Bound by Darkness (Bound By Series)

25. Past Salt Breezes

Chapter 25

Past Salt Breezes

THALIA

“Shit!” My shoulder burned as I rammed into the makeshift metallic door.

It didn’t budge and I couldn’t see anything as night swallowed the surrounding atmosphere and remaining air in my lungs.

My hands gripped the ladder, my legs shaking as I pounded against the door. It did not budge.

Panic filled my blood with sparks, my ears ringing as I clung to rusted metal.

Trapped.

Trapped beneath the surface again.

My lungs tightened.

There was no faelight. No grass. No trees. No one. It smelled of musk and ash. ??Only the ringing remained, deafening my senses as I clung paralyzed.

Breathe.

I had no breath.

I needed to breathe?—

Breathe , a voice whispered.

My lungs inflated in a sputtering, coughing mess as if on command. ??I savored the feel of my lungs filling with the ashen air as it grounded me against the ladder.

I could do this.

I had to do this. I had to lower myself once again into the ground where faelight refrained from touching. How ironic for me to be gifted with shadows when I desperately avoided the dark—wanted no part of the places light curled away from.

Steadying my sweaty palms against the rungs, my foot descended until it found its next resting spot. Again and again, I climbed further into night, unaware of how deep it would lead me. My only hope was another exit at the bottom.

The click of my boots echoed against the rungs as I kept a steady pace. Further and further I went, a few beads of sweat dripping from my brow. There was no light—nothing.

My foot hit solid ground.

Stumbling off the ladder, my hands reached in front as I began to look for anything that might provide a spark of light. My fingers flitted over cold stone, the smooth edges much different from the ones I’d grown accustomed to in my cell.

My fingers as guides, I walked in the dismal corridor as I counted each step. Grounded myself to the feel of stone, my hands running over each crevice.

I wasn’t sure how long I’d walked until a sparkle of light illuminated the path. I headed toward it as light, dim and fluttering shone in front of me along the wall.

I pried the oil lamp off the rusted metal hook as I held it a few stones from my face. It illuminated rock and more oil lamps, but their flames had gone out leaving the one in my hand the last remaining light.

Turning to the right, my mouth dropped.

From top to bottom, the walls were covered in books and scrolls. My hands floated over the spines, the feeling tickling my fingertips as I glanced around the room. Every wall was filled with books, a few housing ornate globes and trinkets I did not recognize.

Peering onto the shelves, a few were made of silver, their work detailed and impressive. My father would have loved to see these relics of Cethales. He would have known the name of them too, his love of learning a passion no one would ever quell.

Walking to the far back corner, wind tickled my face slightly. I nearly cried at the occurrence. If there was wind, there had to be another exit at the end?—

A tunnel, narrow and long illuminated from the oil lamp. Peering inside its expanse of space, I blew out a breath. Again, I’d have to venture into the dark. At least it wouldn’t happen for a while.

Leaving the tunnel behind, I dropped the oil lamp onto a nearby table. My hands grazed the spines again as a bit of dust floated to the floor.

I removed book after book from the shelves, stacking them onto the table where the lamp rested. It only had a few hours of light remaining, so I needed to work quickly.

If any book sounded remotely promising, I placed it upon the stack as I listened to the echoes of my work against stone. It was frightening to hear that sound once more—the sound so much like my cell, but I kept my fingers busy and my head attuned to the task at hand.

After piling a courteous stack of fifteen books, I settled into a wobbly chair as I took the first one from the top. It was coated in a layer of dust as I ran my fingers over the cover. Flipping through the pages, name after name was scribbled onto yellowed-parchment. It was nothing more than a boring accounting book, and a chuckle left my lips. Indeed, a Fae prick had mostly likely written this .

I shoved it to the side as I grabbed another, wishing Ivan was here to keep me company. He’d be the only person to make this fun—his humor something I’d welcome as I grabbed another.

And another.

And another.

