Chapter thirty - four - Aurum Rivernorth

Over the next few days, Freya and I planned what I would do to talk with the shifter. She concluded that it'd be our best option if I went during an arena fight since everyone else would be focused on what was happening out in the pit. I knew whatever we chose to do was a risk for us—a risk for me where I'd be opening fresh wounds from what I'd faced with the queen.

And last night, while I laid in bed, clutching the blade Idris gifted me in one hand and in the other my crescent, I thought of my mother.

She once said you can have the clearest vision of what you want from your future and the steps you plan to get there, but the more you visualize it, the more it will likely change. She believed destiny had a role in that—that we aren't supposed to know what comes at us in life, so if we are to plan what happens next, destiny changes it, and it becomes unknown again.

My life right now is unknown again.

I clench my fists as I pass the cells, exhaling in need to comfort myself. Freya had the brutal task of distracting some Venators before I snuck down here. Even though she's not close to her father, the Venators were keen to know how to get in the General's good graces from their one and only daughter.

Hearing the racket from the arena dripping through the walls of the dungeons, I still myself. The pathway then narrows the further I stare down at it that I close my eyes. My tunic sticks to my back, and I shake my head, clearing the oncoming thoughts over that dragon.

When I slow my breathing, I open my eyes and carry on, never glancing to the sides of me at the cacophony of prisoners. I slow my steps once I remember how close I am to the dragon's cave where she was being held, and to my left, I stop, turning to face that same shifter. He's on the floor, his hair rugged and outgrown, knees up to his chest, and the same chains rest on his wrists and ankles.

I move closer, and from his bowed head position, he looks up. I swallow as I take a good look at the blood, fresh and dry at the same time seeping from where his chains lie. They must dig deep within his skin.

Inwardly, I shudder, but the shifter tilts his head, and a smirk on his pale lips appears—like the rest of his gaunt figure.

"Well, this is new," he says, dark eyes narrowing as if to see me better. "They must have taken my request to have someone desirable torture me instead."

"I'm not here to torture you," I keep my voice at ease, but his comment alone makes me rethink whether I want to or not.

His laugh is rough like that's hard to believe until he stops, and his gaze focuses on me too long that I shift uncomfortably. "I recognize you." He points, the chains dragging across the floor. "You were here not long ago... with the queen."

He's curious, but I know he doesn't trust anything right now. Why would he?

"She's not with me," I say, slowly and his brows lift. "If that's what you're wondering. I actually came down here without her authorization in hopes you can give me answers."

"Why would I do that for a mortal I do not even know?"

"Because I have something that can help you."

"And what could that possibly be?"

I take out the vial of ash from my sheath and hold it under the crackle of the fire, lighting everything in its path. "It'll help any pain you're feeling. All I ask is for information in return."

The single wave of hope I have over him knowing more about the queen hangs by a thread. He can easily know nothing of the sort.

He stares at the vial in my hand for a few minutes, then looks at me, tipping his head back, half bored, half amused. "Aren't you a Venator?"

"Not exactly." My answer makes him chuckle doubtfully. I'm starting to believe I never was one, to begin with.

The shifter rests his forearm on top of his knee, his clothes shredded and dirty before he clicks his tongue and says, "Seems like an unfair deal to me."

"I can get you out," I blurt out as he starts looking away. If I have to beg, I will, no matter how much I hated ever doing that. "I just need time." I can already imagine Freya shaking her head at me for even suggesting I get a shifter of all people out.

He regards me silently, the spark of curiosity firing up again inside his eyes. "You're right. You're not a Venator."

Hearing him say that forces my limbs to lock, it's the first I've had someone else say it aloud. He places his hand out, motioning his head to the vial. The only thing barricading us is the steel bars and the shadow lines it casts onto his face as he moves.

I retract the vial to my chest despite him being unable to reach it from where I'm standing. "First, the answers."

His lip curls into a half-grin. "Smart move."

I get straight to the point, knowing I can't stay down here for long. "What do you know of Sarilyn Orcharian and the Rivernorths?"

His eyes widen, and he blows out a breath. "It's been so long since someone asked me of the Rivernorths."

My gaze narrows. "How long?"

"Centuries," he answers, and seconds of silence pass by. "They were a bloodline that dated millenniums before my time, shifters so powerful everyone believed that they were born of the moon in the Northern rivers of Emberwell." He swirls a finger over the dusted floor, drawing a circle and lines. "They controlled the oceans, the light, and skies. Zerathion thought them to be invincible. Normal weapons, steel, poison of sorts couldn't kill them."

"Yet the queen managed," I say and notice once he lifts his finger, he'd drawn out the same symbol that was on that pendant. Three rivers and a compass pointing north. This means there aren't just three dragon types because the Rivernorths were a fourth.

