One my sleeves got caught on a tree trunk submerged under the water, its upper half rising to the surface. I latched on to a branch and ripped it away.

  I used the trunk to climb my way out the water, relieved to see the tree was close to shore. But fear struck me again. Ava’s terrifying screams joined the thundering sound of the current. A Shadow Spirit held her while crawling up the rock formation beside the river.

  I let go of the tree, and fought against the current until reaching the shore. I dragged myself out of the water onto the snow, coughing while struggling to breathe. The cold air on my skin felt like blades stabbing my body. The tips of my fingers were blue, my breath smoke. Ahead of me was nothing but trees and ice.

  A pain-filled scream echoed. It was Ava.

  “No, no, no,” I mumbled, rising to my feet, muscles aching.

  Another scream.

  “Ava!” The taste of blood spread in my mouth. “Ava!”

  A loud explosion resounded. Smoke billowed from the forest, spreading in the air. I followed the sight, jumping over rock and branch until spotting Ava standing beside an elf. His silver hair was tied into a tail, a scowl on his face. His purple eyes shifted to me.

  “Enzo!” She ran and threw her arms around me.

  “I thought you were gone.” I squeezed her, body trembling.

  “I was so scared,” she said behind whimpers, a cut on her right cheek.

  “Your lips are purple.” I cupped her face between my hands. “We need to find somewhere warm or we’re going to die.”

  “She was lucky I was here,” said the elf, a dagger in hand. I recognized the Henderbellian symbol on his armor; cuts and bruises covered his pale face.

  “Who are you?” I asked, alarmed. “And what happened to those things?”

  “My name is Loomstak.” He sheathed the dagger back into the scabbard on his waist. “And those things were just killed.” He stretched his hand toward us, releasing a sphere of light. It hovered in mid-air, flickering like a flame. “Don’t touch it. It’s hot.”

  I stretched my hand in its direction, warmth striking my skin immediately. Ava followed my act. Cracks spread over the surface of his armor, the gash on his cheek stretching from his eyebrow down to his chin.

  “I know who you are,” Ava said behind chattering teeth. “Ishmael spoke of you.”

  “You know him?” he asked in a tone of surprise. His neck spasmed left, his tongue bulging under his lower lip.

  “We do,” I added.

  Loomstak frowned. “You’re Bane’s kids, aren’t you?”

  “Yes,” I replied, the sound of the river distant.

  “You knew our dad?” Ava asked, water dripping from her hair down to her shoulder.

  “I did. And your mother,” He added, and stepped closer. “Any news of your grandparents?”

  “No,” Ava answered. “We saw them being taken by the Shadow Spirits, but nothing after.”

  “You were lucky I was close. If you weren’t taken by them, then the cold alone would’ve killed you.”

  “How did you kill it?” I asked. “Doopar killed a Soul Drainer in the castle. I’ve been curious since.”

  Loomstak revealed the dagger on his waist. “Blade is made of Sacred Tears. The only metal that can actually kill Shadow Spirits and Soul Drainers. Forget blood magic and all other sorcery used to contain them.” His hands fidgeted as his neck twitched right.

  “What happened to you and your men?” I observed his fidgeting movements.

  “My men and I were near the prison when it ensnared me with its dark magic and made me its host. None of us expected to come across Soul Drainers.” Tears welled in his purple eyes. “I could see and feel everything, though I no longer had control over my body. I watched all my men be mutilated and killed while I was spared.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” I said.

  “How did you escape?” Ava asked, chin chattering.

  His body jerked as if struck by a bolt of lightning. He pressed his eyes shut, took in a long breath and said, “I didn’t.”

  I pulled Ava by her arm. “Ava!”

  Loomstak’s head twitched to the left. He extended his hand toward me, a mist escaping his palm.

  Everything disappeared.

  CHAPTER 21

  I was inside a barred cell, wrists chained above my head. Torches flickered on the stone walls. The place smelled like mold and rotten eggs. Ava was beside me, also chained at her wrists. Our clothes had been exchanged for dark tattered cloaks.