After the tenth book, my eyes blurred from peering at scribbles in the dimming light. I wasn’t sure exactly how long I’d been down here, but as pain radiated up my spine from being hunched over, I knew it had to have been awhile. How did Fin sit in his chair and read like this all day?

Stretching my body like a feral cat, I huffed as I slapped another book in front of the light, my fingers coated in a layer of filth. It felt like I was back at Fin’s, dust coating my lungs and nose.

Turning the page, my eyes widened at the inscriptions pressed into the worn fabric. The Old Fae language.

Finally.

This book was illegal. More illegal than a half-breed hiding from the King.

Adjusting the oil lamp, it brightened the glyphs scribbled onto the page, as well as various illustrations. They were stunning and highly detailed, showcasing years of Fae history.

Flipping through the pages, my hand paused as I scanned the page. My eyes stopped on a shadowy figure hurriedly scribbled between glyphs.

My blood chilled.

The figure was holding a blood stone.

Unmistakable, the stone seemed to pulse in its hand as if it were made for it. Chills raced up my arms as I stared at the figure, at the words etched next to it.

Why did this Fae god have one? Was this… was this the origin of shadow casting? Was this the Fae god who’d died to relinquish this power? And what of the blood stone? Is that why the witch said the fae gods chose it for me?

Light flickered.

The flame was dying and I’d finally found the answers I needed. If this was a cruel joke from the gods, I wanted to spit in their faces. “Please forgive me,” I muttered as I ripped the image of the figure, along with a few other pages I’d found with the same name scribbled in the common tongue.

Arawanee—the Fae god of shadows.

Stuffing the pages into my pockets, I picked up the oil lamp as I headed toward the back. This was my only chance at an exit, and as the wind whipped my hair again, I walked.

The tunnel was narrow as I kept a steady pace, my feet brushing over crumbling rock. The light was flickering every few seconds, and I did not want to be stuck down here without a flame.

Lifting the oil lamp, I nearly cried as it illuminated a rusted door. It was similar to the one that had shut me in. Hope grew like a seed as I headed for the rusted metal. My feet kicked up speed as the flame flickered?—

It dissipated, leaving me enveloped in darkness. The same type as that cell I’d rotted in for eleven years.

“I’m not in my cell. I’m not in my cell,” I whispered as I walked forward, feeling for the rusted handle. “You got out. The door?—”

My eyes continued to blink in the darkness as if light would return. My hand shifted lower, a small sound leaving my lips as I gripped metal.

I yanked it to the ground below as roaring filled my ears.

The door groaned as night kissed my skin. Stepping out from the tunnel, glistening cave walls met me as I followed its stone forward. Walking until grass kissed the soles of my boots, I stared up at the sky—at the starlit night covering Laias.

Standing at the gate, I tugged the sleeves of my shirt down, the breeze filling the air with a salty tang.

He wasn’t here.

I wouldn’t be surprised if he’d come and gone. I’d arrived well past sunset, the stars a constant reminder of how late I’d shown and yet, I stood here waiting for him. My teeth bit into the skin of my fingertips as my heart raced at the thought of seeing him.

A few sprites danced in the background, their effervescent color stark around the wilting leaves. Soon fall would be in full effect, bringing chill into the air.

The sea breeze clung around me, maintaining the ice on my arms as I tried rubbing it away. Was I this delusional? Enough to stand out here in the frigid cold for a Fae?—

“You’re still here.”

My eyes snapped to his voice, a wicker basket in hand as he stepped around broken pieces of metal. The basket reminded me of the first time I’d met him in Gwen’s garden, toiling away as the sun cast rays across his sweaty brow.

“Sorry I’m late,” he muttered. “Chiron needed to talk to me.”

I hadn’t missed our meeting. A breath left my lips. “I just got here from the library too.”

His brow rose. “Now? You left in the afternoon.”

I grimaced. “Time went by quickly.” I wasn’t sure if I should tell him about the door I’d found leading to the underground library. Something told me that was off limits—a place I wasn’t supposed to have discovered.

