Chapter 4

" I 'm not going in there."

When he suggested they take a trip to the Borderlands, she hadn't expected for it to be here .

Ilias stood, hands in tight fists, at the entrance to the prison in the Borderlands. There were warriors stationed there as guards, Credulan warriors at that. He wasn't particularly fond of leaving her there all by herself, but Kaya seemed to have a tendency of letting her fears control her more often than not. And asking her to do anything once she'd made up her mind proved just as useful as commanding a mountain to do a cartwheel.

If he were being quite honest with himself, he had no idea how this had come to fruition. But all he could think of, all he could hear, were the words she'd said to him on top of that mountain. All he could feel was the painfully beautiful pressure of her kiss, the apologies that burned at the back of his throat.

"Have it your way, then." His voice came out strained—eyes like daggers as he met the stares of the warriors mere yards away. He forced a pressed sigh, stepping through the warded entrance.

Kaya took one glance at the encampment behind her, the warriors all staring at her with wide eyes. Because, of course, she was the princess. There was no mistaking her for anyone else—not with the striking resemblance she had to her mother.

She gave them a meek wave and flashed an awkward smile before she darted through the entrance. She saw him through the opalescent haze, descending into the poorly lit and sloped corridor. Just before he began taking multiple confusing paths that she never would have been able to figure out on her own, Kaya was able to fall into stride beside him.

It was eerily silent inside the prison and although the creatures confined to their cells seemed docile enough, their menacing presence was enough to have her muscles tighten and her teeth clench. Prisoners peered out of their enclosures, a mixture of orc and fae alike—as well as some others, but they mostly lurked in the darkest corners of their cells. Her stomach tightened with each whistle and cat-call and she moved closer to Ilias, practically using him as a shield as they continued. The corridor was made of stone—high ceilings hung with iron chandeliers, the firelight emitting from them casting an orange glow onto the obsidian walls. It reeked of rotten food and rotten souls, the dampness making the stench that much more suffocating.

"Where are we going?" She whispered her words, but they still echoed, bouncing off the arched walls. She winced, turning to glance at a red-skinned male with black eyes that was making an obscene gesture in her direction. And despite her anger, her shadows were completely silent.

Iron.

She could feel the dull ache of the metal, like a humming throb in her hands and feet—in her chest. It was as if she'd suddenly fallen ill, her body dragging and weakening the deeper they went.

It was eerily silent by the time they reached the end of the darkest corridor in the prison. This cell, unlike the others, had no bed. No toilet. And the male trapped within was more emaciated than the rest.

Her stomach plummeted, her heart rate increased significantly and she could feel the Dark Bringer straining against the powerful wards in a desperate attempt at escape—curling against the force of the iron surrounding her and groaning in agony. They wanted out. They wanted to seek justice again and again and again until there was nothing left of him, but thin ribbons of skin.

The last time she saw him, her shadows had nearly ripped his entire face off. What was left of it was just as terrifying as the handsome one he had paraded around with before. Except…

Looking at him, in his state of disfigurement, was more pleasing. It fed the darkness inside of her and it licked its lips with a satisfied smack. Because, seeing her assailant now, the male she once thought she loved and feared, his image reflected who he was on the inside.

Small.

Ugly.

Weak .

If anything, she had not ruined a face at all, but merely peeled back a mask to reveal the monster lurking underneath.

He looked at her with his remaining eye, its twinkle dulled by time spent in this dim and dark cavern. Something shifted when he saw her, his body jostling against the iron chains shackled to his wrists and ankles. He made a dry noise, what was left of his mouth pulling back into a wide grin.

"Kaya." He whispered, his voice still laced with the same sickening, greasy pride.

"This was a mistake." Kaya snapped. She prepared to turn and run, but Ilias reached and grabbed her hand. "What are we doing here, Ilias?"

He just smirked, placing something cold and metallic into the palm of her hand. "He's all yours." Ilias shrugged.

She stared at him for a moment before the reality set in, a scoff escaping her as she folded her arms across her chest. "This place is filled with iron, I can't do anything in here."

"Who said you need them to be able to do anything to him? He's chained— defenseless . You can do whatever you want."

Kaya opened her mouth to respond, but was interrupted by a hoarse laugh. "But she won't do anything. Will you, Kaya?" The male's voice was taunting—menacing. And it was enough to make her entire body go rigid.