  “Ava.” I nudged her with my foot. “Are you alright?”

  “Enzo…” she mumbled, opening her eyes, head resting on her shoulder.

  “Wake up.”

  She squirmed once consciousness found her, trying to jerk her wrists free. Her feeble attempts stopped as she scanned our surroundings. “Where are we?” she asked, fear stamped on her face.

  “You shouldn’t be here.” The familiar voice sent my heart to a race, its sound triggering hope and despair. He was under one of the torches, hair tangled, beard stained with mud, body also covered in a dark cloak.

  “Grandpa!” My voice boomed, relieved to see he still lived. Seeing him here with me was like being aboard a ship in a storm. No matter the fate the thrashing waves brought with them, we were all to tread the violent waters together.

  “You’re alive!” Ava’s voice broke at the sound of her words.

  “And he isn’t alone,” said Ishmael from the other side, Doopar beside him, wrists and ankles chained. They sat on the ground, dressed in garments similar to ours.

  “You’re all here.” A shaky laugh burst out of me. “You’re alive.”

  “For now,” Doopar added, her blonde tresses covering half of her face.

  “Where are we?” Ava grimaced, shuffling her wrists.

  “In the dungeon of the Prison of Krishmar,” Grandpa replied.

  “Where’s Grandma?” I asked with a shudder.

  “I haven’t seen her since the day they took us.” He bowed his head. “I don’t know where she is.”

  His answer was like a blow to my stomach. “Have they done anything to you, Gramps?” His face blurred behind my welling tears. “Are you okay?”

  He frowned. “The most damaging thing is what I’ve done to myself and our family. Whips, chains, and torture are nothing compared to the wound I’ve inflicted on all of you.”

  “Why do you sound so defeated?” I grunted at the pain of the shackles scraping my skin. “I’ve heard so many great stories about you in the last few days. You’re the king of Henderbell.”

  “And yet the Shadow Spirits found your grandma and I in our home in Dorthcester. Neither one of us suspected they had learned how to travel between time and both worlds. I wasn’t able to keep my son and his wife here. You and your sister were never told of your truth. How great of a saint and king am I?” He closed his eyes and nodded. “They found us at our most vulnerable. And now Christmas is almost here. Your grandma is gone. Henderbell and Albernaith will be destroyed.”

  “Don’t say that,” Ava admonished. “We need to believe together. We can’t just abandon—”

  “Belief alone does no good, sweetheart.” He reclined his head back on the stone wall, the scratches on his neck now in view. “I believed none other than our family knew how to travel between time. I believed by keeping Henderbell away from you two, no evil would find you. I believed in respecting your father’s choice to leave only—”

  “You had good intensions, Gramps,” I interrupted.

  “It doesn’t matter how good they were. They started a war.” His gaze shifted to the roof of the prison. “I’ve failed my people. I’ve failed my family. I’ve failed Henderbell.”

  “You aren’t dead yet,” Ava said. “We’re still alive. There’s still hope.”

  His eyes turned to her. “Ishmael told me Kurah found you. He told me what he showed you. He also showed me as a king once.”

  “I never knew that,” Ishmael mentioned.

  “No one does,” he added. “Not even Mary. He showed me riding on a white stallion, my son at my side, both of us armored from head to toe. The twelve sigils of the Henderbellian Kingdoms danced in the air and then bowed to me. I was fifteen when he appeared. What angers me the most is the fact he never bothered to show me how my kingdom would end.”

  “I refuse to believe that.” I stood on the tips of my toes in an effort to relieve my wrists of the pain of the shackles. “I refuse to believe this is the end. We’re still breathing. You’re still alive. Kurah came to me as well.”

  Grandpa let out a heavy sigh. “Seems like he’s been visiting anyone who’s willing to give him a chance.” He gave me a broody stare. “I like your enthusiasm, but there are many things you’ve yet to learn.”

  “Do you know magic, too, Grandpa?” Ava groaned.

  “I do, but unlike elves, the magic of our family needs an object to be wielded,” he said.