“Did you find anything?”

I shook my head, guilt bubbling like acid in my stomach. “No.”

“Then we’ll keep looking,” he said with a small smile, the corners weighed down. “Somewhere has to have the answers you are seeking.”

I sent a nod his way, the papers crinkling as I shifted, the weight of what I kept hidden tearing me alive.

Clearing his throat, he pointed to the cliffside. “Come on. I want to show you something.”

“What is it?” I asked, shoving guilt away for a later time.

He grinned. “Follow me, unless you’d rather wait here by the gate.” His eyes raked over me, as if searching beneath the exterior I often held.

“Just walk,” I frowned as that stupid grin widened. Biting back the urge to tease him, I followed after as curiosity bit me. A few daises danced in the wind as he led the way, the basket swaying gently in the breeze.

It was hard to keep up with him, fatigue sticking to me from the descent into the library and hours of flipping through the tiniest writing I’d ever seen. When I thought my body was finally about to give my secret away, he stopped.

“Here.” He gestured toward an empty patch, placing the wicker basket between us as he pointed to the cliffs.

“What’s—” The words died on my tongue as I stared into the expanse of sea, waves crashing against rocky terrain. The sea breeze whispered its greeting as the moon illuminated a feeling I’d forgotten.

The sea was well below the cliffside, but I could see it, hear it, taste the salt on my lips as I stared into the unobstructed view. Wetness lingered on my eyelashes as I stared at an everlasting reminder of home.

Warmth clung to my shoulders as a blanket wrapped around them, the frayed edges tickling my hands.

“Beautiful,” he whispered, my trance immediately lifting as I looked at him.

His smile was wide, that imperfect dimple shining against the moon’s light. It faltered for a second, his hands rubbing the base of his neck. “T—the sea, I mean,” he stuttered.

I chewed the inside of my cheek as I glanced at him, his eyes refusing to meet mine. Surely he didn’t mean me? The sea—obviously he meant the sea.

His shoulders squared as he gestured to the scene before us, his throat clearing. “You enjoy nature, don’t you?” His eyes locked onto the frothing waves below. “At Gwen’s, I noticed you glancing outside often.”

“It was that obvious?” I pressed the blanket closer as my eyes closed, breathing in the air around me. I had missed the sea, my home a few minutes from the ports of Armas. I missed the feeling of water—of them.

Yeva would have loved it here between the daises and sprites dancing between the blades of grass. Yeva?—

A hot, vivid memory sliced through me. How had I forgotten?

“You.”

Ivan shifted, his eyes narrowing. “Me?”

“You,” I repeated, my eyes meeting his. “You said her name. You said my sister’s name in the forest.”

He swallowed, his lips parting as he spoke faintly, “I did.”

“How do you know so much about me when I know nothing about you?”

He scratched his head as a puff of air clouded around him. Only the stars and occasional sprite lighted the grassy expanse.

“The records mentioned your family, too. I knew her name from there, scribbled among the parchment.”

“That’s personal information.”

“I know. I shouldn’t have looked, but I was interested in you. In your story.”

“I’m starting to hate that word,” I muttered. “My story isn’t interesting . I lost my entire family in one night because of King Hywell… because of Armas yet it’s been reduced to a mere few sentences.”

I missed them more than anything. I missed their laughter. I missed how my sister and I would sneak out of the house to the ocean while my mother frantically searched for her missing daughters.

“Tell me more,” he said softly after a pause. “Tell me who they were, what they believed in, what they looked liked. Tell me so their memories might live on in someone else.”

It shouldn’t have dispersed my frustration so quickly, but it did as I opened my mouth and told him of a time before the prison—of my fondest memories.

I told him how I’d discovered my family dead that night, their corpses rotting in the bedroom. I told him how I’d fled and how my casting ability exploded as guards tracked me. I told him my family had been discovered because they had been hiding me.

He listened through it all, his chin dipping in nods occasionally as I told the story of my past.

