The sound of rattling chains haunted every step. Servants, guards, minor courtiers, all of them whispered and stared as one of the Val'Rhayne escorted a single bedraggled prisoner through An'Shar's grand halls.
The fact that I'd slowed my pace to match her limping, shackled gait only made the spectacle worse.
I needed to get us away from these prying eyes.
Fortunately, we were approaching a connecting corridor near the palace dungeons, and something far more useful.
"This way." I guided us between two carved columns toward a small shrine tucked in a forgotten corner.
I'd walked these halls for eight hundred years. I knew them better than the veins in my hands. Every hidden passageway, every secret the palace held. As sons of the Lost Star, my brothers and I had grown up here, trained here, learned every mystery An'Shar concealed.
Including the ones the God King and his court had forgotten.
The shrine stood tucked into an alcove so nondescript that most who passed it mistook it for a storage closet. The builders counted on that.
The air smelled of old incense and neglect. A statue of the Tempest dominated the narrow space, carved from dark blue stone that seemed to shift in the dim light like water caught mid-wave. She was one of the Daeude, the children of old gods. True gods, not like these self-titled God Kings.This one controlled the seas, depicted with eyes like storm clouds and a glowing blue orb in her outstretched hands.
In An'Shar, the Tempest received little reverence. The shrine stayed empty.
She stopped in the doorway, chains rattling as she surveyed the space with obvious suspicion.
"A shrine?"
"A diversion." I moved to the statue and reached for the blue orb.
My fingers closed around smooth stone. I lifted it from the Tempest's hands.
Ancient gears ground to life deep within the walls. The stone behind the altar shuddered, then swung inward, revealing darkness beyond.
She took an instinctive step back, bracing against the doorframe.
"It's not a dungeon, I promise. But it is somewhere they won't follow."
"And why should your promise mean anything to me?"
"It shouldn't." I pulled the dagger from my belt—simple but wickedly sharp. "So take this instead."
She stared at me like I'd lost my mind. Maybe I had.
"Take it," I repeated. "I'll lead. If I take you into danger, you can use this. I suspect you know where the weak spots are."
Her eyes narrowed. "You're giving me a weapon?"
"Yes. Giving you control." I pressed the dagger into her hands, jaw tightening as I saw the raw, bleeding welts where the cuffs had bitten into her skin. "Take this and follow me, or wait for the palace guards to wander this way. Your choice."
She took the blade. "Or I could run for it."
I couldn't help myself. "And how well did that work the first time?"
Fire flashed in her eyes, but different than before.
"I'm taking you to a Witch Healer," I continued. "A powerful one. She can tend your wounds and remove the shackles. Or you can try to..." I searched for the right word because 'run' wasn't it. "Hobble away."
She hesitated, calculation working behind those gold eyes.
"Well, whichever you choose, it was a pleasure to meet you..." My voice trailed off.
Her gaze returned to mine. She hesitated, then drew herself up with as much dignity as chains and rags allowed. "Azralyth. Azralyth Drathex."
"Mikhael Val'Rhayne."
Something unreadable crossed her features. For once I wished I was Akyreal—the youngest of us brothers who understood human emotions better than the rest.
The silence stretched, filled only by the soft clinking of her chains.
"Alright, Mikhael Val'Rhayne," she finally said. "You better not be lying."
"I haven't lived this long just to get knifed in the back." I carefully replaced the orb. The grinding gears shifted tone—the door would seal again in minutes. "But we need to move. The passage won't stay open forever."
I stepped through into darkness.
Behind me, I heard the shuffle-step of her chains, iron scraping against stone as she followed.
The door ground shut behind us, sealing away the shrine and the world beyond.
The passage swallowed us whole the moment the door ground shut.
Darkness pressed in from all sides. The air smelled of ancient dust and stone. This part of the palace had fallen from favour over two centuries ago, and these halls from memory not long after. The Power used to create the Witchlight that had once guided the royal family had long since run dry, leaving only empty brackets and the memory of illumination.
The passage was narrow, forcing us into single file. My shoulders nearly brushed both walls as I moved forward. Behind me I could hear Azralyth's chains rattle softly with each step.
"How far?" Her voice was steady despite everything.
"Not very. These passages connect to the palace's older sections." I kept my voice low.
We moved in silence for a time before we arrived at a T junction where the passage split into two opposing directions. I came to a stop as I tried to remember which fork led to the Star Garden and which to the royal quarters. The distinction was important here.
But before I had even a moment to think something sharp jabbed into my left buttock.
"Gah!" The undignified yelp escaped before I could stop it. Pain lanced through my rear, making me jerk forward.
"Shh!" Azralyth hissed from behind me. "Do you want them to hear us?"
I turned my head slightly, careful not to move too much. "Did you just stab me?" I asked, rubbing the wound.
"Don't be so dramatic." Her voice held a note of defensive irritation that would be amusing if my buttock wasn't currently throbbing. "I didn't stab you. I poked you. There's a difference."
"A difference?" I turned slightly, trying to catch a glimpse of her expression in the near-total darkness. All I could make out was the faint gleam of those golden eyes.
"Yes. Besides, you stopped without warning. In the dark. What was I supposed to do?"
"Not poke me with the dagger I gave you?" I shifted my weight, acutely aware of the warm spot where the blade's tip had found its mark through the fabric of my trousers.
Silence, and then a sigh of resignation. "I'm sorry. But next time, warn me before you stop. It's so damn dark, I can barely see past my own feet."
"Fair enough. I'll remember that for the next time." Despite the pain in my rear, I found myself fighting a smile.
"It's right, I think..." I said, rubbing the sore spot on my left butt cheek and returning my attention to the junction ahead.
The passage to the right felt cooler, suggesting it descended into the older foundations. The Star Garden was built on ancient ground, where the first palace had stood. "Yes. The right passage leads down to the old sections."
"You think?" Now she sounded worried, her voice pitching slightly higher. The chains rattled as she shifted behind me.
"It's been a while since I used these passages. But I'm fairly certain." More than a century, if I was honest. The tunnels had been mapped in my mind once, but time had a way of softening the edges of memory, even for the immortal.
"Fairly certain." She repeated my words with the flat tone of someone reassessing their life choices. "That's reassuring."
"Would you rather go back and face the God King's court?" I glanced back at her, catching the pale oval of her face in the gloom. "I'm sure Qasim would be delighted to continue your... conversation."
"I'd rather not be wandering in pitch darkness following a man who's only 'fairly certain' where we're going."
By the Daeude, this woman was impossible.
I bit back a retort and we took the right passage, descending into cooler air.
Stepping into this passage was like moving from a forest stream into a river. The walls retreated considerably, widening into something that felt almost ceremonial in its proportions. It was enough for three men to walk abreast, yet she continued walked behind me, dagger raised, ready to make good on her promise if I failed to keep mine.
My night vision had fully settled now, rendering the darkness less oppressive, though shadows still clung to the corners like old ghosts.
"Almost there," I said quietly.
Silence. Not that I'd expected an answer.
Only the rattle of her chains continued to haunt our steps as we moved through the dark. My eyes adjusted further, picking out details I'd have missed moments before.
Ancient tapestries hung in various states of decay along the walls, their once-vibrant threads now muted to shades of rust and shadow, depicting battles from ages past. I recognized many of them. It felt a little like walking through a roughly drawn sketch of your life's more memorable moments. For good and bad.
The passage floor had changed too, from rough-hewn stone to fitted tiles that spoke of craftsmanship from a different era.
And then we were there.
The Star Garden.