"Sarilyn grew up thinking she was mortal. Back then when Aurum Rivernorth ruled as king, he enslaved humans, used them as servants," he says. "Witches provided for shifters, bonded with them like no one could, and around that time, Sorcerers detested it. They wanted a new leader and to overthrow the Exarees."

"And so, they ended up fighting wars against the witches. Where does Sarilyn fit into this?"

He lifts his index finger like he's implying that he's getting to that. "When she was young, soldiers including me were sent to a village by orders of Aurum to gather mortals. She lived with her parents and a brother, but that day—" Wincing to himself, he glances at the floor and the Rivernorth symbol. "When we were capturing civilians, her family fought back to not have their children taken. It resulted in them and her brother being slaughtered by a shifter in front of Sarilyn."

My hands curl around my throat as if that were to stop any nausea. Slaughtered in front of her by a shifter. The very beings she despises.

"What happened at that moment," he continues, but I'm staring at the bars. "Unleashed something within Sarilyn. We all witnessed her magic destroy the village into flames, escaping before we could do anything."

"A sorceress," I whisper, and my eyes bounce back to the shifter. "What happened after?"

"We searched among sorcerers for Sarilyn, but when years passed, we presumed she was dead." He rises to his feet, stretching out his full height. He's unnaturally tall though I do not show any dread over it. "Until a girl... grown, beautiful and kind came to the castle. She claimed to be a witch, here to help against the upcoming battles as well as with tradings. Immediately she caught Aurums eyes, and months went by without anyone realizing who she truly was."

She was out for revenge. "How is that possible?"

"When she escaped that day at the village, she found a woman named Sybil, a sorceress like her, who taught her everything. Sarilyn has always been a smart person, but..." He trails off, shaking his head.

"But what?" I step further into the light of the dungeons, my tone coming across agitated.

His eyes cut to mine with cruel amusement. "She was never able to fool Aurum."

"He knew it was her all along?" I say what was already implied.

The shifter nods. "She couldn't kill him, but we know she wanted vengeance either way. The only problem was that she fell for him." He pauses as soon as he sees my expression fall, and it's as if my body liquifies. "She fell for the one person she despised the most."

I shake my head slowly, hardly grasping what the shifter is saying. It spins at the vision of the queen in love with the man she ended up murdering.

"Of course, Aurum, only having loved himself, played her just how she had intended to do. And one day, he led her to where he had captured Sybil without her knowledge. Before she could realize what was happening, he killed Sybil as punishment." The shifter paces in the little confinement he has, my eyes tracing him and the chains scraping against dust. "He showed Sarilyn how cruel he could be as she fought back with power while he was prepared to end her life too."

Aurum killed everyone she'd loved, ending what she'd too felt for him along with it. "But she survived it," I say, knowing where it's all led to her now.

"Even in her weakened state, she did. She fled, and the cold, heartless Sarilyn emerged from then on."

My eyelids lower solemnly, and I channel the pain she must have felt then, to lose everyone she loved, to be betrayed. I question whether I would have done the same in her position. Would I have gone that far? Could I do that now if I was to be in the same situation?

"What no one expected was for her to come back at the time of the war with a crafted weapon that could kill the Rivernorths so easily."

I snap my head up at him and blanch, only to see his stare so bleak and distant.

"I saw it happen," he says, voice gruff and low. "On the battlefield, how she gained the upper hand on Aurum with all her wrath and finally plunged that sword through him. I then watched how she proceeded to murder the entire bloodline; children included and shifters with the help of mortals she'd trained at her disposal."

Too quick does my heart recognize how that was the start of what one day would be the Venators. She'd formed them from the beginning.

"After that, the treaty was formed, the war stopped, and we all had to bow down to the new leader of Emberwell." The shifter waves a hand, but the bitterness in his scoff is clear. "You know the rest."

I do, at least I think I do. Huffing, I ask, "How did she craft that weapon?"

He snorts in remembrance. "We called it Northern, blade. But before that, when Aurum killed Sybil, Sarilyn spent a long time in Terranos, right before the screaming forests were formed by Dusan, the Elven king."

I straighten at the mention of the Elven king, and the shifter notices, parting his lips and wetting the corner of them. "You've heard of the stories about the Aisle of Elements, haven't you?"

I don't answer, but my expression conveys that I have. It's where the festivities for Noctura come from, the release of its magic. Without it, who knows what our lands could be like.

The shifter makes his way towards the bars, adding, "How it contains the power of Solaris and Crello. Grants what you desire... and more." His head now tilts, getting a better look at me. I'm tempted to move back, but I don't. "The only ones who have access to it are the Elves. So... whatever happened during that time she spent there, the Aisle of Elements played a part." He waits for any reaction out of me before shrugging. "She'd also lost her powers once she obtained the sword and the Elven king cut all ties with kingdoms, creating the—"

"You don't know what might have caused the Elven king to do that? Did the queen—"

"Possibly," he says, knowing where my question was heading. "But no one wants to go through that forest, you're just as good as dead, and once you cross the threshold between Emberwell and the Screaming Forests, shifters, witches, and whomever else become powerless."