Ilias tugged her hand, pulling her close enough so that she was enveloped in his scent, in his warmth, his eyes boring into her own. "Don't listen to him. Listen to me." In the hand that did not hold the key, Ilias slipped her his knife. "I want you to do to him whatever you feel you need to do in order to heal , Kaya. Do anything."

"And if I don't want to do anything—what then?" She rasped. Tears began forming in her eyes, her hand trembling around the hilt of the knife. Her lungs compressed, burning. She wasn't afraid of him. Not anymore. She was afraid of her rage—that she would not be able to stop once she started.

Ilias closed his hand around hers, stilling her tremors. "Do you want me to do it, then? Just say the words, princess, and I'll carve his fucking heart out for you. Take his fingers off one by one and string them on a necklace for you."

Kaya swallowed. "I have been wanting a new necklace." It was a failed attempt at using humor to calm herself, but her hands still shook. She wasn't alright.

"Isn't this precious," the former captain groaned. "She must have a thing for men in uniform. What do you think, Dothrae?"

A muscle twitched in Ilias's jaw, his teeth grinding as he took the knife back into his hand. Kaya handed him the key to the cell and backed herself into the shadows.

"How long have the two of you been screwing?" The male continued. "Wouldn't you agree that she looks best on her knees?" Ilias chuckled dryly as he opened the cell door and stepped inside.Roman Prim stared up at him, watching him approach. "A lot we could bond over, you and I. I could give you some pointers on what makes her scream the most—what makes her shake ."

"I don't think we will be bonding over much, Prim." Ilias knelt before the prisoner, his own smile just as hateful. He lifted the dagger into the candlelight, holding it mere inches away from Prim's face. "You remember this?" He asked. "You gifted this to me when I was accepted into the Silver Guard. All of us graduates got one. But this one—this one is the most special of them all. Do you know why?"

He was met with silence. To which, Ilias's mouth kicked up at one side, forming a smirk. "This one is special because it is going to be the one I kill you with. But, for now, I'm going to use it to cut out your tongue." He huffed, cocking his head to the side. "It's serrated, too. So it won't exactly be a swift job."

"And then? Are you going to kill me, Captain?" Prim laughed. "Put an end to all my misery? "

Ilias shook his head. "Not today." He reached forward with unnatural speed, snatching Prim's tongue from its rotting cavern before he brought his blade down upon it. He was not quick or precise. It was a sloppy and painful job that had Prim's screams echoing off the walls of the prison. From her shadowed corner, Kaya watched with a sort of calmness that should not exist. Her breathing started to even out, her heart began to slow to its normal rhythm, and her tremors began to ebb away as she watched Ilias saw that evil muscle from Roman Prim's mouth.

But Ilias didn't stop. He merely tossed the tongue to the dirt and then began working again. Not at Prim's fingers, but at his wrist.

He started by snapping the bone and then he sawed. And sawed. And sawed. Until so much time passed that Kaya needed to lower herself to the cold, stone floor.

And when he was done, Ilias moved the severed hand into an obscene gesture, bending all fingers down, save for the one in the middle. And then he tossed it to the ground at Prim's buckled knees. He turned to her, then, and sighed. With a single exhale, all of the anger and malice he'd been carrying towards Roman Prim dissipated. He would have preferred seeing Kaya get her justice, but he had no qualms with having to do it himself. So long as the female, that now stared at him with the most peculiar look in her eyes, no longer had to fear that bastard harming her again.

His blade and hands wet with the dark blood of her worst nightmare, he walked towards her and she didn't fear him. She didn't recoil or look away. Kaya just looked at him so intently. As if she were finally seeing him for who he was.

"I need to find a place to wash off." He stated, lifting his hands to inspect them. "Let's go."

Kaya didn't hesitate to lift herself off the floor and she followed him back out of the prison, the hollowness in her chest filling up just slightly.

━?○?━?○?━

Ilias knew some of the Drikieran people that took up camp a few miles from the prison in the Borderlands and they welcomed them with open arms— quickly ushering him to a washing area while the others flocked to Kaya, spewing praises and offering gratitude to her, for what her father was doing for them. For Driikona.

He watched Kaya from the crack of the washing tent. She stood there awkwardly, forcing a smile onto her face as she bowed her head to each new greeter, until she caught his gaze. Ilias averted his eyes quickly, the small smile on his face diminishing, turning to a hard line as he walked away.

