Page 70 of Shadow and Smite

“Let me check,” I replied.

I found the lens of the Underworld, checking our surroundings. The Shadow Throne was near where Ayla had indicated. I sensed the web of magic surrounding us.

I allowed a thread of my power to glance against the intelligent Shade resting nearby. A spark flashed across the Shade’s synapses.

The entirety of Inarus’s control flashed in my awareness. More troops were stationed throughout the isle. One clustered at the shore, preparing for an underwater venture. Smaller teams of Shade scouts slept hidden within caverns throughout the Isles. The branded were guided closer…

All the threads coalesced at a single point: Inarus. I saw the necromancer, sensing him as if I were in his body. He was in a well-lit room, seated on a meditation cushion. He held a crystal skull between his palms, using it as a focus to help bind his large army. A black diamond, surging with raw energy, powered his commands.

I saw it all in a moment.

Just as quickly, the web of Inarus’s necromancy vanished. The Shade in charge blinked their eyes, coming to life. They scanned the barn, searching, aware that something had been disturbed.

We might have been out of sight, but we were not invisible. The Shade looked in our direction.

I defended with necromancy. “Go back to sleep,” I commanded them. “We are no threat. Return to rest.”

The Shade obeyed, their body stilling.

I found Ayla’s hand, thankful she remained warm. “Inarus is farther into the building. He’s busy managing his Shades.”

“Then there’s no time to waste.” She squeezed her fingers around mine. “We need to go.”

30 | Resurrecting Roots

Zayne

We entered the stronghold, stepping into a corridor that ran the length of the building.

Several small fireplaces were lit along the hall. Each fire seemed to cast off some of Gloom’s influence. There was no mist inside the building. My mind sharpened, becoming the clearest it had been since we first entered the fog. Inarus had created a space free from Gloom.

Multiple doorways led from here. Before, each would lead to a private room or a family apartment. Once, this hallway would have been lively. Now, it was empty.

Ayla looked from one doorway to the next, and her gaze fixed on the one to the left. “This way.”

It was the same door that the throne beckoned me toward. Down to my bones, I quivered under the sensation ofhome.

Ayla pushed against the door, finding it locked. I suspected we were now within Inarus’s shields, so I took a risk and shadow-stepped us into the room.

There, sprawled across the floor, Eleanor lay prostrate before the Shadow Throne.

A weak fire cast the room in flickering shadows, but even in the low light, I knew my twin. My heart flushed as my magic recognized her. She was the lilac of funeral flowers, mixed with the metallic tinge of blood. The scent of fingers pricked by a needle.

The Brand consumed her body, her gray skin impossibly smooth, reflecting the fireplace. Her back rose and fell, evidence of a long breath. Her body lived, but her soul was contained.

Ayla lunged forward. I stopped her.

“Slow,” I said. “Let me approach. She might impact your Brand.”

Ayla stilled and nodded. To my relief, her eyes remained bright, darting as she took in the room. I evaluated the strange situation too.

Eleanor’s fingertips reached for the Shadow Throne. A tendril of root extended from the throne, wrapping around her wrist, curling like a cuff.

In my memories, the Shadow Throne had radiated strength. It was built from the shadows of the living, complex and textured, tried and true. Its consistency filled my childhood, building my backbone.

Now the throne had been humbled.

The black wood had once been intricately carved, designs tessellating and shifting. Now it struggled to break through the floorboards, a weathered chair rising from mangled roots.

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