probably went missing only shortly before I left, she must have figured out that I had something to do with it. But I wonder if she knows the role our father played. Even more, I wonder who helped him plant it for me by the lake since I doubt he had the time to bury it there himself.
“There’s a passage here,” Astor says quietly.
I kneel down next to him, where he has discovered a loose stone beneath the table. I help him slide it out of place, revealing a secret chamber. The faint light that rises from it is encouraging, suggesting the hidden compartment contains a way out. Astor drops down into it, and I quickly follow, replacing the stone behind me to cover our trail.
The chamber is small, and to our chagrin doesn’t lead to an exit of any kind. It is rather more of a safe room, which I suppose is better than us being trapped somewhere in the open. Hopefully the soldiers won’t notice the loose stone like Astor did and will eventually assume we’ve gotten away.
A few tiny openings at the far side of the chamber allow for the room’s light. We walk over to peek through them, finding that they provide a narrow view of a corridor that runs adjacent to a large gardened area. At its far end is a soldier, who upon our arrival begins cautiously moving toward us.
“What was that?” he calls out warily.
Astor and I share a confused look. Our steps have been cautious and nearly silent. There’s no way he could have heard us, yet something has attracted his attention our way. Astor and I duck out of view, fearful that he can see our shadows through the slits in the wall. My breathing becomes heavy again as I anxiously consider the possibility of being captured, of being brought before my sister’s dark and clouded gaze.
His steps get softer as he approaches. I recognize the sharp, hollow sound of metal as he slowly unsheathes his sword, but then the bushes suddenly rustle and a loud thud and crashing follows. By the time Astor and I pop up and look, he is gone.
Somewhere in the distance, another soldier calls out in alarm. Two more immediately appear from a doorway below us and run across the garden, seemingly unaware of the mysterious fate the soldier from before suffered just seconds ago.
“It’s not safe to be here,” Astor whispers.
We climb carefully up the ladder leading back into the bedroom, gently removing the stone and stepping up out of the hole. I creep to the window again, curious if the guards are still there. Two remain standing alert, but the others are gone.
One catches sight of me and turns. But just as he is about to call to the others, a mist gathers behind him like a dark flash, and a murky black hand reaches out and grabs him, pulling him back into the swirling fog. The second guard’s back is facing him, but the instant she spins about, a dark silhouette steps from the dark haze and approaches her. She slashes her sword across the ethereal being, but her blade glides through it like a hand swiping harmlessly through a puff of clouds. The being then grabs onto her, immediately paralyzing her body and dragging her helplessly through the gate and out of view.
Astor and I start running back down the hallway, but I am almost immediately stilled by a voice echoing in my mind.
‘You are not in danger.’
I stop and stare at Astor, immediately sensing that he did not hear what I did.
“Wait,” I say to him.
He looks at me, panic in his eyes, though he seems to agree that we shouldn’t run aimlessly into the unknown. We need to remain wary of the other soldiers no matter what power is at work here, though it seems to mean us no harm if the voice is to be trusted. And its familiarity tells me that it can be.
As we briefly pause, the sound of rushing boots begins echoing up the stairs ahead of us. Five soldiers soon emerge, spotting us and immediately charging in our direction. Astor steps forward, but I grab him before he can unholster his gun.
“What are you doing?” he berates.
“We’ll be okay,” I say confidently.
As I speak these words, the hallway promptly fills with a dense fog, and the five soldiers stop in their tracks.
“What is this mag—” one cries out, but his voice is silenced, like the words have been snatched from his lips and muffled by the thick, obscuring fog that hides him from us.
The two of us are left to imagine what became of him and the four others as the fog then dissipates, revealing an empty hallway in front of us. To my surprise, I am in no way troubled by this. What matters is that we are safe.
Astor takes a step back from me as though he thinks I had something to do with what just happened. His face is pale, his demeanor untrusting like I am in possession of some terrifying secret, but I am not. I simply knew that we were no longer in danger once I recognized the Necromancer’s presence.
