Page 164 of Lady of the Drowned Empire
Rhyan placed his hand over my mouth.
“Lyr,” he hissed under his breath. “It’s a nest.”
My eyes trailed forward, and I saw piles on the floor—blankets and stacks of hay.
Up ahead on the dirty stone wall was another painting in the same style. It depicted a god wearing indigo robes with dark shadows around him. His aura. There was a cruelty in his eyes, a darkness. And an uncomfortable familiarity. He reminded me of death.
A golden crown sat on top of his head, and the seven-pointed Valalumir glittered above him.
“Lyr?” Rhyan asked, his voice shaking. “Can you see the words?”
“No, I don’t see any.” I squinted.
“It says, Moriel vaspa el bar dia. Teka el bar. Halavra el omae negrare. Teka. Teka. Maraak Moriel.”
I repeated the High Lumerian in my head, quickly working through the translation. “Moriel has returned to his body.”
Rhyan nodded. “Kneel before him. Death to all who deny. Kneel. Kneel. King Moriel.”
“He led the army before,” I said, my stomach hollow. “For months now, the akadim have been acting strange. Growing in numbers, organizing, moving south. Evolving. What if this whole time it was because their leader returned?”
I thought now of the letter. Had it been him? Moriel reincarnated? Moriel who took out my mother’s journal, left it on Ramia’s desk for me to find? Moriel who’d taken my sisters?
But who was he? Whose body had he been born into?
“We need to get out of here,” Rhyan said urgently. “Now.”
“We can’t. What if Meera’s here? Morgana?”
“Lyr,” Rhyan said again, his jaw tensed.
“No! We have to search the rest of the cave.”
Rhyan’s nostrils flared, his shoulders tensed. “Lyr.”
I shook my head. “No!”
He closed his eyes slowly. “Okay. I’ll look. Just stay here, and I’ll search for them.”
“No, I have to come, too. I need to know.” My heart was pounding.
“Lyr, please,” he begged, his voice desperate. “Please let me protect you. Let me do this.”
“But they're my sisters,” I pleaded, squeezing his hand.
His eyes shut slowly. “Stay behind me,” he ordered, squeezing my hand in return. He drew his sword and held it before him as I reached for my dagger.
We moved forward, our steps slow and careful.
“Swear,” he said under his breath. “Swear you won’t let go of my hand this time.”
“I swear.”
The cave began to wind, the walls narrowing and the ceiling lowering.
And then a growl rumbled low in the distance. The sound echoed off the walls. A sharp breeze, like breath, came through the opening we stood beneath.
There were footsteps. Loud and uneven.
