Chapter 174
The ether feels wrong the moment I enter it. The usually shimmering, infinite expanse is dull, its hues muted like a sunless sky. Moving through it feels heavy, like I’m wading through rough, churning water. The sense of resistance is disorienting, and it takes me longer than usual to steady myself and focus.
I search for the pathway to Wake, but what once felt clear and natural now seems distant, faint. Panic tugs at the edges of my resolve, but I force myself to push forward, following the faint thread of connection between us. It’s there—thin, fragile, but there. I lock onto it and push, driving myself through the strange density of the ether until finally, Wake’s presence comes into view.
The sight stops me cold.
Wake is in shackles, his arms bound in glowing restraints that match the veins of pulsating material embedded in the porous dark walls around him. The cell is cavernous but oppressive, its walls alive with the eerie, faintly humming veins I recognize from the mines. The faint glow casts unsettling shadows over the grim scene.
Khale is nowhere to be seen. Instead, the room is filled with other men, all shackled like Wake. Some sit silently, their faces pale and gaunt, while others groan softly, nursing wounds or bruises. One Enkian catches my eye—his lower half is that of a squid, but his right arm is missing entirely, the stump freshly wrapped in a crude bandage. He cradles it despondently, his head bowed as though all hope has left him. Another man, his face gaunt with hunger, stares blankly at the floor, his hollow eyes reflecting the faint glow of the veins in the walls.
A gasp escapes me before I can stop it. My eyes dart back to Wake, who sits near the center of the cell, his head lowered as though he’s conserving his strength. At the sound, his head snaps up, his dark eyes locking onto mine. But he doesn’t react otherwise. No relief, no surprise, nothing. His stoicism feels like a dagger in my chest.
I move toward him, kneeling in front of him, my heart breaking at the sight of his restrained form. “Wake,” I whisper, trying to keep my voice steady. “Are you okay?”
He doesn’t answer. His gaze flicks around the room, scanning the other prisoners with calculated subtlety. Only when he’s sure no one is watching does he rise to his full, imposing height. Without acknowledging me, he swims down a dark offshoot hallway that’s empty.
I hesitate for only a moment before following him. The hallway is eerily silent, the faint hum of the glowing veins the only sound. It feels alive, almost sentient, as though the walls are aware of our every move. When we’re alone, Wake finally turns to me, his expression unreadable.
“Where are you?” he asks, his voice low but intense. “Where are they keeping you?”
“We’re in a tower,” I say quickly. “It’s nothing like this… dungeon. Cora and I are fine.”
Wake grunts in acknowledgment, but the tightness in his jaw doesn’t ease. His eyes sweep the hallway as though searching for unseen threats. Every muscle in his body is tense, coiled, ready for action.
“Where’s Khale?” I ask, my voice trembling slightly. “Is he…”
“I don’t know,” Wake says grimly. “He was gone when I woke up down here. If I had to guess, they’re interrogating him.”
My stomach churns at the thought. “That’s awful. This place… whatever it is… is awful.”
Wake doesn’t respond immediately. His gaze shifts back to me, and something flickers across his face. Before I can decipher it, I feel it—a sharp tug deep within me. My ethereal form flickers, like a candle in a gust of wind.
“Phoebe,” Wake says sharply, stepping forward. His hands grip my shoulders before I can pull away. The moment his skin touches mine, thick violet veins crawl up his arms, glowing ominously. They spread like roots seeking to claim him, their faint hum growing louder.
“Wake!” I jerk back instinctively, breaking his hold. The veins stop their advance but remain etched on his skin, pulsing faintly. Wake coils back on his tail, his breathing heavy as he stares at his marred hands. His fingers curl into fists, his knuckles whitening as he tries to suppress whatever is coursing through him.
“What just happened?” I whisper, my voice trembling. The sight of those veins—their unnatural glow—leaves me shaken.
“Ether poisoning,” Wake mutters, his tone grim. “But it doesn’t make sense. Ether poisoning only happens to those who stay in the etherworld too long.”
My breath catches. “You haven’t been in the ether,” I say slowly. “I have.”
The realization hits us both at the same time. I remember the mysterious woman’s words, her cryptic warning that I wouldn’t be able to use the ether to find Wake, that it “wouldn’t work.” She must have meant it literally.
“This is my fault,” I say, my voice cracking. “I should have listened.”
Wake’s expression hardens. “Listened to what?”
I shake my head, backing away from him. The glow of the violet veins on his arms is a stark reminder of the danger I’ve brought to him. “I need to leave,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper.
“Phoebe, wait,” Wake says, rising to his full height. His hand extends toward me, but I flinch before he can touch me again. His expression darkens, frustration and concern warring in his eyes. “Don’t do this.”
Tears sting my eyes as I shake my head again. “Cora and I will try to figure out what’s going on,” I say, my voice trembling. “But I can’t put you at risk anymore.”
“Phoebe,” he growls, his voice low and dangerous. “Don’t you dare—”
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, the words breaking as they leave my lips. Before he can stop me, I let the ether pull me away, the connection snapping as I disappear from his sight. The image of him standing alone in that oppressive hallway lingers with me, a fresh ache twisting in my chest as the ether drags me back to my physical body.
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