Page 82 of Violet Legacy

Dante moved to stand next to Talik at the opening of a monstrous dark cavern on the edge of a cliff. Underneath their feet, water cascaded over the edge with a thunderous clap as it tumbled into the abyss. He looked around, the ledge they were standing on was no more than thirty feet wide and followed the entire cavern. Above them was a high domed ceiling, with thousands of twinkling lights, reminding him of the night sky. Small openings, potentially tunnels or entrances to bigger caves, appeared haphazardly along the walls.

“Is that a viewing platform?” Talik nodded to a black glass pane a hundred yards in front of them before he turned to look at Chaucer. “Do you want to see how steady it is?”

“Elders first,” Chaucer shot back as he walked to the other end. “This should not be here.”

Dante didn’t miss the excitement in Chaucer’s voice. It reminded him of the young boy that had been his shadow. But that Chaucer was long gone, and no longer could he hide behind childish fears.

Chaucer continued, his eyes bright, “Idris will have brought Rieka here.”

Pale-yellow lights twinkled, suspended midair, lighting up the cavern with an ethereal glow. The echo of running water rose from the abyss, the thundering waves crashed against the rock. The water moved surprisingly fast for something that wasn’t supposed to exist. In the middle of the cavern, more than one hundred feet from where they were standing, was a small island. Perfectly circular, it appeared no bigger than twenty feet wide. There was no way to reach it. In the center of the island, a violet flame licked the air, changing colors. From lilac to magenta to a deep amethyst and variations he had never seen before. The power of the flame was in its ability to intoxicate its viewer into believing that they didn’t need substance, water, or air to live. It made a mockery of the diluted flame they kept in the Arx. This was Vandana’s flame at its most powerful.

In that moment, he believed his father’s whispered stories of their queen who’d had the power to remake the world but had chosen not to. Instead, she had let them be damned. Because of the love for a child.

“Is that the tomb?” Chaucer pointed to a small, isolated island that stood in the middle of a cavern. Veneration dripped from every word.

Next to him, Talik faintly swore under his breath. Dante had stopped praying a long time ago, but even he was tempted to whisper the childhood words. He slowly registered the four concentric rings around the island, representing each of the surviving Houses.

A plain black coffin lay directly under the flame guarded by two large stone serpopards.

Rieka should be here with them, this was what she had been searching for. The thought was like a knife wound to him.

“Talik?”

“Nothing.” Disgust filled Talik’s voice. “The rock must be interfering with the heat signatures. They look like they have disappeared.”

“Or they have regrouped,” Khalida added. “There appear to be multiple entrances into the cavern.” Khalida pointed to the small enclaves scattered around them. “If even half of them are open, we could be surrounded, and we wouldn’t know until it was too late. We are in the perfect kill zone.”

Icy fingers curled around his spine. An otherworldly stillness descended over them. Dante turned toward the origin. The warning came a second too late.

Khalida and Talik were frozen in place, their weapons held up high. Chaucer remained hunched over as he stared at the ground.

Dante had spent centuries being mentored and schooled by ambitious, power-hungry Atlanteans. Individuals who would have sold their entire bloodline into poverty to gain an inch of power. It was nothing compared to what he now sensed.

Raw and ancient. Neither human nor Atlantean.

“House Mneseus.” The male voice echoed through the cavern. “The Delacroix spare, if I am not mistaken.”

The voice was ancient, but familiar. It triggered a forgotten memory that danced at the edge of his mind. Dante pushed it down. He couldn’t afford to be distracted by the past.

“You are?” Dante asked. A simple parlor trick, but effective. The shape of the cavern made it impossible to identify where the voice was coming from. He lowered his weapon as he casually surveyed the area. The others were still frozen. Whoever he was dealing with was gifted. And they wanted Dante functional.

“I have had many names, but you may call me Lucien.” A dark shadow shimmered above the tomb next to the flame as a black cloak materialized from nothing. A lone figure crouched next to the stone serpopards and patted them on their heads.

Gifted may be an understatement.

Lucien threw back his hood. Pale blue eyes gazed at Dante. There was no hint of emotion, but he recognized the unquenchable thirst for power in the other male’s gaze, the ruthlessness that suggested there wasn’t a boundary that wouldn’t be crossed to get what he wanted. Dante knew that look; he saw it every time he looked in a mirror.

“Lucien,” Dante said slowly, enunciating every syllable. “Where is Rieka?”

The world around him shimmered as an unsteady wooden bridge materialized between them. Lucien crooked a finger at him, daring him to cross onto the other side. The command infuriated Dante.

The violet flame erupted behind Lucien, almost engulfing him. The heat hit Dante at full force, and he gritted his teeth against the discomfort.

Lucien stood untouched in the middle, a bored expression on his face as the flame retreated. He looked at Dante. A shadow of a smile edged his lips. “Rieka will be here shortly.”

Chapter 52

“Wait!”Riekayelledasshe pulled up her sleeve, displaying the glowing bracelet. In the last five minutes, it had gone into turbo drive; the shocks seemed to have merged into one long, painful electrical current. Her body was rapidly becoming numb to the pain, but at this rate, she didn’t know if she was going to be electrocuted from the inside out. “They—the Anki—talk to me.”

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