Law of beasts, p.24
Law of Beasts, page 24
With a final, indifferent glance at the splintered chaos below, Elio turned and leapt down into chasm.
The air in the council chamber was thick with smoke and tension. Incense burned low in the bronze braziers, curling into the vaulted air and easing the creased brows of the people at the council. The council room at the Imperial Palace of Nephel was second to none.
Soaring archways curved like the necks of slumbering drakes, each one crafted from moon-white stone edged precisely with gold. High above, the ceiling formed a dome punctuated by a stained-glass skylight, its geometric patterns casting shafts of brightly coloured light down onto the centre of the room. There, a massive marble statue dominated the space—a woman whose face had been covered by a crown of six horns, standing with her dragon wings fully spread and her hands resting on a large sword embedded in the marble. Around the perimeter of the room, banners of deep purple hung from each column, each one bearing the insignia of Nephel's noble houses of fifth rank and above. The floor was a disc of polished obsidian inlaid with a dragon's eye at its centre. When the commanders sat in their places around the impossibly large round table, they completed the eye's iris.
"We should strike now whilst she's yet to officially form her own beast city!" barked Commander Tian. Her crimson robes swirled as she slammed a fist against the low stone table. "The human has a scroll presumably made by Leon himself. Leon! You all know exactly why that man was considered the only enemy of the throne. What's worse is she's destroying Serenity Pools, the one in the Underworld is gone. What more proof do you need that she intends war? How do we know she hasn't used those pools before destroying them?"
"She is one girl," muttered Commander Salvator, with an exasperated sigh. Her eyes glinted like polished obsidian. "A dangerous one, but a girl nonetheless."
"A girl who dismantled the underworld and completely crippled our current armour production process," snapped Tian. "Do not tell me that was child's play."
At the head of the chamber, above the coiled dragon insignia carved into the black jade floor, Princess Drucilla reclined. Small in stature, dark-haired and unimpressed, she picked lazily at the edge of her lacquered throne, lips curled with disinterest.
"I'm bored," she said, cutting across the latest tirade. "All this yelling. All this screeching. You'd think we dragons were chickens."
Silence fell heavily.
Drucilla looked up, her eyes disarming the heightened emotions of her commanders. "The alliance with Nerissa will not be expedited."
Tian looked startled. "With respect, Your Highness, the marriage—"
"The marriage is political." She cracked her neck. "Do you think I care if my husband is a Mer prince or a mud lizard? So long as he strengthens our trade and gets in line. Expediting the alliance will only show our weakness—we do not come running simply because a human girl calls us. Caelestis will be judged publicly on the eclipse, and no one, I mean no one, will dare to hinder us." She scoffed at her ministers. "Stop squabbling about the silk. We simply need to reinforce our other pillars and find another Arachne civilisation to trade with. Hadassah alone cannot destroy our great Empire of Nephel."
Murmurs rose.
The great obsidian doors creaked open. The room turned to see who had arrived.
Vortigern stepped in.
She was not as pristine as usual. Her silver armour was scuffed, her plaited hair wild with wind and ash, and though she stood tall, her face was pale and drawn, clearly unwell.
Everyone watched, unsure of what to say. Should they bow? After all, she was a princess, but she was inherently a rabbit. How could a dragon bow to a rabbit?
Drucilla did not seem to care, speaking as if the insults simply rolled off her skin.
"Ah, commanders, Princess," she said with a surprisingly bright voice, not bothering to bow. "I bring news."
Drucilla raised an eyebrow. "You look like death."
"Then you should listen carefully," Vortigern said with a sharp grin. "Hadassah has dismantled the Arachne network in the underworld. That much I assume you all know, considering this council meeting. I have reason to believe she plans to intercept the Nerissa alliance—possibly save the Mer prince before we can make an example of him."
"She wouldn't dare," Tian exclaimed.
"Want to wait and find out?" Vortigern replied with a shrill laugh. "She's toppling pillars of Nephel as we speak."
