Chapter 144
Serafine POV
These stone steps are narrow, and the spiral downward feels tight, with uneven turns that force us to move even slower than we would have planned to.
The deeper we go, the colder the air becomes, until it feels like it is sinking into my skin. It sets a chill in my bones that has nothing to do with temperature. Every breath tastes like stone and earth, ancient, unmoved and untouched.
It’s strange, there are no torches, no sunlight, only the faint glow of the threads around my hands. At least we know this place is empty, no one can live like this.
My chest already feels tight with the damp and cold. I keep my hands away from my body so the threads can cast a soft silver light ahead of us onto the stone. I begin to notice that it reflects off carvings that are etched deep into the walls. There are markings that also grow more twisted the further we descend. Some are jagged like runes that are meant to bind or bleed. Then there are others… ones that I don’t recognise at all.
When we reach the bottom, the stairwell leaves us in a narrow hall, it’s carved out of stone and is just about wide enough for two of us to walk side by side. I think that, but I doubt Xander and Killian could fit side by side in this place.
The ceilings arch low, and for some reason, the air becomes more thick and oppressive, as if it wasn’t bad enough before, now it’s far worse.
The threads beneath my feet are pulsing again, vibrating against the soles of my boots. It’s like they’re warning me of something, or maybe pulling me in?
I don’t know.
My eyes scan everything, and I stop. Then I see them. Threads, real ones, all coiling along the walls. Tangled skeins of pale green and silver run through the stone walls like veins. They branch upward and across the ceiling as well. I notice that some are pulsing with life, while others are blackened, brittle
and dead.
They writhe slowly as we pass, not enough to do anything powerful, except for making my stomach twist. Even down here, some of them are dying out.
I hear Killian exhaling behind me. “What the hell is this place?” he whispers. “I swear it smells like death, magic and something worse.”
He’s not wrong about that. “I believe this is a root chamber,” I whisper. “It’s connected to the leyline. The magic is feeding through here. They aren’t meant to be here, something has dragged them here.”
“Feeding what?” he mutters.
I don’t have an answer to that, so I don’t try to answer. Instead, I keep moving carefully, and we all keep moving carefully. They have their blades out, and I’ve got my threads of magic ready. The threads here grow denser as we get deeper. Some curl across the floor like vines, but eventually the narrow hall opens into a passage.
The tense and tight feel of the hall disappears when we step into a cavernous room. The walls here rise high into a dome of blackened stone. Finally, I don’t feel like the room is getting too small for me. The air is hot her,e though, not cold like everywhere else.
For some reason, the heat doesn’t go out of this room into that hall. I can tell magic has been used here, the air is wet with it, and it’s heavy like breath.
There’s a low thrum that beats through the chamber, rhythmic, almost like a pulse of some sort.
In the centre of the room, I see roots hanging from the ceiling, it’s like a big web, my eyes flicker to them, and follow them down.
The moment I see what’s beneath them, I stop walking. My eyes focus on the figure that stands at the far side of the chamber. He’s partially turned away, and his hands are outstretched over a carved stone basin. His posture is still, not replaced, though, it’s like he’s waiting for something.
My mouth goes dry at the sight, and for a moment I forget how to speak, and what I’m here to do.
“James?” His name is a whisper, torn from somewhere deep within me. A breath leaves me as I wonder why he’s here, and how long he’s been down here for now. I watch as he turns slowly at the sound of my voice.
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08:49 Wed, 25 Jun
Chapter 144
90%
His face has barely changed, he looks like him, older, sure, maybe. But it’s him. His features are leaner, his skin is paler as well, but I’d know those eyes anywhere. It’s James. The eighteen–year–old who was kind and gentle in ways no one else ever was with me.
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The boy who once stood outside my window at midnight and would whisper that he was my mate, and the moon goddess had chosen him to be my partner. The same James who insistent when I turned eighteen I would feel the bond for him. I still remember when he was exiled from his own pack and ours, how he was screaming that he would wait for me.
