Casimir

No guards man the tunnels.

Only the sounds of destruction from above follow as I wind through the icy walls. The lanterns have burnt out. My breath fans as an icy cloud in front of me as I grapple the walls on either side as a guide, the temperature dropping when the withered wallpaper gives way to bare stone.

My heart skips at each shout and each loud bang from above; everything inside of me screams at me to run.

I push on till I reach the end. Deep underground, it occurs to me that one close by explosion could render me trapped in this underground tomb.

Still, I push the wooden door.

The Kinjri lie in a similar state as we left them. I avert my gaze from the old man slumped motionless against the cell, swallowing my guilt, and march straight to the woman at the end of the cells.

Her hair hangs over her face, arms slumped across the ground. Kneeling lower, my heart pounds.

"Rosemary?" I whisper. She does not shift, shows no evidence she has heard me.

I reach a hesitant hand to her elbow. At my touch, she bolts upright, eyes wide and frenzied as they dart to the source of the sensation.

"I... I don't if you remember, but we talked before," I say.

She stares vacantly, her original weariness evaporating as her shoulders slump. An explosion rattles through the tomb, rendering the wall to tremble about us. Instinctively, I cover my head, but Rosemary barely flinches.

Dust crumbles from above. My chest tightens. I don't have long.

"I need your help," I urge, kneeling at her eyeline. Still, she looks straight through me. "You mentioned a woman called Nala." Her eyes dart to me, clear as day. A shudder crawls down my spine. "You know her."

Her hand darts out to wrap around my wrist, grip deceivingly strong. "We did not know."

"What?" I place a hand on her shoulder. "What didn't you know, Rosemary?" She shakes her head. The skin beneath her hand turns red, but I don't try to break free.

"The boy," she whispers.

"The boy, yes. Please, I need you to tell me what you know about him. He's... he's like a brother to me, and we can't wake him up.

"He was kidnapped."

"Yes."

"We didn't know...

I try to mask my impatience with an attempt at an encouraging expression. It comes off as more of a grimace. "What didn't you know?"

"We didn't know what it would do to him. We did not know he was human."

A shaky breath escapes my mouth as another explosion rattles the cell, clanging her chains. "What did you do?"

"She was barely alive, she wouldn't have ever been normal again but what we did... it killed her, she knew that it would."

"Are you talking about Nala?" Rosemary nods. "She was alive when Samu was here." Another nod. "How did you kill her?"

"The King was torturing the boy. His screams kept us awake. Nala was no longer strong enough to stop the cloud, the King had made sure of that. But he was losing control." Her eyes meet mine. "He does not like when he doesn't have control."

"How do we wake him up?" I demand, my impatience getting the better of me.

But she only continues, lost in her story. "The King thought the Cloud Piecer was the only way that he could control the cloud again. But he did not know how. Nala convinced him that he must transfer her power to the boy, she convinced us. We had to help. We did not know he was human. We thought he was part Kinjri."

"Transfer her power?"

"But Kinjri magic is too powerful for a human body."

"So how do we wake him up?" I demand. "How can we help him?"

"I... I..." She falls still, gaze focusing over my shoulder.

"Rosemary, please--"

With strength I didn't know she had, she shoves me to the side, stumbling to her left as her grip releases my wrist. It takes me less than a second to right myself, spinning to face her. But only her vacant face stares back, eyes wide, lips parted, a dagger in her chest.

I shoot to my feet and to the left just in time to miss the dagger sailing to mine. A Palace guard stands at the entrance to the cells, his uniform bloodied and hair covered in thick dust from the rubble above.

He launches at me, arm raised in the air with a dagger in grip as he lets out a furious grunt. Ducking to the side, I skid amongst a pile of rubble. The guard swipes at my chest, but I duck his arm, taking in his armor cloaked chest and set of daggers stashed at his waist. My muscles strain as I dodge another swipe, the blade briefly coming into contact with my forearm.

He's a shifter. Naturally quicker and stronger than me. All deserters know that.

We have to be smarter.

As he lunges once more, I reach for the chains connecting Rosemary to the cell. My stomach lurches at the drag of her body, but I force myself to focus as his hand darts towards me. With the twist of the chain, I catch his wrist and yank tight.

A screech of pain pierces the air as the silver chains burn his skin. Instinctively, the dagger drops from his hand. I have less than a second before he recovers, regains his instincts. With his free arms, he swipes at me, fist colliding with my jaw.

