‘You can’t hesitate to hit me.’ Levi stood so close that Doran smelled the blood in his hair. ‘They’ll know something is wrong if you do. Promise you’ll hit me?’
If only the circumstances had been different. There were so many things he could have said, and all of them better responses than what he said. ‘Fine. I promise.’
Levi turned around and crossed his wrists. ‘Bind my hands.’
Doran took the rope off his new belt and gritted his teeth. So many better responses, but they would all have to wait. He’d help Ginger with whatever was on his mind first.
They had a prison to break into.
Day 102
Something has happened. I stepped into my gardens late last night, and when I picked a flower for Elsbet, it withered in my hands. I leaned against a tree for support, and it, too, blackened and died.
My memory is sharper.
My skill has improved more than I ever dreamed.
I look at the dead flower and the dead tree. Is it worth it?
Ancients. What have I become?
Chapter 5 – Naavah Ora
Naavah Ora stood outside the walls of a forbidden city she had only admired from afar and ran her hand over the walls’ smooth stone. Were they hollow or were there corridors inside? Did spirits ever patrol the ramparts? There’d never been a need to defend Dunhă or watch for intruders before Ceallach forced his way inside. Maybe the walls only served as a familiar symbol to the spirits to make their passing easier. To Naavah Ora, they were a symbol of impossible achievements and the taboo dreams of an elven child who hadn’t realised how different she was. She didn’t care if the smile on her lips was hers or Ithrean’s joy at being home.
She could have asked Ithrean for answers, but she didn’t. If she ever received any, it’d be because she’d earned them by defeating Ceallach or discovering them herself or both.
Her hands wandered up the wall, and her eyes wandered higher when her hands couldn’t reach any farther. There were towers here, though none were imposing. She didn’t see the mansion at the top of the city she’d spotted from a distance, but was Ceallach watching her? Was he looking down at her from a throne of skeletons while she admired the architecture?
‘Won’t he know we’re here?’ Naavah Ora asked.
‘PERHAPS, BUT IT IS UNLIKELY. IF HE KNOWS WE’RE IN DUNHĂ, HE LIKELY EXPECTS US TO HIDE. HE KNOWS I’M WEAKENED. EVEN IF HE ASSUMES THAT I’M PLANNING SOMETHING, I DOUBT HE SUSPECTS ME AT THE GATES.
‘BUT EVEN IF HE DOES, IT DOESN’T MATTER. HE STOLE DUNHĂ FROM ME, BUT IT’S MY CREATION. I KNOW IT BETTER THAN HE EVER WILL.’
‘Open,’ Naavah Ora said with a voice that was and wasn’t hers, and the bulwark parted like high grass touched by a breeze. Inside Naavah Ora’s mind, Ithrean smiled. Naavah Ora smiled with her at the magic of the moment.
‘DUNHĂ LISTENS WHEN I SPEAK. IT MAY NOT KNOW THE FACE I WEAR, BUT IT KNOWS MY ENERGY AND IT KNOWS THE POWER IN MY VOICE. COME. IT IS GOOD TO BE HOME.’
The face she wore… Was that all she was to Ithrean? A convenient fashion statement? Would Ithrean throw her aside once she was no longer useful? Naavah Ora didn’t like her chances if that was the case, but there was nothing she could do about it. She wanted to refuse treatment similar to an old dress or worn boots, but how many old clothes had she discarded and forgotten about when she had outgrown them? She doubted she would have any more say in her fate than her old favourite shirts had had in theirs; although, she hoped she was more to Ithrean than a mindless piece of fabric, even if Ithrean was so much more.
Naavah Ora willed herself to walk into the city. Her knees grew softer with every step. Her heart beat faster as her grandmother’s memory whispered warnings into her mind—the city is not for the living, Ora—but she stepped through the opening…
And then she was there.
Inside the city of the dead.
From afar, it had shone bright like the only star in a dark night. Up close, it was everything she’d imagined—white walls, white pavements, and—
It wasn’t at all what she’d imagined. There were no souls, and the shadows were too deep somehow, too many, as if the corruption affected them too. Spirits didn’t speak, so she hadn’t expected chatter everywhere, but they had a peaceful hum around them, and that was missing.
She swallowed. The city of the dead was wrong without its inhabitants, with only too-long shadows visiting the white streets. How much time did they have? What would happen when it was all shadow?
‘I FEEL THEM.’
Naavah Ora hadn’t sensed it, but she felt it now. She closed her eyes and felt the city, like a part of her mind had left her body to search the rest of the city without her bones and limbs slowing it down. Even though she hadn’t taken another step since entering the city, she knew what lay around the corner, knew what lay around the one after that. It was dizzying and exciting and forbidden. The city was like a cat huddling up against her at night while she slept, grateful that her elf was there and providing familiarity.
She leaned against a wall to steady herself.
‘Is it always like this? Is your mind at all places at once when you’re here?’
‘NO. USUALLY, IT IS EASIER. ONCE YOU FULLY ACCEPT ME AND WE ARE ONE, IT WILL BE AS EASY AS BREATHING AGAIN.’
Ithrean made it sound so simple, like Naavah Ora’s sense of self wasn’t worth anything. She supposed that, next to a god’s power, it really wasn’t.
‘ONCE WE ARE ONE, YOU WILL SEE THAT I SENSE DUNHĂ AT ALL TIMES, NOT JUST WHEN I’M HERE.’ Naavah Ora’s knees softened again. ‘IT ALLOWS ME TO WATCH OVER MY HOME AND RETURN.’
But still Ceallach took it from you. Naavah Ora didn’t dare say it out loud—it was horrifying enough to think Ithrean likely knew her thoughts regardless.
‘Where are they?’ Naavah Ora asked. ‘Are the Suf’afir all right?’
Ithrean’s pleased smile disturbed her. ‘I REMEMBER WHEN YOU COUNTED YOURSELF AS ONE OF THEM. PERHAPS YOU ARE ACCEPTING ME AFTER ALL?’
Naavah Ora wouldn’t respond while she was still so torn. Did she see the Suf’afir as separate? They had been her family once. Weren’t they anymore? Had a part of her accepted Ithrean taking over, or was she reading too much into it? She would worry about it later. Her sisters were in danger.
Ithrean’s mood darkened. Naavah Ora thought she felt her eyes blacken.
‘HE HAS CREATED A PLACE TO EXPERIMENT ON MY CHILDREN. HE CALLS IT HIS WORKSHOP.’
Naavah Ora didn’t know if she was shaking with anger or if it was Ithrean’s, but it didn’t matter. Ceallach was experimenting on her sisters, and he would hurt for it. Oh, how she’d make him suf—
She took a deep breath. Ithrean’s rage was a terrible thing; she had to be careful not to let it consume them both.
‘Are they injured?’
‘NOT BEYOND MY ABILITIES.’
Naavah Ora didn’t want to consider what that meant.