Drucilla snorted. "So what, you want me to go and chase her around the continent?"
"I have an easy solution," Vortigern said, amused. "I plan to find and kill her myself. I simply need Nephel's cooperation."
"I don't trust you," Drucilla said flatly.
"Then send Kaladin," Vortigern offered coolly.
That changed the air in the room. The commanders stilled.
Drucilla was quiet. Her fingers tapped her knee in a slow, thoughtful rhythm.
Kaladin?
Everyone knew he was under judgement, but the current situation was a grave concern. If Caelestis was saved, the continent would fall into chaos. The best scenario would be to send one of the three heads of Cerberus after the human girl, but they only answered to the Queen directly, and no one dared involve the Queen.
Drucilla glanced at Vortigern. She couldn't describe what she felt about her as hate—they were on the same side now, and her position as crown princess was infallible. She lost nothing by giving the rabbit girl some face.
Drucilla made her announcement. "Release the General."
Kaladin opened his eyes in the dark.
His head was so stiff, his bones begged him to move, but he couldn't—his throat was still pinned to the wall by metal. Even if he wanted to speak, he couldn't; the pain that wracked his body was deafening. His only escape was his memories, but at times even that was not enough. Eventually, memories faded; inevitably, he would be forced back to reality.
"Kaladin." Vortigern's voice mixed with Hadassah's.
In his mind, he saw the human girl's delighted face as they danced under moonlight. Her voice was all he could hear some nights, calling his name over and over. He had to wonder if he had made the right decision, though he knew there was no decision to make.
He had killed Leon. She found out. There was no hidden side to the story, he had ended his own teacher's life.
Kaladin, the Blasphemer.
If he could, he would laugh at his own misery. That title suited him beautifully: the one who betrayed the Great Queen of Emeris, the one who traded blows with the Generals that had once raised him, the one who sabotaged and brought down the Princess of Veres.
By his hands, humanity was destroyed.
His very being was indeed a work of blasphemy.
No matter how many times he had tried, he could not die. No matter how much he wanted to lose, he could not afford to. No matter how much he wanted freedom, there was no such luxury.
'I wonder, if you saw the pathetic man I have become, would you, too, weep?'
Regret built up in his throat like bile, but he tried to swallow it. There was no point in feeling such regret; there was no way for him to have known. Besides, it was too late. His sins would need to be paid in blood.
His misery was interrupted by the arrival of someone he didn't want to meet.
"Kaladin," a girl's voice said, hoping to draw his attention.
A slow croak left his lips after a few beats of rest. It made no words, his voice box still mangled in his throat.
"Queen Mother has a mission for you," she said, not waiting for him to answer. "This is the last time you make such a mistake like that. You serve one master; never forget that." That cold, ruthless voice made him want to laugh. Yes, he served the Dragon Queen. What choice was he given?
'Am I asking too much from you?' he wondered, or perhaps he pleaded. The question was directed to the woman who lived in every corner of his mind—the one who had willingly given him her hand, over and over, the one who dared to trust him, the one he dared not love. He would have spent a thousand lifetimes chasing the memory of that touch if it meant sparing her the tears caused by his own selfishness, but there was no such thing. This would be the end. 'If not you, he thought bitterly, there is no one else. There will never be anyone else.'
If she couldn't kill him—
He dared not think of that scenario.
Atlas was being reconstructed steadily. From his balcony high above the bustling construction, the Great Kesmes—Cain—watched the progress with quiet satisfaction. His white robes billowed gently in the warm breeze, a stark contrast to his black hair and tanned skin. Below, workers moved like industrious ants, rebuilding what had been torn down, restoring the great city to its former glory.
The sound of someone lazily munching echoed from the room behind him.
"You know," came a playful voice, muffled slightly by food, "after everything I've been through—and I do mean everything—you'd think I'd deserve a proper welcome. Maybe a feast."