His punch packs such power it knocks me to the side, the chain wrapped around his wrist causing him to fall with me. Dust rises around us, clouding my vision as a boot collides with my side. I launch a foot back, connecting with something soft and eliciting a scowl. With a tight yank on the chain, I roll to the side, swiping at the dust in the air as I shove to my feet. The world spins. I can't see the guard amongst the pile of rubble.

The dagger glints to my left. Scooping it up, I shoot for the entrance, a rush of adrenaline coursing through me. It powers my muscles, fuels my lungs. It feels incredible.

Bounding up the staircase, I duck a crumbling rock as the earth shakes with another explosion. Light filters through the exploded entrance, the scent of dust and smoke clouding my lungs. Freedom is so close I can feel it, taste it.

Until two figures appear silhouetted in the entrance. I halt, noting the outline of their armor and blade in their hands. My senses go into overdrive as they charge at me down the stairs. I duck the first advance, nearly losing my balance on the steps. The guard's forceful charge causes him to tumble to the bottom of the hall. A shadow falls over me as the second guard closes him, dagger catching me in the forearm. Pain explodes at the site, but I let it fuel me, shoving my own dagger straight towards his neck. He moves at the last second, causing it to hit his armored chest.

He pins me against the wall, a mechanical smile lighting his face as he retracts his dagger from my arms and swipes it towards me despite my struggles.

Inches away, his eyes widen, mouth letting out a small gasp, and he drops dead. I stumble from the wall, my arm screaming in pain as I blink behind him. It takes me a moment to make out my rescuer, a mixture of dust and light from above clouding my vision.

But edges blur into vision as I gasp for breath. Dirtied, sharp features, narrowed midnight eyes. Broad shoulders, and most familiar of all -- that smug tilt of lips.

"Call for a knight in shining armour?" Killian says.

I stare at him, heart still racing as I grab my bleeding wrist. Too wired to be annoyed at his remark, too grateful to be irked by the smug look on his face.

"Let's go."

I follow him up the staircase, back through the rubble. Most of it is destroyed now, the air thick with dust, making for a much easier maneuver even through the shouts and voices that seem just around the corner. I ignore the ache in my wrist as we continue through, eventually reaching the first sign of the labyrinth of tunnels that lead out of here. As we get closer and the dust clears, I notice the figure standing in the shadow of the opening.

The image of her jogs my memory. Thick, black braids cascade down her back, her deep eyes connecting with Killian as she sees us approaching. Cloaked in the same black attire as the first time I met her, I'm once again intimidated in her presence. Power radiates from her in a way Ereon only dreams of.

"Took you long enough," she says. "When Draigh said you went back, I thought he'd lost his head."

Killian merely puts a hand on her shoulder, squeezing affectionately. "It's good to see you, Sanaa."

Her expression softens as she returns his squeeze with one of her own. Something passes between them, a warmth I recognise. Safety. Relief.

"Let's go," she says, glancing at me, expression hardening slightly. "We don't have long before they're after us."

I don't say a word as she turns and heads in the tunnel.

Killian turns to glance at me over his shoulder, expression serious.

"Thanks," I say, swallowing my pride. "Seems you have a conscience after all."

He raises a brow. "You think far too highly of me. Or my conscience, for that matter."

"Something changed your mind, made you turn back."

"Pure selfishness. It really has nothing to do with my conscience." He flashes a grin. "I figured Freya wouldn't forgive me if you died."

He turns and follows after Sanaa. I stare after him for a few seconds before following, my mind ticking over, heart slowing as the adrenaline slows in my veins.

I never liked Killian. Not from the very first moment Trina introduced him to the deserter clan with a pride she never had for me, not when I noticed him lingering around Freya in Veymaw, and certainly not when he kidnapped her.

And yet she fell for him. I could see it in the softening of her gazes, the warmth in her cheeks when he spoke to her, the way she was alight with a fire I'd never seen in her before when speaking with him.

And that's when my dislike turned to hate. I hated him for breaking her heart. Hated him in the aftermath, when it appeared he continued to confuse her and toy with her emotions in Torinne. I thought he wanted to use her. Just like everybody else.

But as he trails ahead of me in the tunnels and the wound at my wrist burns in pain, my perspective cracks and shifts to a place I imagine Freya was in for a very long time.

I don't know what is real, and what is a trap.