Page 26 of Prince of the Phantom Sky

“I . . . I did not!” Bree snapped, flustered. “You’re lying!”

“You did a bit,” Blake murmured quietly, and Bree glared at him.

“Brisella!” Rashi snapped.

“Don’t call me that!” Bree seethed across the table. Theron’s chuckle reverberated through Kora, warming her heart, but it was quickly replaced with dread as he began coughing. His lungs hacked, spewing black bile across the white marble.

Barron grimaced, moving the talisman away from the gunk. A servant made it to the table before Ivar, wiping away the bile. Ivar tensed beside Kora, retreating slowly back to his post by the fireplace. Barron tapped the talisman once, and a black tendril curled around Kora’s chin, forcing her to look at him.

“Enough games, pet. It’s time to make a choice.”

11

Raiden

Plated armour smothered the guard. Tufts of sheep’s wool packed between leathers hid every inch of skin. As he raised his lance, a cry rang from his lips. “Stop! Where did you come from!”

The Citadel loomed at the top of the cliff, shining like a pretty golden target. Leto’s magic had allowed them to sail up to the mossy bank, leading to a secret tunnel Aryn informed them of. The guard had been wandering the bank, and nearly soiled himself at the deadly ship appearing out of nowhere like a popped bubble.

“What did he say?” Leto signed. A wrap covered the guard’s mouth, and his arms shook as he raised the lance higher, its pointed end nearly nicking Raiden’s nose.

“He said ‘you made me shit myself’,” Raiden signed back and Leto smiled, his lavender eyes flashing once in warning.

Aryn waved his arms, summoning the guard’s attention and approached him slowly. Aerion stiffened beside Raiden. They’d gathered on the bank of stones and moss, slicked with ocean spray and seaweed. Bone Rattler was anchored, and a select group of sailors hobbled behind them whilst the rest remained on the ship.

Raiden craned his head back, taking in the layers of balustrades lining the cliff face, fortified by stalagmites erupting from the ground. They’d been abandoned long ago, during the Galenite War. He remembered firing cannons here once, watching their enemy fall during a momentary win they’d gained on surpassing South Wharf Station.

Now, it was barren. Lost to walking ghosts of those who’d died long ago in this prison. Unable to pass over to Umbra, their souls trapped here by the empire’s chains. Those souls were his burden to bear. Citizens of Talmon didn’t deserve death, only their wretched leaders.

“I was here before,” Aryn soothed, fishing something from his pouch. “You gave us safe passage from the dungeons. Now I’m asking you to get us in.”

Aerion inhaled sharply as Aryn produced two golden coins. Raiden eyed him suspiciously as the guard spluttered, thrusting his gloved hand out.

“Aye, I’ll take those.” The guard quickly pocketed them before Raiden could glimpse their pattern. They appeared unique, and he didn’t recognise the branding.

The sea quietly lapped behind them. It’d been eerily still as of late. The storms of the Shaurock Sea had disappeared, as if nature were waiting for something—or someone—to make it whole again.

He knew the feeling.

Following the guard through a hidden tunnel, Raiden swerved and ducked around stalactites cascading from the ceiling, muttering as tendrils of seaweed smacked his face. Skylar sniggered behind him, raising her torch to cast light through the rusted-tone space. It wound and continued endlessly, and Raiden’s nerves reached the edge, as darkness continued ahead.

Aerion followed Aryn closely, hushed whispers exchanging between the two as the guard sped ahead, his legs rapid. He flitted around the curves, navigating the tunnel blind, flying past breaks in the walls leading back to the ocean. After what felt like an eternity, a raging cry echoed ahead, bouncing around the tunnel, causing Raiden’s muscles to curl so tightly he nearly snapped his sword.

They filed out onto a platform, at the base of a spiral walkway. Wind barraged the cave, whipping Raiden’s skin with frostbite, toying with his hair, roaring in his ears. This wasn’t like his usual wind. It didn’t greet him.

No. It wanted him to leave.

He raised a hand, aiming for the ocean flowing through the serrated mouth of the cave. The wind screamed as he forced it back, gritting his teeth against the resistance of his natural element, until he created a barrier at the mouth. Eerie silence fell upon the dungeon.

Skin sizzling, his senses prickled at the lack of tolerance from nature. Turning to face the walkway, his mouth dried. Cells upon cells lined it, rising to the top, with planks interspersing it. At the base were dried, old blood-stained jagged rocks, with odd pieces of skeletons piling up in the shallower waters.

This was a place of death, created outside of the elements, away from the eyes of the gods. It was only natural for Raiden’s magic to weaken in such a place—the winds wanted to rage. They wanted to cry and scream at the stench of ruin and decay. At the violation of their gifts.

“Good gods,” Skylar breathed, taking in the dungeons. “She’s trapped here?”

Aryn faced the guard. “Is Kora Cadell still here? Is she alive?”

The guard grunted, crossing his arms and refusing to answer. Anger spliced through Raiden, and he grabbed the guard by the neck, lifting him off the ground with a growl. “Where is she?”