AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Cyro referred to it as a relic.”
Huh. Interesting.
Bronze’s voice gentled. “When did you see it?” Careful. He had to be very careful here, but shit, he wasn’t skilled with the whole patiently diplomatic routine.
“The better part of a century ago, we were located in a different underground location from where Drea and Chrome found me. One time, when Cyro visited my cell, he didn’t come to me right away but instead stopped to converse with an apex about something. It was unusual for him to hold such a conversation in front of me, though perhaps he thought I was not capable of listening. Most of the time, he was right. That time, however, I had a brief respite of a more lucid moment. I heard every whispered word.”
Bronze let the seraph’s mind wander where it needed to go, though every instinct burned with fury at the mention of Rhode’s time there, of what the angel must have endured, especially with an apex charmer—the highest class of charmer and the most ruthlessly powerful—as a jailer. More than once, Bronze had thought it was a blessing from the prime mages that Rhode didn’t and wouldn’t remember his time there. Now, after witnessing firsthand the angel’s glassy eyes and haunted visage whenever the past came upon him, he wasn’t so sure.
Rhode spoke idly, seemingly unfazed by the memories that tumbled out, as if used to the dull blankness. “The relic holds dormant celestial magic.”
Bronze stiffened. “How is that possible? What would Cyro want with it, and why the hell would a female like her be found wearing it?”
“Cyro was convinced it was the key to entering the Empyrean somehow. He never mentioned specifics, but he believed it contained a core component capable of opening up the gates again, so that he might finally have the means to enter and lay siege to Heaven’s highest realm.”
The room, small as it was, got about a thousand times smaller under the weight of Rhode’s revelation. “What are you saying? That this horn thing has magic that can get us home?”
Home. By the mages, how long had that word sat like a lead weight on his chest making each breath that much harder to punch out? Yes, it had been right, what he and his brothers had done. Sealing off the gates of Heaven so the Empyrean and all the souls in it would be forever free from Cyro’s tyranny and invasion, even if it meant Bronze and the sentinels might never hope to see the realm’s light again.
For Bronze, however, it wasn’t just about the homecoming that had made his eons in the mortal realm particularly painful. It wasn’t just the wasted years or the endless battles or the daily depletion of his celestial powers.
It was about who he’d left behind and the sacred vow he’d sworn to uphold that had been forever lost to him.
Polina.
“Can we get back?” Bronze asked through a tight throat. “Can that thing get us back?”
Rhode blinked away the fog that had settled over his expression, and familiar clarity once again returned to his features. “I don’t know, but I do know that Cyro has a relic identical to what your lycan female was wearing around her neck.”
Bronze’s enthusiasm stalled out at that. There was a second relic? “How do you know it’s not the same one?”
Rhode shook his head. “I thought it was the same one at first, but after I examined it more closely, I noticed a crack at the base of this one. I removed the fastener to get a better look, and I was correct. The one Cyro had was pristine. I remember how strong the glare of its pure opalescence was compared to the dinginess of the grotto and how I winced when I looked at it. The relic was pristine but also, somehow, incomplete. The base of it was shorn and jagged, while the rest of its curvature was unblemished. Cyro had made a point of saying so. This one, however,” he said, pointing to the fang-like bit of stone that sat so unassumingly on the counter, “is flawed, though only slightly, and when you remove its fastener, the base is cut in a similar way as to fit together with what I’ve seen before. I believe it is the other half of what Cyro has.”
“The other half . . .” Bronze trailed off, giving his thoughts free rein to thoroughly freak the fuck out.
The Empyrean. Dormant magic.
Was he really facing down an item that could return them all to their home? And more to the point, what the hell was a half-dead lycan female doing with the damn thing wrapped around her neck?
“Why would—” Insistent alarms sounded out from the room across the hall. He’d heard them before. They were the sounds of steady rhythmic vital signs kicking into healthier, higher gears when someone returned to the land of the living. But for the first time, those sounds took on a different cadence. One of desperate questions, worried outcomes, and . . . hope.
Rhode got to his feet and opened the door. “Let us see what she can answer.”
Chapter 7
The clock on the wall had just crept past three thirty, and Clara hoped her internal timepiece wasn’t lying to her, though she couldn’t blame it if it was. Good Lord, her head hurt. If every hunger headache she’d ever experienced had all been rolled into a cumulative ball and squatted on her frontal lobe, it might come close to the pain she was feeling now.
Thank goodness the lights were dim. The even dullness of the glow was a bit unnerving, however. She knew humans had other means of illuminating their buildings than the fire lamps she was used to, but did the light have to be so flat and uniform? Never in a million years did she think she’d miss the sway and temperament of a simple flame.
Please still be night. Please still be night.
If it was night, that meant her chances of returning before her father noticed her absence were significantly slimmer. Oh, who was she kidding? The only reason he would notice her missing was if one of the wealthy males vying for her hand—and her father’s power—inquired after her whereabouts and she was nowhere to be found. Her father had only ever expressed as much interest in her well-being insofar as her ability to breed and how her unique pedigree would benefit him in gaining more players on his political chess board.
Pedigree. If she had to hear that word one more time, she was liable to shave the hair off her head and hang herself with the length of it. It was a stark reminder of just how dire her desperation had been of late and what had driven her into the woods in the first place.
Driven her to the human lands. To that male . . .
Wondering whether he’d return to her, Clara inched herself higher against the pillow and frowned. What on earth was she wearing? A pale blue dotted gown of some sort covered her from shoulders to shins. When she lifted the blanket on top of her to inspect further, she gasped.
