The wind churned, making his skin prickle in anticipation. The Prince of the Shattered Isles stepped closer. “What is that?”
“My offering.” He found the page he was looking for, the illustration of the trees bending, forming a doorway to where the mirror lay beyond. And the man bent before it. Before Marquis could react, he stood in one fluid motion, unsheathing the blade. Striking it across his forearm, the skin ripping, forming a deep gash. His blood welled and bubbled, looking a deep crimson in the fading daylight. Taking a steadying breath, he softly said, “I am here.”
The world before them exploded into movement and a brilliant array of colors. He felt the ground shudder. The forest went silent. Light fractured, spilling and washing over them as everything spun into chaos. Looking over, he took in Marquis standing in awe. Blood trickled down Adair’s arm, dripping thickly onto the ground below them, which was smooth and golden now. An archway rose, intricate carvings of the forest bowing together; at the top, two gleaming red jewels stared down at them. A thick oak door was all that stood between them and the truth. The forest was long gone, and with his shaking bloodied hand, he reached forward to grab the smooth doorknob. The handle twisted and then released, the hinges creaking loudly as the door swung inward.
Adair whispered to Marquis, “Follow me and please let me do the talking.”
For once, the prince just nodded his head, at a loss for words. Their footsteps cracked like thunder as they passed under the archway and into a cavernous room. The floor glowed brilliantly, flowing into liquid silver on the four walls around them. It was quiet and empty, this place laying between reality and dreams. Like walking into a jewel being melded and molded into shape. He pulled his jacket closer around him, slinging his pack over his shoulder. Popping his collar out of habit, his hair standing on end. Marquis had frozen by the archway, in horror or fear, Adair couldn’t tell.
His blood trailed behind him, flowing hot down his arm as he stared ahead, walking surely. A throaty laugh bounced off the walls, distorted, as smoke started to spill from the middle of the room, crawling toward them like grappling hands. It stopped right before his boots, rising like a fog.
“Adair Stratton, you dare come see me again?” The voice tolled with ancient magic, of malice, of agony, of despair.
An iron tang filled his mouth as he rasped, “I have come with my offering. Will you answer my questions?”
That chuckle reverberated throughout the fog as one by one, the golden hues started to fade, the inky blackness rippling throughout the room.
“Are you offering yourself or the Prince?”
He sneered. “The Prince has nothing to do with this.”
That throaty voice chuckled again, whispering, “Oh, I highly doubt that.”
The room was dipped into full-fledged night, like a flame being blown out. His breath hitched in his throat as he twisted, trying to spot Marquis. He felt the slight shift of the floor and before he could react, he was falling through the fog, through time and space. He squeezed his eyes shut as the world roared around him. His heart dropped into his stomach, and he tried to not scream. The wind ripped at his jacket, at his hair, at his skin. The temperature dropped, ice crystals forming on his skin, his blood. Clamping his jaw so hard, he thought his teeth would shatter. His body flipped violently, his limbs flaying. He dared to look.
Opening one eye, he soaked in the scene. The sun hung low in the sky, bleeding into a sunset. At the same time, the full moon hung beside it, the remnants of night bleeding into the light. He fell through clouds, the ground below him speeding up to meet him. Too fast. He could see the snowy tops of mountains rushing up with their granite might. His scream ripped through him as his limbs flailed, trying to stop, trying to claw back up. The fog ripped the peaceful scene away, and he was slammed into it.
Everything went dark in a sweeping instant. It was like diving into the ocean, being pulled down by the waves, your sense of self stripped from you. Hot blood filled his mouth as he bit through his tongue, as he tried to relax... as he was pulled down, slowly, shadows churning before him, whispers cutting through the fog. It was there that they were waiting for him.
“Adair, you have come, you have come.”
Trying to slow his breathing, he watched as a pulsing light exploded below him, its pale essence like a lone star in the sky, entrancing him and pulling him in. His body slammed into something solid, cracking hard against it. The night clung to the room around him, besides that sole light. With shaking limbs, he pushed himself up, standing slowly. He was in another room.
If the one they had entered was the heart of light, then this was the sealing promise of obscurity. The promise of danger heavy on the air. The coolness of the room sent shivers raking through him. Orbs of dew clung to the roots hanging from the roof, the smell of the forest after a rain filling his senses. It was both calming and unnerving. He ran his hand through his hair as he took in the creature he sought. Spindly arms hugged his legs to his chest, his papery skin looking translucent. Adair could see each pronounced rib sticking out of his sides, each vertebra in his spine. His brown hair hung loosely, framing his sharp features. But it was his silver eyes that made Adair freeze. Those eyes, holding every promise, every secret. Those mysteries that pulled him forward, whispering, “Gortach, I hope the years have treated you well.”
The starving man smiled, revealing rotting teeth as he rumbled, “You, Adair Stratton, seemingly haven’t
