Page 100 of Legacy of the Heirs
He was not here yet, though he rarely left Soren there alone. She took a tentative step forward, the crunch of leaves echoing in the night's emptiness and the crumbling castle surrounding her. If she continued forward, she would reach the iron bars he never let her near.Is that how he enters my mind?Instead of testing her theory, she spun to take in every inch of the ivy and moss-covered walls that fell away to the night sky.
Seiko howled, and Soren frowned. Her wolves never appeared in her dreams. Tilting her head, Soren peered at whatever stood behind her usual spot. The rotting tree in the distance felt familiar, like a blemish tainting the field of long grass blowing in the imaginary breeze. A wolf howled again.
“I do not see a crown on your head, Soren.”
She jumped at the return of the silken voice, shadows stretching for her shoulders. Her usual comfort vanished as they spun her to face his shrouded form.
“I was about to kill him, but—”
“I do not care for excuses, little bird.” The shadows brushedher face, and his finger grazed the scar left behind by the creature. “What was my request?”
Soren looked down. She had disappointed him. He gripped her chin, forcing her gaze to watch the twisting darkness.
“Take the throne,” she mumbled.
“And yet, it has not happened.” Releasing her hand, he turned and retreated to the iron bars.
“But Garridon told me not to.” Soren gasped as a force hurled her backward through the air, further than she could have imagined. She smacked against the rotten tree she had seen so far in the distance, her head spinning as she reached for the ground to steady herself. Her fingers grazed over small pieces of wood, unable to distinguish their shapes, before a plume of shadows engulfed Soren and tugged her back. When the darkness receded, she was at the ruins once more.
“You listened to thatgod,” he sneered. “Over ME!” His roar was a sound to be heard across the universe. Soren winced. She had not known he loathed the gods, who possibly could?
“I cannot disobey a god,” she murmured, and a slap burned her cheek. She stared at the floor, refusing to show him the tears in her eyes.
“But you can disobey me?” he asked, and she did not respond. Silence followed and stretched between them. She had missed the lord, yet he did not seem fazed by their time apart. A scraping noise sounded from behind the iron bars, and Soren lifted her head to peer around him. A hand reached out to her again, and she flinched until the touch softened, cradling her cheek. The lord sighed beneath his cloak of darkness and retreated towards the steps leading into nothingness. He sighed again.
“Tell me what you know, Soren. What has happened in the time we have spent apart?” Soren did not move, a rebellious streak emerging within her.
“Is your name Caligh?” she asked boldly, and he chuckled.
“You have navigated close enough that they shared the contentsof the letter with you.” She did not know if he was impressed. “What did they deduce from the letter?”
Soren kicked at the blackened leaves on the floor.
“That if Kazaar is the essence of Sitara, then Elisara is made from that of Sonos,” she said, and he hummed.
“A quick deduction,” he chuckled. “Perhaps I underestimated them as a group.”
“They will not hand him over,” she said.
“I assumed as much.”
“They prepare for war.”
“Naturally.”
“They will all die.” Soren did not know if she was asking him a question.
“Perhaps.”
Soren frowned, an image of a young Sadira flashing through her consciousness. Her sister could die. Soren blinked away the image, focusing on Caligh, on her Lord of Night.
“What do you need from me?” she asked, eager to return to his good graces. “Nobody would notice if Caellum died in war; no one would know it was at my hand.”
The shadows rose from the stairs, floating back towards her.
“If I have Kazaar, I have no need for Caellum to die,” he said, and Soren stumbled.
“But that has always been the plan. We needed a true Garridon heir on the throne.”