  “And where’s this object?” I asked.

  “In the castle. It’s a necklace with a pendant shaped like an eight-angled star.”

  “I saw it in Dad’s old bedroom.” My words earned a frown from him.

  “Impossible. That necklace is kept under lock and key in a safe,” he said, confused.

  “No, it was in my dad’s old bedroom. It was silver and it had roots drawn on the surface.” His eyes widened. “I’m telling you, I saw it.”

  “He did see it,” Ishmael agreed. “I also saw it in the room.”

  “Who put it there?” Grandpa asked.

  “I assumed you left it on the shelf for some reason,” Ishmael suggested.

  A vacant stare took Grandpa’s eyes.

  “Can we use magic if we get it?” Ava asked.

  “You two won’t be able to use magic until you’re sealed in Henderbell,” he replied.

  “What does that mean?” I asked as a drop of blood ran down my wrist.

  “You need to agree to be bound to your magic, which also brings the responsibility of being a Henderbellian ruler. And if you ever decide to be a king or a queen, you’d be required to carry the same burden your grandma and I carry. And whoever you marry will carry the same weight. But that’s a decision you don’t have to—”

  Approaching footsteps interrupted his words. A man with three horns appeared on the other side of the cell, an X-shaped scar streaked across his chest.

  He put his hands on his waist and trailed his tongue over his lips. “Oh, don’t let me stop the fun. I don’t like to be the center of attention,” he said in a tone of sarcasm, unlocking the barred door. Every hair on my body raised at the sight of his gray eyes as he strolled inside the cell, coming toward me. I had seen those eyes in Dorthcester when the shadow appeared by the stairs.

  “We need to have a little talk,” he said, unlocking the shackles around my wrists.

  “Where are—" Words turned to grunts as he grabbed me by the nape of my neck.

  “You bastard!” Grandpa shouted. “Leave him alone. I’ll kill you. I will kill you!”

  “Will you?” he said snidely. “I don’t think so.”

  Ava kept on shouting my name as he dragged me out of the cell.

  I jerked my head, hoping to break free from his grasp. He thrust me forward, releasing me from his hold. “Hey! Hey!” He locked the barred door and held both of his hands in the air. “I just want to talk. You’re acting like I’m leading you to a slaughterhouse.”

  I spotted Ava on the other side of the bars, staring with bulging eyes, blood trickling down her wrists.

  “Walk,” commanded the three-horned man with a finger pointed over my shoulder.

  In front of me was a spiral staircase lit by a single torch. I did as he commanded, venturing into the darkness ahead, every step adding to the certainty that I was going to die today. Blood dripped from the wounds on my wrists. I chanced a look over my shoulder and trembled at the flames reflected on his eyes.

  The light coming from the burning torch grew dimmer as the darkness thickened, moving like tossing waves on the ocean. The temperature dropped. Rumbles resounded. The darkness parted like a curtain, revealing a wide empty hall with a white marble floor, every wall covered by a fluttering gray mist. Up on the roof was a symbol: a skull crowned with thorns.

  The three-horned man hurried his steps, now walking ahead of me. He halted the moment we stood under the symbol on the roof.

  “What do you want?” I asked in a shrill voice.

  A wide smile took his face. “Right now, I want you to sit.” From each of his hands revolved a mist that assumed the shape of two iron chairs. “Please.”

  “So you first send someone to kidnap me in the woods, make me your prisoner, and then you want to have a conversation?”

  He crossed his arms over his chest, giving me a nod of disapproval. “I do apologize for the chaos, but that was the only way to get you to listen.”

  “Got a name?” I asked, fingers tingling.

  “Oh, of course. Manners. My name is Molock, a Specter of Vaneeries.”

  “Are you going to sit?”

  He shrugged and scrunched his face, taking a seat and crossing his legs. He beckoned me to do the same with a wave.

  I did as he requested.

  “What’s a Specter?” I asked.

  “I assist my king, Vaneeries,” he replied. “Specters are assigned a task and a hive of Shadow Spirits. A Specter ensures the Shadow Spirits get the job done, since their conscience isn’t as developed as ours.”