My mouth grew dry as I talked, shed tears, and reminisced about a painted life filled with vibrant colors until they turned dull. Somehow I’d wound up sitting next to him, the edges tickling my nose as I hugged the blanket to my neck.

“They sounded wonderful,” he stated after a few moments of silence. “Except for your mother.”

I scoffed. “That’s the most accurate thing you’ve ever said.” My vision blurred as I remembered years of torment. Years of suffering her abuse while my father was absent. It’s why I hated it when he left, because the hitting and the chains would unveil themselves.

It’s why I hated chains, because she stuffed me into them each night my father was absent to keep her safe. To keep others from discovering a caster lived among them—a cursed caster unlike my sister.

He chuckled, his eyes hazy and thick. “Was she always like that?”

I shook my head as the memories dissipated to black. “No,” I added. “No. It wasn’t until she found out about my casting she declined. I was the spawn of curses, so she shielded me from the world in fear of her life. If not for my father, I would have been chained to my bed forever.”

My fingers grazed over my wrists at the faint lines slowly fading with time. Sometimes, it still lingered. A phantom ghost dragging me to the ground.

I blinked as I loosened my grip around my wrists, my knuckles white. “Anyways,” I muttered, brushing the concern in his eyes away. “She preferred Yeva to me. They were two peas in a pod. Wherever mother lingered, Yeva followed suit unless she defied her orders to hang out with me.”

“You must have been close.”

My heart grieved at the statement, my eyes growing wet. “Yes,” I choked. “Even if mother disapproved, we were together when we could be. Sneaking out until dawn, exploring vacant shorelines, or exploring the nearby forest.”

“What about your father?” he asked. “Did he disapprove of the two of you being together?”

“Oh no,” I said abruptly. “Father did everything he could to keep us together, but as I said, he wasn’t around much. He traveled a lot. A merchant making a living based on the valuable items he collected from various cities.”

A smile crept across my face at the stories and merchandise he would spread onto the kitchen counter. “For a human, he’d explored and seen more than most Fae would in their entire existence. A true free spirit.”

“Did he ever travel back home to the Mainland?”

“No. He ran away from home and said he refused to return because nothing waited for him there.”

Ivan’s eyes softened as if replaying a memory in his mind. “I know that feeling.”

I bit my lip as my legs curled to my chest. “Tell me more. About you. About your past.”

“There’s not much to tell. You’d find it hauntingly boring.”

“Please.” My head turned to the side, my eyes narrowing softly as I leaned into the air between us, my heart steady and my mind quiet. Always quiet around him.

He ran a scarred hand down his face as he scratched the stubble forming along his jawline. I did not think he would speak, but he cleared his throat after a few minutes.

“I ran away from home after being beaten by my father. It wasn’t the first time, but that day, I’d decided to make it the last time he’d ever strike my hands with leather reins. He was… ruthless,” he continued.

“There’s not a bone of mercy in his body. It made him a fearless leader, but also a leader most people tended to avoid. It caused a lot of tension where he worked. However, my mother’s kindness knew no boundaries. Once, I found her stitching together a bird that had collapsed in the garden, its wing crushed. She had worked on its wing for days, only for my father to crush the sickly bird as a cruel lesson. A lesson for her, but also for me.”

Ivan’s face grew grim under the blinking stars. “Still, she found ways to keep her kindness under his tyranny. Two of them you know well.”

My eyes flicked to his sides. “The swords.”

He smiled slightly. “Yes. A promise and a prayer to her son that I would not turn out like my cruel father.” He paused as his gaze flicked to the stars above. “When my father found the blades, he’d struck my mother. The first time I’d ever seen him strike her. I’ll always remember seeing her fly across the room. How her small frame collided into the dresser with a force no man should command.”

His fingers curled at his sides. “I stood before him, and because of my defiance, my father struck her, not me. I had caused her more suffering. From that moment, my mother decayed. She always harbored sickness, but she lost the will to fight once it happened. She ultimately gave up in the end.” Ivan’s lips pursed together. “A lovely family, isn’t it?”