Cain didn't turn around, though his lips twitched with the ghost of a smile. "Did you find him?"
The munching paused. When the voice returned, it carried a different quality. "Of course I did."
Behind him, Asier lounged on an ornate couch, is white locs spilled over the armrest as he reclined, popping another grape into his mouth. When he grinned, his green eyes flashed with an inner light that flickered between emerald and gold. The dimples on his cheeks and his astounding beauty made his heritage known to anyone who glanced at him.
"You doubted me?" Asier asked, feigning hurt. "I'm wounded, truly."
Cain finally turned, raising an eyebrow at the casual display. But his attention was drawn to the shadows at the far end of the room, where darkness seemed to pool despite the afternoon light streaming through the windows.
A man stood there, arms crossed, leaning against the wall, he was perfectly still—so still that one might have mistaken him for a statue. Then his eyes opened.
Black irises surrounded pupils of molten gold, and they fixed on Cain with an intensity that could have melted steel.
When he spoke, his voice was impossibly heavy and echoed in the ears of everyone in that room.
"Where is she?" The question was directed at Cain. "Where is Hadassah?"
Chapter 20
Caelestis stared solemnly through the translucent dome before him, his pale blue eyes distant, expression unreadable as the great fin whale drifted past. Its massive body moved with an almost imperceptible grace. Every time it opened its mouth, a trail of silver bubbles emerged, rushing towards the surface, quickly escaping from sight. Its long tail fin curved like the wings of a seer, the tip dragging through currents lit by the sea-glass units around them. They were too deep for sunlight to reach from the world above.
Once the whale vanished into the distant blue, the cityscape below revealed itself fully. A grand metropolis of aquamarine and silver, nestled deep between towering rock spires draped in coral and sea ferns. The largest sea-glass structures were carved directly into the seabed's stone. Iridescent shellwork wrapped around columns like vines, twisting upward towards glowing glass domes.
Each dome housed the wealthy and the powerful. From this vantage point, Caelestis could see into many of them—lounge spaces with sculpted coral furniture, glimmering bubble chandeliers floating overhead. Schools of decorative fish swam lazily between levels, and sea dragons carved from sapphire stone stood guard at the base of elevated pillars, their scaled bodies wrapped protectively around the foundations of the main palace.
Further in the distance, he could see the statue of the late Queen Mother rising from the sea floor, towering even above the palace structures. She held a trident aloft and a shield at her side, her face carved from moonstone, her hair made of pearls. Light poured down from above at her location and her location alone, filtering through the swirling ocean and illuminating her, setting her above her citizens. Fish swam around her like a living halo. This was the heart of the Sea Kingdom, Nerissa. Its beauty was timeless, but to Caelestis, it all felt like a smothering cage.
His hand rested against the glass. His love for his country, though challenged, had only grown. But soon enough, he would never be able to see this beautiful city again. He was always a commodity—that he was aware of—but he had hoped.
His legs were weighed down by two gold bands. The bands themselves were light, but standing there with the knowledge of his imprisonment, he couldn't help but feel his shackles were impossibly heavy. From the depths of his mind, a thought surfaced: 'If you saw me, would you laugh?' He wondered if she would cry or if she would simply point at his pitiful appearance and collapse with giggles.
Either one was fine.
He had not realised until his defeat that despite cautioning her on the dangers of humans, he himself had been cursed. But whom could he blame if not his own heart?
"The solar eclipse is fast approaching."
Caelestis turned to the polite voice—one that had been tempered through years of training, one he recognised instantly. The figure approached him, hand on a gold trident that looked just a bit too large for him. He was the same height as Caelestis and of the same lean, muscular build, and yet he seemed inexplicably young by comparison.
"I hope you are enjoying your last days here. After this spring, you might never see Nerissa again."
Turning back to the city below him, Caelestis remained quiet. Of all his direct brothers, this one in particular he had least expected to alert the Dragon Queen of the civil war behind his back. Because of him, that woman had sent Kaladin. Because of this brother of his, he had broken free from his fate as a mere consort to the Dragon Princess but would now be executed publicly for the continent to see for regicide.
