Chapter 2

With gritted teeth and labored breaths, Leiyn made for the nearest pearl brazier.

Like a moth to flame, they drew her. She needed strength; the esse imbued within the pearls could provide it. Glass could not keep her out.

You think Sharo would keep you down here with ready sources of esse? a taunting voice whispered in the back of her mind. Use your head, Firebrand!

She ignored the warning. Allow fear one victory and it would never stop. Hissing with the pain ratcheting through her body, Leiyn reached the nearest post and nearly collapsed against it. Even with her lifesense so severely restricted, she could feel the lifeforce bubbling within the precious stones. Pressing against her fingertips. Her body ached to embrace it.

Holding her breath, Leiyn reached her mahia toward them.

Agony crashed at her from multiple angles. Her right manacle went deathly cold, numbing that arm; the left flared hot as a forest fire. A strangled scream escaped her as she collapsed to the ground, jerking as if to put out the flames. But there were no flames, no escape from the torment visited upon her by her fetters. 

Her collar constricted around her neck. Leiyn lifted her tortured fingers to pry at it, but it only grew tighter. She scrabbled at it, desperate for air, for the barest relief.

Darkness encroached at the edges of her vision. She sank to the floor, overcome.

Let go, Leiyn. Let go.

Whose voice spoke to her? It sounded like Isla’s, but she had died before Leiyn could safeguard a piece of her spirit. Her mother, then?

Leiyn had no choice but to heed it. Slackening both in body and magic, she lay on the ground and let the suffering have its way with her.

Slowly, so slowly, it ebbed away.

The collar loosened. The fire and ice abated, returning to tolerable levels. The gloam in her vision receded. The ordinary pain in her body reasserted itself, though somewhat lessened for those greater agonies recently visited upon her. Leiyn took in as deep a breath as she could, then coughed, her overwrought lungs unable to tolerate it.

She had guessed this was the purpose of her chains: to constrain her power. Now, she understood how.

The right cuff drains my esse. The left pushes it back on me in punishment. The collar limits my lifesense and the reach of my mahia.

There was more to how the artifact functioned—how the bone links must connect them to each other for their interactions—but her understanding was enough for a sobering conclusion: While she wore the manacles, she could not access her magic.

Almost, she gave up. But what would she do, continue to lie there in that chamber? Even defeated and downtrodden, Leiyn had never lain down to die. She would not do so now.

Back on your feet, Firebrand.

Hissing in breaths, Leiyn clambered upright, bracing against the brazier as she rose. She debated heading back to her room, but that reeked too much of defeat.

Instead, she turned for the nearest corridor.

Opting for the shortest path, she shuffled between the pearl posts and the wall. The statue of San Hugo loomed above her, one hand reaching overhead in benevolent benediction, the other holding the scales of justice that often served as his iconography. She tried not to imagine the ancient stone tumbling down on her head. If it had held out this long, she would be foolish to imagine it falling at this inopportune moment.

 Reaching the next broad opening, she halted and peered down it. Wish though she might for the darkness to lift before her blurred vision, or for her lifesense to not be so confined, the catacombs remained as veiled as before. Monsters might await at its end, but she had seen the worst Unera had to offer. What need had she of fear?

And Belen had said “they.” She had interacted with others down here. Perhaps that only meant their captors.

But it might mean they were not the only two prisoners.

Leiyn rallied her nerve before pressing down the corridor. Like the one in which she had awoken, this one led into murky darkness. The walls opened into several cavities interspersed at random intervals before she could see no farther.

She heard signs of an occupant in the nearest hole before she reached it. Leiyn paused to listen. If a beast, it did not seem a large or active one. The stench of urine and feces emitted from the entrance, overpowering even the must of the crypt. This creature was horrifying in its hygiene, at least.

Leiyn rallied her courage and turned the corner. Her gut tightened at the sight of the chained man hunched in the corner. Even in the dimness and with hair falling over his face, she recognized him. Knew the reddish hue of those Asraichean locks, the heritage of the indigenous people of the Ancestral Lands. A heritage they shared and for the sake of which they had fought at each other’s side.

Swallowing, her raw throat resistant, Leiyn mustered his name. “Rhun.”

The wildsoul did not look up. So still did he sit that she could have thought him dead but for the shallow rise of his chest and the noises he had made before. She guessed at the source of his apathy. 

“Bristle,” she tried again. “Is he…?”

She trailed off. The truth was apparent. Nothing could have separated the wildsoul from his bonded boar.

Nothing but death.

Yet another of your failures.

Leiyn almost sank to the floor again. What good would her pity do him? She tarried in the entrance, trying to concoct words to say to him. In the end, her sluggish mind provided none, and she went away in silence.

Rhun never looked up.

She debated continuing down the corridor, then decided against it. In time, she might acquire one of the illuminating orbs to light her way. Until then, it was better to keep to the light.

Returning to the central chamber, fear of what—or who—awaited her in the others almost overcame her resolve to continue. But how could she hope to escape without knowing her prison? If more victims of her actions awaited her, she must meet them.

Those who don’t act can never truly be. Even deprived of what remained of him, Tadeo still spoke through her memories, his wisdom ever a comfort.

She made past the statue of San Luciana, the Saint’s arms folded over her chest as if in an embrace, and headed into the next tunnel. The pounding in her head had turned to thunder worthy of a titan’s storm. Leiyn squinted through the pain and felt her way forward.

No turning back. Not now.

She heard more signs of life down this passage. Tarrying just past the main archway, she heard what seemed to be a string of mumbled words. Moving as quietly as she was capable of just then, she strained to hear what was being said. It was not a conversation—or if it was, only one person spoke. A gentle glow from the opening told of a light source within. Perhaps one she could use, if she dared to risk the muttering man.