Powerless? I'd always assumed the creatures that lay within the forest were what was so dangerous about it. But for a shifter or a witch, unable to use their magic is just as perilous.

"Besides, leaders from other kingdoms already despised one another. They could never come to an agreement. And many times, we almost went to wars against other kingdoms because of Aurum—because he wanted more power than he already had. He wanted to reign over every land." He sighs, wrapping his fingers on the handles. "I don't blame Dusan for removing himself and his kingdom from the rest."

"But where is that sword now?" Why I'm asking doesn't add up in my mind, but if she has it, there might be more to it that even the shifters do not know.

"Last I heard was that twenty years ago, Sarilyn had someone destroy it."

I frown at the number. Why did it take her that long before she decided to destroy it? I want to ask the shifter exactly that, but a screech like gates opening and closing come from a different direction of the dungeons. Assuming it's Venators, I know I can't stay down here anymore. I look back to the shifter, handing him the vial of ash. "Here, it will last you until I come up with a way to get you out."

He glances at it as I wait for him to grab, snatch, pry it off me in some way, but he just smirks. "What if I tell you I want something more?"

"That wasn't part of the deal," I say to him, shaking the ash for him to take it. Annoyance colors my voice as I stare at where I'd come from, hoping no Venator appears. Instead, panic rolls over me as his fingers close around my wrist and jerks me forward.

"I've been in hiding for centuries, and when they finally captured me, I'd not cared for what they might do to me, but—" He drops his head to my arm, inhaling. "You strangely draw me in. I don't know what it is."

I focus my glare on him. "And you never will, so let go."

He doesn't. He laughs as I pull at my arm and struggle through the bars. For a shifter that should be weakened from the chains, he still possesses an unnatural strength.

I tell him to let go again. He ignores it, pressing his nails into my skin that I wince and drop the ash. He's a lunatic; he must be. From what he's seen throughout centuries to being locked up, what else has he got to lose?

I use my other hand to grab my blade from the sheath, but I'm limited in movement. With my knuckles crushing against the cool steel and alarm pulsing through me, I find the hilt and tear it free.

It's a blur of seconds where I'm unaware of what's happening as the force knocks me back and I trip. I never hit the ground as hands catch me around my waist, and I watch my crescent flip in the air and fall. Something else then crashes onto the floor. All I see are shards and fluorescent red splattered everywhere before the shifter yelps like an animal just having been struck by a weapon.

My ears ring, baffled as I stare at him, whimpering and clinging onto his arm in agony. When I look at the trail of red liquid leading up to the shifter, I also realize I'm still in someone's arms.

I raise my head, and it hits the chest of Lorcan's. He's here. He's staring down at me with confusion and possibly anger tormenting his features. I don't see Freya nearby and wonder if he's come from a different part of the dungeons.

"Lorcan—" I start when he moves past me, and I swivel with narrowing brows, watching him bend down.

Once he stands and slowly turns, my heart beats sporadically. He's holding my crescent as he walks back to me. I'm breathing so hard I'll soon fall unconscious if I keep going. His eyes never leave the crescent as he flips it over and notices the engraving of the letter R. A sharp breath leaves him, shocked, confused, everything I can imagine as his thumb glides the markings.

I reach out to it, gently that he still doesn't take his eyes off it as I drag it away from him. I repeat his name, but a groan from the shifter's cell finally snaps Lorcan out of his trance.

We both look at the shifter, coiled up on the floor, panting and wincing in pain. His hand squeezes his other arm tight that veins bulge underneath his skin.

"What did you throw at him?" Lorcan rasps, treading carefully to the blood painted everywhere. I follow behind, shaking my head because I hadn't thrown anything. My eyes scan the shards and then stop at the label stuck to the floor.

Fairy blood.

The vial I'd carried around since the day I took it from Ivarron's home.

My body jumps as the shifter's yells echo the walls. Lorcan then grabs me by the arm spinning me to face him.

"Wait for me in my chambers." His voice isn't soft; it's authoritative.

I can't seem to get my words out. I'm just shaking my head, trying to understand everything as the shifter continues his agonizing cries. "What? No—"

"Nara." He presses his palms flat on my shoulders, his expression stark. "As a deputy, I'm ordering you to wait there."

There's enough finality in that command that I stare at him. He's not Lorcan right now. He's the second in command to warriors, doing his duty.

I step back, and his hands slide off me. I look at the shifter, then Lorcan again, and sprint out of there. Holding the crescent to my heart I get to the entrance and spot Freya still talking to the Venators. I try and catch her attention so that we can get out of this horrible place.