The action sent an odd pang of discomfort through her chest. Ilias was a fickle creature, she learned. His fleeting emotions were hard to keep track of. It was as if he were constantly at war with himself, fighting a battle against nature and what he presumed to be right. If she were being honest with herself, she would have to admit that she was not much different. The war in herself was loud, filled with violent and bloodthirsty spirits that called for retribution—but Kaya was not bloodthirsty. And her form of revenge, her justice, was silent.

Kaya allowed herself to be dragged to the center of the encampment, where a fire blazed high into the indigo sky.

A female with a tangled mess of red hair approached her. Kaya tried not to notice how one side of her face was leathered and pink with scars, her eyelid drooping with the rough, tightened skin. She sat beside her on the log that doubled as a bench, her scarred hands folding in her lap.

"I hear them, too." The female whispered. "Your shadows."

Kaya stilled, licking her lips as she tried to breathe through the sinking of her stomach. "What?"

"They are very loud. They want me to tell you the truth—your truth."

She didn't know if she wanted to know the truth. There was something so ominous in this scarred female's voice that made it feel as if an icy river ran through her veins in place of warm blood. Kaya swallowed deeply, but did not break the female's stare—nor did she pull away when she reached her scarred hands forward. She placed them upon Kaya's stomach.

"You are not the one that will save Driikona. It is not your shadows Cadaith has chosen, but the shadows you will create. Born from you and your machna ii'loam. "

Kaya couldn't move. Her stomach plummeted at the phrase, her shadows rustling—quivering to life at the base of her spine. "Can you tell me what that means? Machna ii'loam … what is that?"

The female smiled, the burns on her cheek tugging tightly at the corner of her mouth. "There are many names it goes by—a Credence, a Corebound, a machna ii'loam. But there is one name for it that is shared throughout the ether." She paused, moving her hand away from Kaya's stomach. "A mate ."

Kaya's brow furrowed, her heart feeling as if were lodged in her throat. She immediately turned, her eyes landing on the washing tent just as Ilias emerged. His tunic was slung over his arm, his tanned and chiseled torso bared to the world as he walked towards her. Although her mouth was incredibly dry, she managed to swallow as she rose to her feet.

The scarred female tugged at her arm and Kaya turned, only to find the old book she'd been searching for placed upon the old log—the female, and any trace of her, was gone. She picked it up and scanned the crowd in search of her, but could find nothing.

Kaya felt the heat from Ilias's body as he came to a stop next to her. Though her stomach was in knots, she shoved any thoughts in regard to the feeling as far away as possible as she lifted the book.

"Found it." She sighed, forcing a proud smile onto her face, forcing away the haunting feeling that she was still being watched. "Now we can go back to G'Illach."

His curiosity was evident in his pinched brow as he looked at what she cradled to her chest. He extended his hand, eyes meeting hers as she handed the book to him. He flipped it front to back, shaking his head slightly. "Where did you find it?"

There was no easy way to answer his question—no way to explain it to him without her sounding as if she'd lost her mind. "I guess the Santigha finally deemed me worthy enough to return it."

"The Santigha? You believe that story?"

She narrowed her eyes at the playful smirk he now bore, letting out a frustrated sigh. "I saw them. On our way to G'Illach." She lifted her chin slightly. "Every story, even faerie-tales, have truth to them. But," She sighed, "What is important is that we have achieved what I initially set out to do, so now we can leave."

For the life of him, he couldn't suppress the chuckle that sounded from his throat as he watched Kaya turned back towards the entrance of the camp. He caught her arm, clicking his tongue when she hissed at him. "I don't think so. These people took us in as weary travelers. We owe them a gift. And revelry."

Kaya's brow furrowed, nose scrunching up. "Revelry? Why?"

"It's still Caddat. These people deserve a feast and we will be the ones to provide it."

"And how do you expect we do that?" She hummed, quirking her brow as Ilias took a seat on the log. He leaned down to lace up his boot, his damp brown waves falling into his eyes as he looked at her.

He should not have looked as beautiful as he did. The orange glow of the fire complimented his bronze skin, highlight each muscle that was contoured by shadow.

Kaya considered herself to be particularly modest. She never fawned over the other males she came in contact with and while she could recognize a handsome face, she did not drool over them. She certainly never enjoyed staring at them this much, nor did she ever have the strong desire to feel someone. The urge to touch him was overwhelming—a type of lust that was just as uncontrollable as—

Machna ii'loam .

