It was a nice fantasy.
But we weren’t ordinary people. We were soldiers. Part of a team that happened to be the only thing that stood between the entity and Nevertide’s complete destruction.
“What happens now?” I asked, breaking away from the kiss.
“We decide whether we attack at the cove, or build up a stronghold here. We need to discuss it.”
I nodded. We both rose from the steps, ready to head back into the palace.
“I hate to think of the entity having watched us all that time,” I muttered as we walked to the main entrance, “lying in wait, calculating its next move.”
“As do I. Which is why I think we should be going to the enemy, not waiting for it to come to us.”
The idea frightened me, but I agreed—and so would my grandfather. GASP members didn’t wait. They fought. Bravely, fearlessly, facing the enemy head on. Not cowering behind protective barriers and castle walls.
Jenus
I stopped wondering what time of day it was. The endless blackness of the tunnel seemed to seep into my brain. In my weakened state it felt like I’d never known what daylight was—that all I had known was the dark and the slow, steady plonks of water droplets running from the ceiling to the floor.
We crawled the entire way mostly in silence, except when the apothecary chastised me for my smell. Humiliated, wet and exhausted, I continued to crawl along the passage, hoping for a small flicker of light that would indicate we were nearing our destination.
The only thing that brought me comfort was imagining the rage and disbelief on Tejus’s face when he realized that I had managed to escape him. Not only had I escaped him, but I would finally be united with my master—I would have my revenge on the humans and the rest of them. To occupy my mind, I thought of all the ways I could end the life of his newly created sentry—how I would make him watch as I tortured her, drawing out the pain, making sure that each scream and cry for mercy was forever imprinted on his mind.
That would be an appropriate vengeance for all that I had suffered at the hands of my brother.
I stopped crawling. My right hand had found a space in the wall of the passage. I could feel a slight wind coming from the opening, though the air was dank and stale.
“There’s an opening, do I turn?” I asked the apothecary, feeling my way along the outline of the passage. It felt like there was another tunnel joining this one.
“No, that goes to Hellswan. Keep straight.”
My home.
I felt a small pang of emotion—something close to regret or sorrow, I couldn’t be entirely sure. I ignored it, continuing to heave myself along the passage in the direction of the cove. Hopefully reaching the adjoining tunnel meant that our journey would soon be at an end.
Eventually, through the gloom, I started to see light. It wasn’t the daylight I’d expected, but a strange greenish glow, too bright and lurid to be natural.
“What is that?” I whispered, a strange sense of awe and reverence overcoming me. It was powerful, whatever was causing that light.
“The temple of my people,” she hissed. “The fact that you’ve never set foot in it makes me wonder why our master wants you at all. I have spent most of my life devoted to the cause—and he wants Hellswan swine instead!”
“Why would he want someone like you?” I shot back. “Your bloodline is lowly and poor. I am the son of an emperor, with more power and ability than you could ever hope to obtain.”
Foolish woman.
“You are no longer the son of an emperor,” she reminded me cruelly, “and you are weak—so weak that you let your own brother treat you no better than a four-legged beast.”
I ignored her. She knew nothing. My master recognized my true power—he would know me, know the glory within me that would shine through, if only I was given the chance.
Pushing myself forward using the last remaining vestiges of my energy, I slid, face first, down into the open. I looked up from the ground. Four stone walls surrounded me, all carved with rudimentary runes, all of them bleeding green light into the chamber. In the center of the room was an oblong-shaped box, split in half as if it had burst open from the inside—its top split in two, each lying either side of its base. Crawling toward it, I peered over the top, seeing what lay within. It was empty—just dirt lay at the bottom—and it reeked of decay.
The apothecary squeezed out of the passage.
“We need to go above,” she muttered, making her way to one of the walls. She pressed her hand against the stone wall, covering one of the runes. A moment later, part of the wall slid sideways, revealing a door—and beyond that, a sandy and muddy track which led up to the cove.