade.

"Rynlin," I hate the way my voice quivers when I say his name. "Rynlin, please. Just hear my words."

He drums his fingertips on the edge of his armrest in a methodical rhythm as I wait.

"How can you even know that he speaks the truth to those followers of his? What reason would he have to end all life?"

I keep myself from smiling at the tiny victory. He's willing to hear me out. That's the first step.

"I've been watching him for through small glimpses into his mind, you know this. After the Vessel…"

"Cooked him alive, yes. Continue."

I clear my throat, trying not to look guilty for that. It wasn't the Vessel who did it. Not completely, at least. Somehow, in that moment, I could channel through her. But I could never tell Rynlin that. He'd banish me himself for that betrayal of trust. The betrayal of natural laws.

Instead, I push forward. "Well… it's like she imprinted on him with her magic. I've been getting more and more of those glimpses of him. Of his mind. I don't yet know the reason, but I assure you this is his intention."

The words taste like ash on my tongue. Rynlin raises an eyebrow in an uncharacteristically mortal expression, but he holds his tongue. I suppose immortality leads to endless patience.

"He believes he has everything he needs to rip a hole in the Great River once he returns to full strength. And he's getting stronger every day."

"Why would he risk the ire of the Gods?"

I give him an understanding nod. It just doesn't make sense. "Because he knows how to trap a soul into a body now. I think that's how he survived Mira. He tethered his own soul to his flesh, and because she didn't harm his soul, the flesh is re-knitting itself. And if he can escape death. Escape judgment, he's outsmarted the Chromatic Gods."

Rynlin shakes his head, lips pulled down in disgust. "But why? Why commit such an atrocity?"

"I don't know. What I can piece together through the occasional thought or image from his mind isn't making sense. I wouldn't say he's the sanest person."

I give him a half shrug.

"Surely he doesn't think the Gods would let that stand."

"The Chromatic Gods haven't directly interfered with our realm in millennia."

Rynlin pinches the bridge of his nose between two fingers before shaking his head like a dog shakes after a bath. "I will think on this, Prince. Thank you for bringing it to my attention. There is much to consider. Any news of the other human woman?"

I bristle at the blatant dismissal, but I know he will make good on his word. For all his aloof airs, Rynlin cares about the mortals. I just need to give him time to let him sit on this information. He'll come around. Together, we'll talk the Guardians into intervening.

"She's been taken in by a group with unsavory motives, an underground circuit of burglars and criminals. However, no harm has found her yet. They hid her from the Keepers after her entry. They've just crossed the border into Valenfall."

I suppress a grimace at the mention of my old home, where my brother Cor'than now rules as king after his coup killed all my friends and allies. Hundreds of High Fae died that night. Rynlin gives a halfhearted nod before he rises to his feet. "I have duties to attend, but please call for me if you learn more about Yurghen."

As I listen to the iron hinges squeak to a close behind my only friend, I let out a breath I didn't realize I was holding. A creeping guilt claws through my body, but he wouldn't understand. He'd stop listening. Stop being my only ally here.

No, if Rynlin knew the involvement between Malicryn and Yurghen, he'd assume everything I told him was fueled by revenge. And I can say, honestly, that would only be a happy byproduct of my true intention.

I can't let Yurghen do this.

I must find a way to stop him, with or without the Guardians. There are too many people at risk now. Not just those living, but those long gone and waiting to come again. My ancestors, my friends who fought by my side, my big sister who died too young, even my parents.

As that thought finishes, a vision slams into my mind, blocking all other sights, sounds, and senses. Suddenly, I'm standing in a dank cave system, speaking to a group of common fae and lesser faeries. Brownies, Pixies, and all manner of winged and scaled creatures attend my every word.

Beside me, an older pixie, balding with thick-rimmed glasses and a twitchy nose. I know him as Mouse, my right hand. When his gaze shifts to me, a hardness steels his face for only a moment before it passes.

Careful little mouse. You won't like me as your enemy.

The voice in my head is haunting and shrill.

And then the sight is gone, and I'm just Dan'thiel sitting alone too far away to help anyone. My head finds my palms.

I hope I can get the Guardians on my side before it's too late.