Page 17 of The Edge of Darkness

Maeson found what she was searching for—a branch of lavender—and waved it in front of me, practically shoving it up my nose in the process. The woody, floral scent snapped me back into focus, and my breathing leveled out.

“It’s Niall,” I said as soon as I could catch my breath. “He’s here. He’s close.”

Remic looked around. “There are many others here now. I think we’ve entered the prison section.”

Sure enough, instead of a hall full of open alcoves with lit candles, this section held cells with barred, iron doors. Torches braced by rusted sconces lit the walls, and the smell of unwashed bodies and weeks-old feces wafted in our direction.

“I’m sensing four others in this hallway, and more beyond it,” Remic said, weighing our options. “Most are too weak to be aware of our presence.”

Maeson leaned around us to see. “You can sense all that from here?”

Remic nodded, a section of his silver-white hair slipping forward over his shoulder. “Can you stand?” he asked me.

I took a deep breath and pushed past the pain in my head, nodding. Whatever Niall was enduring, it was intense. “Something’s happening to him, Remic. We have to hurry.”

Remic lifted me to my feet. “Quietly, then,” he said, taking my hand and leading the way.

I pushed some of my power into my mental shield, trying to block out the pain that was radiating through it. It quelled the brunt of it enough for me to focus.

As we passed by the first door on our right, I peered inside. It was empty. But the one across from it held what looked to be an older male who was curled up in the corner next to a filthy bucket overflowing with something foul. I couldn’t tell if he was dead, but he didn’t move. The next door revealed a younger male, completely naked and slumped over in the center of the cell. He lifted his head and followed us with his eyes, but didn’t say a word as we passed. To our right, another male—older, but not wasted away like the first. He sat trembling in the corner, mumbling something to himself.

Then, to our left, someone shuffled forward abruptly. I turned just as a prisoner met her cell door with a clang of the irons at her wrists, her knuckles whitening as she grasped the bars.

She was pale, frail-looking, seeming as if she might wither away and crumble into dust with the slightest touch. But the fire that burned in her glazed-over eyes told me she was nowhere near death.

Her crippled hand reached out between the bars, and a bony finger pinned me on the spot. “You,” she rasped.

The stench that came from her mouth made us all step even further away. Remic held me at an arms-length behind him, his glamour falling, wings splaying wide in defense. The markings around his eyes lit like embers, casting a red glow onto the bars that separated us from the prisoner.

Surprisingly, she didn’t seem fazed by his transformation. “We have been waiting for you,” she croaked, leaning around him to see me.

Maeson grabbed onto my arm protectively. “What do you mean?”

The old crone’s eyes didn’t leave mine. “The one who was promised,” she said, nodding. “Yes, the one who brings light. The one that will save us all.” She smiled, baring a mouth of missing teeth.

Remic stepped forward. “What do you know of this?”

The crone had the common sense to back away from the bars at his approach. She pulled her gaze up to his. “Blessed by the gods and the fates, she is. The realm will shake at her splendor. She will usher in The Great Change.” She giggled slightly. The gritty sound of it made me uneasy.

“Rise on the hill. Rise on the hill,” she whispered repeatedly as her eyes found mine again. “Bright as a star you shall be when you rise on the hill.”

Maeson squeezed my arm. “We should go. She’s going to draw too much attention.”

We turned to leave, when the prisoner suddenly gasped behind us, seeming to suck all the air out of the corridor.

“And terrible as the darkest storm!” she squawked.

I halted.

“Auren—” Remic called, turning back for me.

I held up my hand at him.

“What did you just say?” I asked the prisoner, stepping toward her.

Her eyes bulged as she clung to the bars with both her knobby hands and pressed her face between them. “You will bring forth the darkness.” Her voice shook. “One will be banished, and another will rise.” Her lips quivered as she shook her head against the bars. “Another will rise,” she repeated.

She must have been in a state of derangement, because she had the prophecy wrong.