Brokk couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t move.
He was staring right at himself.
Golden eyes to golden eyes, the likeliness was uncanny. The Oilean erupted in a fit of laughter, admiring their job. Their leader stepped forward once again, kneeling in front of him.
He hadn’t realized a steady stream of tears ran down his bruised face this entire time until a skeletal hand of one of the Oilean brushed against his cheek, wiping them away.
“The one thing we forgot to mention is that you, yourself, will not be leaving here. Ever. Your doppelganger over there has a much better understanding of our needs. Anyone who gets in his way will be killed.” It shrugged. “Emory and you cannot live, which will become clear in time. How do we demolish this monarch and the rebellion while still harnessing our power? Destroy the kings and queens that started it all.”
Every hope he had been clinging on to was whisked away in that moment. His head hung heavy against his chest, his hate for Nyx, for the Oilean, for Roque, for his mother, for this rebellion grew into a cold numbness that overtook every thought and feeling in his body.
They whispered something to his doppelganger and, nodding his head once, one of the Oilean pressed on the wall - a door appeared, and he left.
“Make sure he is well nourished sisters; we are far from done yet.”
He begged his body to pass out in order to grant him some blissful nothingness as they enclosed on him. Unfortunately, he never did have much luck. His screams were never heard, lost in the coldness beneath the ground.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Emory
The pounding of her feet echoed deep within the tunnel. Her hair came undone around her as she plummeted down the dimly lit hallway. She could hear heckles and yells of the soldiers behind her.
They were catching up.
She didn’t know how long she had stood on that step, paralyzed with fear. Hoping that Memphis would come back. That someone would come back. Adair’s soldiers were smarter than they looked to have found her hiding place. Or they tortured Memphis until he showed them.
She couldn’t think like that. She had to hope Memphis and the others made it out.
Her lungs brought her back to reality, screaming for her to stop.
Pushing harder, a thousand scenarios ran through her mind, but Memphis’s voice kept her going.
Find Brokk. Don’t get caught.
Her plan could wait.
It felt like a lifetime, but finally, the hard ground started sloping upward. She was almost there. Another twenty gruelling steps and a small door came into view; she could have cried from relief. Clutching her ripped dress, she raced forward. Panicking, she shoved the door with her shoulder, trying to barrel through. It wouldn’t budge. Her hands felt the creases for some sort of door handle or latch—and found nothing. She was trapped.
She screamed in frustration, “No! Come on!”
She could hear the approaching grunts and complaints of the soldiers. At least she had given them a run for their money. Emory continued to slam her body against the damp wood, and slowly, cracks of light started to dapple her skin. She wasn’t fast enough.
“Well, well, well. Boys, it would seem we have finally caught our prize.”
She faced two soldiers; they were clad in black and looked like brothers, their brown hair buzzed short, red sashes splayed across their chest. Nothing scared her more than the dead expressions in their eyes. She would not let them take her.
The last month rushed up fiercely within her. She had never gotten the privilege to grow old with her parents, but she would without a doubt protect their dream. Which was this world—her world.
She felt the energy surge to the palms of her hands, making her fingers tingle. She balled them into fists.
“Oh-ho. Look here. Do we have another fighter? Your blond boyfriend gave us a good go.”
Stepping toward her and flicking his wrist, flame twisted around his arm and hand. His friend laughed wickedly.
“Now, we are on very strict orders not to hurt you, but if it was instigated on your end, I’m sure our king would see reason. Besides, he is planning on...”
Charging forward with full force, keeping her body low, she slammed her elbow deep in his gut, making him buckle for a second. And a second was all she needed.
Grabbing his wrist tight, her world turned into fire and ash. Pure power flowed through her, and she acted. Shouting, the two guards stumbled back as the fire now roared from her free palm, daring them to come closer. Taken by surprise, the guard screamed against her hold and lunged down to her arm, baring his teeth.
No.
Twisting, she sent a fireball hurtling toward the door and, letting him go, hurled herself forward. She was met with a makeshift ladder about five feet tall. She lunged up and climbed. She heard them yelling and start climbing after her. She couldn’t look back.
Faster. Her limbs felt disconnected from her body, and she screamed in frustration when she fumbled for the next rung.
The soldiers yelled too close behind her, “Get her now!”
No. No.
She had maybe another ten rungs to go before land connected, and she spilled onto the grass. She was almost there...
A cold hand grabbed her ankle and pulled. Hard. She was filled with horrendous electric shocks for a second before her body absorbed the power. The current washed over her, and she felt her hands leave the ladder, gravity working against her body, causing her to free fall back toward the guards.
In a split second, she stopped falling, and Emory felt swirling air tickle her back, arms, calves. She was suspended in the air, floating. Gasping,
“What the...?”
The guard’s confusion matched her own. Suddenly her body lurched forward, Emory, bewildered, shot up from the tunnel. Spinning, she landed hard on the grass, and she stayed there—her limbs shaking.
An impatient male voice snapped