He was exiled because of me, and his family disowned him because of what I did. Now, he’s here?
My body moves forward without even thinking. My heart is slamming against my ribs. “James-”
Xander’s hand suddenly shoots out and grabs my arm, ,before yanking me back so hard that I nearly stumble.
“Don’t,” he snaps, eyes fixed on the figure. “Look closer.”
I freeze. What does he mean? Look closer. He nods once toward James, and I do look, really look now.
The threads around James, if it’s even him, aren’t just pulsing with magic. They’re rooted in him. Thin lines of silver coil into the base of his skull, into his spine, his wrists. They all shimmer as they pass through his skin and disappear into the walls and the floor like he’s anchored to them.
This is wrong, all of it is wrong. The basin in front of him is glowing with the same light. It’s filled with a liquid that shifts too smoothly to be water. As I watch more closely, I see one of the darker threads pulse, feeding into him,
His shoulders twitch, and his head tilts before he smiles.
That’s not James‘ smile. It’s sharp, crooked and cruel.
That smile chills me deeper than any magic ever could. I recognise it from somewhere, it is familiar but also twisted and corrupted into something dark
and now unfamiliar.
He stays standing perfectly still and just watches me. The threads that are embedded in his flesh are glowing brighter with every second that passes by.
“James,” I say again, this time quieter, my voice nearly shaking. “It’s me, Serafine, do you remember me?” I watch him carefully, waiting for any flicker of
the boy I once knew.
I watch his eyes narrow slightly, and there’s amusement behind them, but it’s cold beneath his darkened gaze. “I remember, Serafine,” he replies slowly. The voice that speaks is his, but it’s also different. It echoes slightly as if two voices are speaking at once. It’s weird and I can’t work out why. “How could I ever forget?”
Xander’s grip tightens on my arm enough to remind me that he is here, guarding me against whatever is happening, and whatever James has become. I can hear Killian and the guards shifting uneasily behind us. I know they can sense danger even though they don’t know James or our history.
“What happened to you?” I ask. Something has, why is he here? “How are you here, and why are you connected to the threads?”
He tilts his head slightly, as if he’s considering it before looking down at the strands of silver and dark thread woven together and into his skin. His hand lifts, and he turns it carefully as if he’s examining it and seeing it clearly for the first time.
“Connected?” he laughs the words, but the laugh sounds empty and chilling. “Serafine, I’m not connected. I am the threads. They are me. We are one
and the same.”
I swallow hard. “That’s not possible,” I argue. These threads belong to the earth, they are needed to keep everything else alive. These threads aren’t like mine, they aren’t made to connect to a person.
“Why?” he asks quietly. “Why is this not possible?” He raises a brow and steps closer, slowly. Each step echoes softly. The threads around him shift and pulse as if they are responding to his movement. It’s not right, I can feel it, the need for them to break free of me.
“When my family banished me and ordered your father to exile me, I had nothing left. Then Gideon showed me this place, showed me the threads, and wasn’t broken and alone anymore.” His hand shifts, turning like he’s watching them. “They gave me strength, purpose and a reason to survive. They didn’t abandon me like you did.”
2/3
08:49 Wed, 25
Chapter 144
The accusation slices
Jun
90%
deeply. I It cuts through every y layer I’ve built around my heart, this,” I I whisper. “I didn’t abandon you, James,
and my
painfully
in my
chest.
“I never wanted
any of
Thad no way of escaping.”
If I could
have been
there for him, I would have.
“Yet you
didn’t defend
me,” he counters, his
eyes hardening.
“Not once
did you
try
to defend
me you me, or tell
knew I didn’t do it.
Only
Gideon
did.
I stare
want to
at him, coldness
answer, the
Gideon, coiling in my gut. This is thought of v
f what he could say scares
he’s done
- me.
this. “What t did he do
to
you?”
Task,
my voice
barely
above
a whisper.
I don’t know if f