"Did you hear a single word I said?" Ilias was on his feet, snapping his fingers in her face to draw her from her daze. He snatched up spears from a pile nearest them, examining the blades.

Kaya's cheeks bloomed with a shameful pink heat. "I heard you." She groaned. "You're forcing me to go out in the forest with you and all the other males to hunt down animals and forage."

"Forcing you? You realize that you do sound incredibly—"

"Spoiled?" She Interjected. "Yes, I am aware. But I have been walking all day. Hunting a meal was not on my itinerary for the night. In fact, I don't think that I will be killing anything . No offense to anyone here, but I just don't believe I have it in me to take an animal's life. "

"But you'll eat them?" He cocked his head to the side, a smirk forming at his lips that entailed he was holding in another laugh.

Kaya let out a moan of frustration and stalked back towards the border of the camp. "I wouldn't expect you to understand. My father always said that I should only kill something if it meant survival. And I have bread and jam. Therefore, I do not need to kill anything."

"I have bread and jam, too."

Kaya narrowed her eyes at him. "No. You have nothing. Because I was the only one between the two of us that packed food."

They stepped into the forest, their surroundings growing so incredibly dark that it was hard for Kaya to see. But Ilias was more than alert. They hissed and snapped at each other quietly as Ilias tried and, to her dismay, succeeded in shoving a spear into her hand.

"I don't know how to use one of these." She whispered, earning a hateful glare and a quieted, snarled demand for her to stop talking.

Ilias toed his way through the forest, his steps calculated and precise. They approached a stream, both of them pausing to look back and see that the rest of the hunting party already gathered and was beginning to disperse themselves amongst the glimmering emerald greenery.

"That's what I'm here for, remember?" Ilias whispered. "To teach you things."

Those words, the way they sounded in that silken timbre of his voice, and the very few inches of space that separated them was enough to have her cheeks turning red. Kaya moved to take a step back, the fluttering in her chest a driving force, but she gasped at the rolling surface under her heel. Just before she could land in the moonlit rush of the stream, a thick hand wrapped around the front of her shirt and jerked her to a stop. Ilias pulled her upright, plopping her back on solid ground with a grunt, eyes narrowed. Kaya opened her mouth to thank him, but was interrupted by a basket being thrust into her chest.

"Do you know how to put things in a basket, princess?"

A smile spread across her face, her eyes narrowed with mischief. As if it were her plan all along—to cause such commotion that he relented .

"I'm very skilled at that." She chirped, throwing her damp hair over her shoulder. "I'll see you back at camp."

Ilias gave a curt nod and Kaya turned, dashing through the forest as quickly and silently as she could.

She wasn't lying when she said she didn't want to kill anything, not with the image of the moorbounders and that Credulan still ingrained in her memory. But she did lie when she said she didn't know how to use a spear. She used to go hunting with her father quite often. Even then, her father would return home with a bloodied spear and enough game to last them weeks. Her spear was always just as clean as it was when he handed it her.

That was her weakness, she supposed. Not being able to kill anything—even if it meant food in the bellies of people who suffered a loss far greater than she could ever imagine.

You should listen to us more. Kaya rolled her eyes, shushing the shadows as she began plucking dark purple mulberries from their tree.

She sighed, glancing down at her fingers to find them stained dark red and shuddered in way that wasn't tinged with distaste, but with satisfaction—with desire and want—when she remembered how Ilias looked covered in the blood of her greatest villain. And although she knew it was an attempt at him trying to gain her trust, she felt like it was more. A part of her wanted it to mean more.

So badly, in fact, that the ache she'd felt earlier that day had returned. It was deep in her chest, twisting and carving through layers of her Core she hadn't even realized existed.

Machna ii'loam. The words repeated in her mind on an endless cycle.

By the time she was able to regain her thoughts, the basket was entirely full. She sighed down at its contents and trudged back towards the camp, her eyes fixed upon each step she took until a group of males and females surrounded her, taking the basket from her. Kaya was prepared to sit on one of the logs surrounding the fire, but she was suddenly being whisked away by females dressed in gauzy, shimmering garments—their arms painted in streaks of black and gold. She relented to their tugging, unsure of what they were saying as they led her towards one of the larger tents in the camp.