My affinities are not with me now, and I feel their absence like an ice-cold blanket draped over my bare shoulders. Uncomfortable. Is that the Nulling’s doing?
A sudden gust of wind brushes my skin, and then another, and another, almost like something is flying past me. Tentatively, I reach out, waiting. My fingers graze nothing but cool, damp air. In the far distance, a roar sounds, but here, I feel completely alone.
This is what my love has had to endure for over three centuries? How did he not go mad?
“Elijah?” I call out, then a second time, louder, “Elijah?”
Again and again, I call, taking small, cautious steps forward as if I might accidentally fall off an unseen cliff.
Suddenly, hands seize my biceps from behind, startling me.
I spin around.
My Elijah is right before me, exactly as I remember him.
“Sofie?” His face brims with incredulity, his hands fumbling over my face. “Is that really you?”
“Yes, Elijah. Yes!” I break down in tears and throw my arms around his shoulders, clinging to their strength.
He holds me tightly, sobbing. “How long has it been?”
“Too long, my love. Too long. You would not believe what I have gone through to reach you. What I have had to do.” Centuries of groveling and bowing and giving myself to Malachi in every way possible. Can Elijah ever forgive me for that part?
His emotions settle, his body relaxing against mine as he strokes my hair. “Shhh … There will be time for this later. We must leave the Nulling now.”
I wipe away the tears with the back of my hand like a graceless child, though more trickle out. “Where? How do we get out of here?” Malachi never explained.
“Follow me.” Collecting my hand, he leads me through the fog.
A stream of slow-moving water trickles ahead. I bend to splash my face with it. “Where are we?” We’ve walked for what feels like hours, that endless and unnerving roar growing louder until the fog gave way to this place. Here, the comforting buzz of my affinities has returned.
“In an ancient mining city named Soldor.”
“In Islor?” We’ve passed through the Nulling’s veil?
“Yes, and our path is this way, if I remember correctly.” Elijah disappears around the corner. He was quiet as we walked, singly focused on finding our way. I welcomed the silence, reveling in the feel of his hand, stunned that he and I are finally together again.
“Yes. Come, my love. I have found it!”
I rush toward the sound of his voice.
Elijah stands within a sanctum, stroking engravings on a stone wall.
“How did you say you know about this place?” Malachi once described nymph scripture. I imagined it looking like this. But Elijah has been trapped in the Nulling for three centuries. He has never been to Islor before.
“I will explain later.” Elijah winks. “Unless you’d like to live in a cave, we need your caster powers. All of them, and gently.”
He is acting strange. Too calm and collected for a soul just rescued from the ether. Or maybe it’s that I’m still in shock. I sigh, drawing on my affinities to bond them into silver cord. “Fine, but you will divulge all your secrets.”
Humor flashes in his gaze as he takes my hand, kissing the back of it. “I will, my spitfire.”
Nostalgia washes over me. Another familiar pet name.
I release my affinities into the stone and, in the next moment, the cave is gone and we are standing within another sanctum, this one outside. I look up into the sky and marvel at the magnificent second moon, bathing light over the towering trees and abundant gardens. Malachi told me tales about this special moon when he was preparing me to send Romeria here. It’s far more magnificent than he described. “And where are we now?” The scent of spilled blood and smoke taints the air.
Elijah brings my hand to his lips again. “We are home, my queen.”
CHAPTER SEVENTY-SEVEN
GRACEN
I admire the Hudem moon’s silver glow from my balcony as my three children sleep soundly inside. It bathes the city of Ulysede below—gleaming off the river, kissing the pastures beyond, highlighting the countless empty buildings that wait for inhabitants.
I’ve always thought this moon was beautiful, even if what it represented—more Islorian immortals to enslave us and claim our veins—was not.
But now, according to all the whispers I’ve heard since we arrived in this strange city, our veins will no longer be needed. Definitely not in this magical place, and supposedly not in Islor either. How, or why, no one is saying.