We walk carefully, deliberately, back to the balcony above the courtyard. Its floor is no longer covered with beautiful designs, but the seemingly lifeless bodies of those who had only moments ago been chasing after us with such zeal and vigor.
‘You’re in my mind again,’ I think, realizing that the Necromancer can hear me.
‘I never left,’ he replies, making me shudder.
‘You killed them,’ I continue.
‘No,’ he reprimands as though the accusation offends him. ‘I knew you wouldn’t have wanted that, though I sense a growing anger within you that might have allowed for it. But only a fool kills unless it’s inescapable. When these wake up, they’ll know never to come here again, and when they flee to their masters, their masters will learn the same.’
“You can speak to both of us,” I say loudly, stunning Astor.
The Necromancer then emerges from the causeway we came by.
“Very well,” he says, his voice thunderous yet soft as a whisper.
I stare at him for a long moment, unsure of what to say next. If he knows what’s on my mind, and if he really never left it as he suggested, then there is little I can say to convince him that we’re not at his mercy. And he surely knows about the stone.
“You sensed the power of what I brought with me the first time we met, yet you didn’t try to take it,” I say curious.
The Necromancer is slow to reply, instead studying me and then looking at Astor, who stands passively, appearing uneager to join in on the conversation. He told me he’s never before seen the Necromancer, so it wouldn’t surprise me if he defers to me in front of a being so frightening and powerful.
“The world stone didn’t capture my interest nearly as much as you did,” he says cryptically. “I simply hoped you would return with the stone so it didn’t fall into the wrong hands.”
“And who are the wrong hands?” I ask.
“Any hands, really. Its danger far exceeds its value.”
“Maybe some value salvation more than you,” I criticize.
“Still think the stone is about deliverance?” he ridicules. “I suppose I can’t blame you with all you’ve been told.”
I look away frustrated, recalling his words when we last parted that things were not as they seemed, and that he would give me the truth when I returned.
“Are you here to tell me it’s all a lie?” I ask.
“Not all of it, but you would have no way of discerning truth from deception.”
“Enlighten me then,” I say as I start getting irritated.
He laughs, prompting Astor to finally chime in.
“You shouldn’t speak to a princess so disrespectfully.”
The Necromancer throws me a smirk as he replies.
“I would hardly call saving her life as disrespectful, and this isn’t even the first time.”
“Stop pretending you care,” Astor shoots back scornfully.
“Maybe she remembers a particularly troubling passerby in the nighttime? Or the presence in the canals? Or perhaps she has been unaware of the darkness that has been trying in vain to find her every day since she came into these lands? I have kept her safe from the moment our paths crossed, so do not lecture me on what it means to care or show respect.”
His voice grows con
tentious, even malicious, as he draws closer to Astor. I step forward and stand between them.
“The same promise of protection you once gave me applies to him as well,” I order, the Necromancer grinning in response.
“Your tenacity is exhilarating as always,” he continues much more calmly. “I must admit, I do not care for these rangers. Their age makes them think they are wise, but it has only made them that much more ignorant of how things really.”
Astor’s look becomes sour, but to my surprise he keeps himself from returning the Necromancer’s contempt. Instead, he looks at me as I continue trying to make sense of the enchantment the Necromancer has been placing over me.
“The presence Julienne sensed within me in Vanguard, that was you?”
“Yes,” the Necromancer answers.
“How did you do it so quickly, and from so far away?”
“Gaining influence over the mind of another takes time, like I said before, but all I had to do was plant the seed and wait.”
“I want you to take it away,” I insist.
“Be careful what you wish for, princess. I can give you my word that I will leave your mind, but if I remove what has grown, then the reapers, as you have been taught to call them, will be able to find you. And trust me, they are looking.”
I am tempted to withdraw my wish, but no, this has to be. There is no way I can continue forward knowing that the Necromancer is constantly looking over my shoulder.
“You will have to grant me my own power,” I say softly.
He nods and smiles, a look of satisfaction on his face, but Astor