Page 19 of Prince of the Phantom Sky

“They’ve been gone for centuries, Agatha.” Kora forced down a chunk of sea biscuit, its bland, dried texture scratching her throat. Thanos seemed intent on remaining out of the other gods’ business, as well as the events in the mortal realm. His only goal was aiding and caring for passed souls within Umbra. Gods, she wasn’t even sure if he could access the mortal realm.

“They will return. For he is coming. And he will bring darkness so deep, no life will walk again.”

8

Raiden

Hurry!” he screamed in her mind.

Fear and desperation consumed him as Kordelia lunged, her right arm reaching for the sky. Barron leered from behind, his twisted face curving as his power spooled, dripping from every pore of his body. A wave of darkness rose, consuming him and Blake, surrounded by an army of death marching onto the ship.

Raiden frantically tried to grab hold of her. His own power whipped in the air, thrashing against the atmosphere as his heart plunged. Barron’s tar-like magic shot forward, latching onto her back, curling around her torso and shoulders like a lost lover. His soul cried as Kordelia arched, her body nearly snapping in two, her pain reverberating down the bond.

It nearly severed it. The agony so hot Raiden’s power exploded, an array of hailstones shooting from his back, away from the one person he was trying to save.

“Raiden, I can’t—”

Her other arm flung back, pressing into the side of her face as her scar shone with gloomy light, curving around her jaw and neck, caressing that metal collar sinfully. Aryn grabbed hold of Raiden, his golden eyes blazing so brightly it nearly blinded him. He dragged Raiden back, as Kordelia’s lips turned blue, her rigid body collapsing at Barron’s feet. His triumphant smile beamed through the blanket of ungodly darkness, and Raiden saw red.

“We have to go!” Aryn yelled over the rapidly increasing torrents of Raiden’s power. Kordelia . . . she was . . . was she dead? No. She couldn’t be. He’d know if she was.

“No!” Raiden roared, as their bond withered, Kordelia’s presence hovering on the edge of death. His gut roiled, his body, heart, and soul incapable of being separated from her again. That lone darkness enclosed on the edges of his mind, the nightmare he’d finally escaped returning to swallow him whole.

“We’ll come back for her!” Aryn raised a hand, blocking the harsh snap of Raiden’s winds. “We’ll die if we don’t leave now!”

Raiden cast his stare back to his siblings. Skylar was paling by the second, her bloodied head dripping into the suddenly calm seas. Aerion lingered on the railing, his usual charm replaced with dreaded shock at the dark magic unfurling, consuming the ship as though it were made of paper.

“Windward!” Barron’s magic pushed against his, and Raiden yelled at the force, his power threatening to submit to the unnatural force. Barron rushed forward, the wall of shadows expanding like a torrential wave, mimicking Kordelia’s beautiful element.

Raiden reluctantly nodded to Aryn, and Aerion leapt into the air, using his power to carry himself and Skylar across the winds. Raiden grabbed hold of Aryn and spared a glance back. Barron’s shreds of wispy darkness toyed with Kordelia’s body, probing her flesh, stroking her moonlight hair, before curling around her limbs.

With a crushing yell, he launched into the sky, leaving his heart behind on the deck of his enemy.

With a gasp, Raiden awoke on the ceiling of his shared cabin. He crashed back to the floor, the hammock burning his skin as he toppled over it. Fuck.

He quickly surveyed the room. Skylar’s and Aerion’s hammocks were empty, and sunlight filtered through the portholes lining the far side. Dreary and drab woodwork appeared a faded grey within the daylight, devoid of life.

Thank the gods his siblings hadn’t witnessed that. Since losing Kordelia a second time, nightmares had plagued his dreams, conjuring unwanted memories of how she looked fucking dead when he’d abandoned her on that ship.

And every time he had those dreams, he woke up floating on the ceiling, his power summoned within his sleep. He rubbed his face, wiping sleep from his tired eyes as he stretched out his limbs, wincing at the pain in his shoulder from crashing to the floor.

At least this cabin had intact walls. He dreaded to think what would happen if he floated up into the sky during one of these . . . episodes.

“Rai? Are you awake yet? I heard you thundering around in there.” Aerion opened the door to the cabin and raised a brow at Raiden sitting on the floor. “You slept through breakfast.”

“I’m not hungry,” Raiden mumbled.

Leto’s crew had the best breakfast going in Galen, but food was the last thing on Raiden’s mind. He stood and cricked his neck, before dressing into their matching flight suits, the supple leather fitting to his muscles like a second skin. It’d been designed for him, created to match his power, to enhance his skills.

Aerion stepped into the cabin. “You need to eat. We’re worried about you.”

Raiden paused as he glanced to an array of weapons placed on a crate in the centre of the room. It was within reaching distance to all their hammocks . . . just in case.

“I’m fine. Or I’ll be fine once we rescue Kordelia.” He picked up a short sword, sheathing it into the scabbard attached to his hip. His fingers brushed the decorative dark hilt of weaving iris flowers, entwined by thorns. A bespoke piece fashioned for him during his darkest years. When the Windward family had been torn down the middle.

A jittery energy pulsated from his body, and Raiden continuously picked up and put down weapons, keeping his hands in use to stop his well of power overflowing into this aching cavern inside, and consuming him whole.

“That’s the thing.” Aerion blew out a breath, flexing his tattooed knuckles. “I’m completely on board with rescuing her. I know how much she means to you, what she means to the revolution, but . . .”