I wasn’t sure what to say or if I could say anything. His story… his story was similar to mine. “I’m sorry.” It fell flat as it left my lips. I wasn’t sure how to console another person, let alone him.

Ivan laughed, a dimple forming on his left cheek. “I found something else you suck at.”

“Gods, you’re insufferable,” I muttered as my eyes scanned the endless sky. This view of the stars was everything as they twinkled back in response with the ocean’s melody.

“You know,” Ivan drawled, his fingers twirling a blade of grass, “the gods forgot their place.”

“Ivan,” I said, but he silenced me with a look, his eyes swimming with mirth.

“The gods forgot their place when they forged you from their creation.”

My cheeks heated. “Stop being stupid.”

He shook his head. “I’m not. Your casting is proof enough. The records did little to capture the sheer amount you possess, let alone the vast amount of space you can cover.”

“Did you forget I can’t control it? I nearly lost my life in the forest.”

“With training, you’d be able to wield it.”

“I don’t want to wield it. I don’t want this ability at all.”

“What happens if you release it again? What happens if you can’t come back? I can’t—” Ivan went silent, his eyes glued to the shimmering above.

“You can’t what?”

“I can’t—” The words seemed to falter as his hands pressed into the grass.

“You can’t what?” I said a bit softer, my eyes finding his.

“I can’t do this without you. I’m not… I mean—” He stopped. “I don’t have allies, not in the manner you’ve done. Already, you’ve befriended Fin. Let alone winning the heart of the entire med tent.”

“It’s called talking,” I mocked, but Ivan didn’t chuckle. There was no spark as he turned to peer at me.

“You understand these people, their hardships and worries. I’ve never been able to do that. I spend much of my time trying to fix Cethales alone—to give these people a better life, but every time I mess up. I even failed with the rebels and… and protecting you,” he whispered.

It was as if he was describing an entirely different life, but that wasn’t accurate. He’d endured the same, if not more than these people. “That’s not true,” I blurted, inching a bit closer. “What of you and Gwen? You understood her aching heart when Isaiash died, did you not?”

He stayed silent.

“What of your mother? What of your father? You dealt with that torture for years until you finally ran away.” My eyes caught his. “You don’t need me. Not in the way you think. You’re not a failure, especially to the people who need you the most.” I bit my lip. “Now putting that cot together in the tent? You definitely failed at that.”

A chuckle drifted from the breeze, calming the ache in my heart I hadn’t realized was there.

“You’re sounding a lot like Gwen.” A smile lit his face. “It’s quite unsettling to hear the words she’s screamed at me for years to also come from you.”

“What can I say? She’s quite impressive and correct.”

“Meaning you’re correct? ”

Heat crept into my neck as he inched closer, a hand reaching to brush away a few strands of grass stuck to the ends of my hair.

“Thank you, half-breed.” His hand brushed against my shoulder as he pulled away, needles pricking my skin at the feathery touch.

“Thalia,” I corrected, my hands gripping the blanket tighter to stall my heart from rupturing. “My name’s Thalia. Not half-breed.”

His eyes glimmered, a spark returning to his face. “Thank you then, Thalia ,” he whispered, my name covered in honey as it left his lips.

I swallowed, hoping the blanket covered the emotions swirling on my face from hearing him speak my name. These reactions were different from anything I’d experienced and I wasn’t sure what to make of it.

All I knew was I cared for him... that I enjoyed this . Enjoyed when it was the two of us. Enjoyed feeling comfortable—happy. A weird feeling I couldn’t pinpoint as knots slowly unbound themselves from my heart.

“Come on,” he said as he stood. A hand reached down to mine. “We should head back before the cold settles in even more.”

Taking his hand, I gave a nod, my fingers interlocking with his. They might have lingered in his until the grass turned to gravel, the crushed gate appearing once more.

Even if I never told him, he’d healed a part of my heart tonight I thought was broken forever.