  “So you’ve got more brain than the rest of them.”

  He smiled. “That’s one way to look at it.”

  I leaned forward, elbows on my knees. “Let them go,” I said. “I’ll do whatever you want. Please.”

  “One game at a time.” He chuckled.

  “Is that what this is to you? A game?” My fingers laced together, hands trembling.

  “Yes, and you’re one of the main pieces.” He slouched forward, locking his gray dull eyes with my own. “Now, let me be candid. I want to save you and your sister. I don’t see why you have to die.”

  My head jerked back. “Save me and my sister?”

  “You two have potential. I can feel your strength. And since you’re the older brother, I thought you and I should have a chat. You do care for your sister, don’t you?”

  I leaned back and narrowed my eyes. “I know your story,” I declared. “Doopar told me.”

  He took in a breath through gritted teeth. “And what did an elf tell you?”

  “I heard two tales, one that spoke of your people, the Meoner, crossing the Crystal Sea to lead an attack against Henderbell.”

  His face grew rigid. “And the other tale?”

  “The elves found a scroll written by your king, Vaneeries. It said you discovered a magic so strong you had to flee your country. Some Henderbellian king…I can’t remember his name—”

  “King Oden,” he added.

  “Yes, King Oden saw the potential behind your magic and invited you to work with him, only to have you burned at the stake on Christmas.”

  “That’s one way to look at it.” Ghosts seemed to have taken over his eyes. “All we wanted was freedom for the Meoner. We were going to return home after we had settled here to bring the rest of us across the Crystal Sea. We left sons, daughters, husbands, and wives behind. Even if the king knew burning us would imprison our souls forever, he did it anyway—even if this world was also promised to my people.”

  Sluggish footsteps resounded around me. From the whirling mist on the wall appeared walking corpses shielded in broken armor, their bodies covered in wounds. They walked upright, like soldiers following their leader. Their ears gave away their identity. Elves.

  “You see what we did to the elves?” He stood to his feet. “See how we’ve perfected them? This is the redemption my master wishes to bring upon all living things after they’re dead. We’ll use their bodies to host the Soul Drainers. We’ll rebuild Henderbell and create one glorious kingdom, expanding its power to Albernaith by giving both worlds a fresh start.”

  My fingers grasped the seat of the chair. The putrid stench coming from the lacerated bodies brought a sinking feeling to my stomach.

  “There’s also something else.” The elves shuffled at the sound of his words, standing in two separate lines, creating a walkway between them. My body tensed, my heart ensnared by hopelessness. One elf appeared from the mist on the wall, holding my grandmother by her wrist.

  “Enzo!” The sound of her screaming my name stole the air from my lungs. “Don’t touch him.” Her glasses were cracked, partially hidden by the silver hair falling on her face, her body covered in the same dark cloak I was.

  Seeing her dragged by living corpses sparked haunting images in my head of what they might have done to her in the past few days.

  “Oh, quiet.” Molock grimaced. “She’s so loud all the time.”

  “What do you want from me?” I asked, blood boiling in my veins “I’ll do anything. But let my family go.”

  “A fair trade,” he said.

  The floor beside me parted, its stones piling on top of one another until forming a well.

  “Bring her here.” Molock tapped on the brim of the well.

  The walking elven carcass dragged her to him, her attention on me.

  “Well, sit,” he demanded once she was within reach.

  Grandma did as he commanded. “Enzo, whatever he asks of you, don’t do it.”

  “Why don’t we let Enzo decide this one?” A flush of adrenaline rushed through my body as he laid a hand on her shoulder. “He’s a grown boy, after all.”

  She trembled.

  “What do you want?” I insisted.

  “The object that allows your family to use magic,” he said. “You’d be paying a debt long overdue.”

  “What debt?” I asked.

  “My people were supposed to own that object. Such power was supposed to belong to the Meoner, not to the Griffins,” he replied. “And now you have the chance to make this right.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said.

 

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