The gold bands on his feet had prevented him from transforming, so even if he wished to swim, he would only drown.
For the sake of being the perfect gift to bridge the gap between the sky and sea, he had been pampered and bred to be intoxicating. Long, pale lashes, even paler hair, eyes as blue as ice, and skin as beautiful as jade. He learnt to dance, he learnt to sing, he learnt to compel—he learnt it all. His fingers were smooth; he was never allowed to develop calluses. If not for that bracelet, how would he have managed?
Truly, Hadassah had given him the key to his freedom, and still he had failed. How shameful.
"What would the Queen Mother say?" Caelestis asked coldly.
His brother merely smiled wider, his long red hair nearly touching the floor, decorated with strings of pearls in the shape of tears that also wrapped around his head and open torso.
"Even when we were young and the Queen Mother was alive, she did not care for such trivial matters."
Caelestis's lips curled downwards. Since he was born, he had never seen the Queen Mother, and yet her statue had been erected in the centre of Nerissa. He supposed that was what his mother looked like.
He scoffed, finding it ironic that he, of all people, considered his brother a traitor for bowing to the Dragon Queen, as though Caelestis himself hadn't committed regicide.
Killing one's parent was a sin punishable by death, but his value as an example was more important, and so until this day, not even a lash had kissed his soft skin. He was an item that did not belong to them to punish. After he was handed over to the Imperial family of Nephel, the dragons would punish him as they wished.
The moment his brother left, a guard arrived—one Caelestis had grown familiar with.
His face was always hidden behind a plain silver helmet, but every day at the same time, without fail, the guard delivered his meal. He had become Caelestis's only thread of hope.
"Three months," he whispered, almost to himself. "He said after spring."
"You must think me pathetic—afraid of death. I know my future isn't mine to hold. I know that. But still—!" His voice rose with frustration before he caught himself. His lips quivered. Sighing, he looked down. "Am I a fool? Are my dreams unreasonable?"
The guard looked up.
Their eyes met—dark, unreadable eyes assessing the young prince. The horns on his head catching the light from the ocean beyond.
"No," the guard said plainly.
A strange lightness bloomed in Caelestis's chest. He had often wondered if his yearning for freedom made him wrong. Ungrateful. Childish. What use did someone like him—cloaked in luxury—have dreaming of escape?
"Do you think waiting for her is foolish?" he asked.
The guard didn't answer, and Caelestis realised, belatedly, that he might not even know who 'her' referred to.
"Never mind," he murmured, his voice softening.
It was too much to expect understanding. His path was his alone to walk. No one else needed to understand the promise that haunted him—the vow he'd made to the orphan girl he once rescued. Would such a dream ever come true?
Had she heard of his rebellion?
Had she come to detest him?
The thought gripped him with dread. The rumours must have beaten his name to the ground, but then her voice echoed in his memory:
'I promise, I'll go with you, no matter what sins you've committed.'
Words said on a whim.
Did he dare believe them?
Was trust really so simple?
After all, he had broken their promise first. He would never be able to go and find her again.
Lyra, the second princess of the Fox Spirit tribe, smirked as she walked through the impossibly large hallways.
"You haven't lived if you haven't seen the Hanging Gardens of Babylon."
Neveah followed behind her, her veil carried slightly by the breeze. The beautiful scent of myrrh comforted her. The heat here was something she wasn't used to, but luckily, they had prepared a new set of clothes for her stay in Babylon.
Despite the large rectangular columns that held the palace up from its foundations, there was surprisingly little shade in the outer corridors.
Neveah glanced downwards. They walked dangerously close to the edge, and there were no railings; one wrong foot and the unfortunate soul would tumble down the multiple levels of the palace into the mass of civilisation below. The chances they would survive were close to none, but it did not bother Neveah, considering her wings.
