Page 50 of A Game of Monsters

There was one way in and out of the Below, and that was through its only door. I’d visited the prison beneath Lockinge Castle twice before and had vowed to never return. Once was as a prisoner, and the last time was to free those fey held captive – fey the world outside the Below had forgotten existed. Never did I expect that I’d have to step foot in it again. But I trusted Seraphine implicitly. If she believed Rafaela was being kept here, then she was.

I didn’t know what I was thinking as I made my way through familiar connecting corridors and grand, linking foyers. If Rafaela was being kept beneath the castle, it would be for a reason. I hardly imagined she’d be without guards. So, when I came into sight of the Below’s entrance, I expected to find Nephilim standing vigil.

The entrance was unguarded.

In fact, it was left slightly ajar, as if the universe knew I was coming. Perhaps this was Seraphine’s doing? She’d know I was impulsive and would go to the Below the moment I could. Had there been Nephilim here that she’d dealt with? Surely that was the case.

Checking the coast was clear behind me, I opened the nondescript wooden door and slipped inside. The walkway beyond was set on a decline and completely shrouded in shadow. I used my hands, trialling them against the rough stone walls, making sure I didn’t walk face first into them.

I continued until a speck of light glowed far ahead of me, signalling the end of the dark corridor. It would soon open up to a cavernous hole, with narrow steps carved into the face of the rocky cave that was the prison.

My body buzzed with the need to reach Rafaela, my mind whispering terrible outcomes, taunting me.

My heavy breathing echoed around me, playing back to me as if I was groaning in resistance. But I wasn’t. In fact, I was making as little sound as possible. I held my breath, and the sound continued. I supposed this place, these very stone walls, held the memories of those who suffered here. Or maybe it was simply my mind, tricking me into remembering the atrocities Aldrick used the Below for.

I stepped into the light, ready to get my first view down upon the pit, when I smelled blood.

Fresh blood. One inhalation and the copper taste clung to the back of my throat. Clapping a hand over my mouth, I stepped onto the podium at the top of the stone steps and peered down into the Below.

What I saw almost brought me to my knees.

The groaning that I’d thought was my own doing didn’t belong to me. It came from another person, the very one I’d been trying to contact for weeks.

Rafaela.

Butshewasn’t alone.

“Rafaela,” I bellowed, panic flaring inside of me alongside magic.

My shout stopped whatever the second person was doing to her. I saw white wings, dark hair and muscle, but as the second person turned up to look at what caused the ruckus, I finally figured out who was with her.

Cassial – all wing splendour and golden armour – spun to look up at me with eyes full of wild fury. In his hand he held a bloodied saw, the vicious metal teeth coated in downy feathers, blood and… flesh.Herflesh.

Rafaela knelt on the floor before him, both wrists bound by chain and attached to a bolt in the wall ahead of her. Even from a distance, I worked out what was happening.

Her back, naked and exposed, was no longer shielded by her dove-grey wings. Protruding from both shoulder blades were mutilated stumps of sinew and bone, dripping fresh gore down her skin until it puddled beneath her. Rafaela’s head hung low, her body quaking.

Cassial was severing her wings, but from the old scars beneath blood-soaked skin, I knew this wasn’t the first time.

I didn’t have time to think. There wasn’t room for thoughts amongst the roaring maelstrom in my mind.

Only action.

Magic exploded inside of my veins like a dying star, bright, brilliant and desperate.

I had to stop Cassial from continuing this horror.Now. There was no time to waste.

There were so many stairs for me to run down to reach her. Instead, my power loosed from its cage. Not as powerful as it had been when fuelled by one of Altar’s keys. But I still had enough.

For Rafaela, it would have to do.

I vaulted over the podium’s wall, my body dropping through the air like a stone in freefall. Fingers flexing, power seeping outwards, the moisture-heavy air solidified beneath me. A sheet of ice spread like a frozen wave, catching my boots until I slipped down it. My stomach muscles tensed, my thighs burned, but I held myself steady as I shot through the air, guided by the ice floor I continued to conjure from the thick air.

I came to a rolling stop on the ground floor, mere inches from where Cassial stood. His large, imposing body blocked my view of Rafaela, but I’d seen enough. The damage was forever imprinted in my mind.

The blood, the saw, the scars new and old.

Gone were the reasons I came to Lockinge. All I cared about was stopping Cassial from hurting Rafaela. Fuck the wedding and his treaty – all of it.

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