Page 19 of The Edge of Darkness

“Except for us,” Remic said. I could practically hear his jaw grinding, eager for liberation and retribution.

We were so close.

“Follow me,” I said.

Remic grabbed my arm, stilling me. “Auren, if we are seen by any guards, they cannot leave here alive. Do you understand?”

I nodded.

“Break the wards, and we will move quickly,” he said.

I rounded the corner and stepped quietly into the hallway, but the moment my foot hit the ground, the orbs whirled and sped off in the other direction, disappearing completely.

“Great,” Maeson whispered, lighting her palm again so that we could see.

I moved toward the first door, the one Remic mentioned held someone behind it. My chest remained steadily thrumming with no improvement, so I kept moving. Three more doors passed and nothing changed. Two more went by on the right, and the sensation rose, climbing significantly as I approached the final door, furthest down the hall. I practically sprinted for it.

“This one,” I whisper-yelled, pointing at the iron door. My anxiety was through the roof as I stood in front of it, picturing Niall on the other side. I prayed he was alive. Prayed he was unharmed, though I knew there was a very real possibility that I wouldn’t like what I would find on the other side.

My heart thundered behind my ribs, and my power stirred along with it. I breathed in deeply, focusing on the wards.

Remic’s hand was poised on the door handle, and Maeson kept watch over the hall while I closed my eyes.

The wards felt like heavy bars—meant to keep someone in, rather than to keep others out. And thankfully, they were connected in what felt like one massive network. Exactly what Morah was counting on. I could command the entire thing to fall, but only for a few seconds.

I hoped Morah and Roirdan had found Fallon by now and were waiting for access at his door. Surely we had given them enough time.

Without further hesitation, I breathed out and reached for the wards. When I had them in my invisible grasp, I willed them to fall.

The stone walls shuddered around us, and dust stirred free from the ceiling above as the wards fell at my command. The moment Remic felt it, he grasped the door handle and shoved, and the three of us scrambled inside before the wards slipped from my grasp and slid back into place.

My chest burst with the familiar thrumming, no longer stifled or muted by distance or magic. But the momentary win was quickly overshadowed with dread as my heart faltered at what I saw.

Across the cell, Niall sat on the floor against the stone wall, bathed in shadows, legs stretched out in front of him, arms hanging at his sides. The sound of chains clinked and clattered against stone, and as I stepped closer, I realized it was the chains at his wrists and ankles that shook.

No . . . His entire body was convulsing.

“Niall!” I rushed toward him and fell to my knees, ignoring the bite of the jagged stone that greeted me. I reached out, but gasped as my hands met dozens of nails protruding from his arms and upper chest. Coagulated blood seeped from every puncture as his body tried but failed to clot around the wounds.

My hands trembled in mid-air, not knowing where to touch him. His face was bruised and bloody, and the anguish in his expression instantly had tears streaming from my eyes. He wasn’t conscious, and it was clear that something was messing with his mind. I could feel the horror he saw within my own mind’s eye, and I knew that whatever Ramil had done or was making him see, was the most severe form of torture there was.

“Iron,” Remic growled as he met me on his knees before his High Lord and examined the damage. “He’s lucky they didn’t hit an artery.”

The metal spikes trailed up both Niall’s arms and across the dips of his collarbone. The shadowed wisps of his shroud seemed pinned in place by them. And his thighs . . . Remic snarled upon seeing the plethora of spikes that were driven into them, some on the outer edge, some on the inner.

“Niall,” I pleaded, not knowing where to place my hands other than his bloodied face. I gripped it and tried to hold it steady in my hands, cupping the back of his head to keep it from thrashing back against the wall.

Seeing him like this broke me.

He looked so helpless. A total contrast to the High Lord that I knew, the one who could threaten with just a look. His physical injuries were disturbing—to say the least—but I was more concerned with his mental state. I prayed to any god or fate that would listen, that he would only open his eyes and look at me.

“Niall? It’s me, Auren,” I said through my tears. I gripped his face tighter, coaxing him to leave whatever horrid place he was in and return to reality. “Niall, please. Listen to my voice. Come back to me.”

He continued to jerk and thrash, so I tugged his head to my chest, holding him against me as I closed my eyes and did the only thing I could think of . . .

In my mind, I could see his essence spinning wildly and lashing out at unknown threats. I willed my own essence to approach, ever so cautiously. A tendril of my light reached out, but the shadows snapped viciously at it in defense. I reined my light back in and took a deep breath. When I tried again, the shadows swarmed, and I clenched my jaw in frustration.

There wasn’t time for this.