As some of the muttered words grew apparant, Leiyn understood. Prayer. A man prayed within.

“San Inhoa, hear my plea… Shelter me, San Inhoa, shelter your humble servant… I have sinned, yes, I have sinned, but I repent, repent, repent…”

Leiyn forced herself down the final stretch and turned into the first alcove. A man kneeled before the altar. The worst of the dust atop it had been wiped free and replaced by three lit candles, all so melted that their flames sputtered amid the liquid beeswax. 

The knot in her stomach told her his identity, though he did not turn around. Even without seeing the arm she had severed, she had seen Arias di Carille too recently not to recognize his worn cloak and unkempt blond hair.

Leiyn worked her jaw. “Arias,” she rasped.

The prayer stopped. The former Suncoat looked over his shoulder. Though his face remained shadowed, the white of his eye was just visible through the filthy locks.

“They came for me.” His voice was worn and weary. “The night after we spoke. They came, and they took me, and I prayed and prayed. But it did not stop them.”

Arias faced forward and bowed his head again. His next words seemed spoken to the altar more than Leiyn.

“Where did I go astray? Did I sin in helping them? Are they not devils, San Luciana? Are they not murderers, San Carmen? How can they be your servants when they commit naught but transgressions?”

Leiyn would have ground her teeth but for the pain. Even clenching her jaw threatened to make her pass out. She withdrew, leaving the broken young man to his lamentations.

As she shuffled free of the corridor and moved to the next passage, an undeniable pattern became apparent. Belen, Rhun, Arias…all people with whom she had allied. People she had failed. Perhaps they were to suffer the same punishment as she.

Or they were here as her punishment.

The tiered altar covered with wax impeded her path forward, necessitating her to go closer to the center of the grand chamber to move around it. Though the wicks had long burned out, the fragrance of beeswax lingered, a hint of honey to it as well as sublter floral scents. It made for a pleasant change from the rest of her dour surroundings, though insufficient to lift her sable thoughts.

Drip by drip, memories of what had come before her time in these catacombs returned. She grasped at Sharo’s words just before she succumbed to the drowning wave of her titan’s death.

Such spirit, he had said as he stroked her cheek. We shall cherish it.

He wished to absorb her essence. So why had he not done so? She was weak and defenseless. Though it grated on her to admit, she could not resist him just then.

He wants to torment me. Make me suffer for defying him.

Leiyn grimaced. She did not think him above it. But for him to expend all this effort just for that? For all his faults, Sharo had a strategic mind. No—if he meant to erode her will entirely, there was another motivation beyond spite.

He needs to break me before taking my spirit. Make it pliable.

There was a certain logic to that. From what she had seen of the lyshan lord, he remained in control despite his staggering number of souls. Perhaps he only persisted by absorbing them once they were ready and willing to serve. Perhaps even one unruly spirit could topple the ramshackle pyramid.

My last act of defiance.

She forced further speculation away as she reached the next passage. Its occupant did not speak, but Leiyn heard the movements of their footsteps, shoes brushing on the stone, and the faint rattle of metal chains. Limping forward, Leiyn peered around the corner, worried this time she would see one of her comrades.

Yet it was not Teya nor Batu, Ketti nor Ekosa, but a slender woman with ruddy red hair in tangles. As she looked up, Leiyn recognized her with a sinking feeling. Nava, the Asraichean who had sold her and her friends masks in Vasara. The one who had helped them, in small ways, kill the World King—and thus defy Sharo.

Nava stopped pacing and looked her up and down. Her posture was bowed, in part from the chains attached to her neck and wrists. Dark bags huddled under her eyes. Otherwise, though, she seemed as vital as when Leiyn had last seen her.

“You did it,” the mask seller said abruptly. “You killed him.”

With Sharo still alive, the Asraichean could only be referring to the King Baltesar. Leiyn nodded, then forced the affirmation through her tortured jaw. “Yes.”

Nava flashed a brief half-smile. “Look what it got both of us.”

Leiyn shrugged. She had expected death for her failure. Even this torturous confinement was an improvement, for she might still find an escape.

Sharo, let you walk free? He’s not so mad as that.

The Asraichean woman stared at her, long enough for the desire to sit to sweep over Leiyn. Somehow, she forced herself to remain upright.

“You’re trapped with the rest of us?” Nava asked. “Can you not call upon a titan, as you did before? I hear dragons and giant birds descended on the Promenada Palacia that day.”

Leiyn shook her head. Despite knowing better, she tried reaching for her bond to Clouded Fang. She need not have tried. There was no thread remaining, nothing tying her to her titan. And why would there be? She had felt him die. Felt the titanbone axe cut into his spine and hew off his head.

Yet as she reached within, she noticed something lodged in her soul that had not been there before. A dark orb like a lifeless piece of coal.

Ignoring Nava’s hard stare, Leiyn studied this foreign object. She had harbored her mother’s spark since birth and carried the shaman Zuma’s for years now, but this was like neither of those. It did not feel human, but irritatingly alien. Only the anxiety of her confinement and her legion of injuries had kept her from noticing it.

Clouded Fang?

She reached for it, coaxing it to open, but felt no glimmer of recognition from it. The dark orb held no more consciousness than an empty shell. Whatever it was, she doubted it would lead to salvation.

Disappointment nearly slumped her down where she stood. Leiyn reached out a hand to steady herself. Her bone chains tugged at her collar painfully.

It was not him. Whatever lay within her was not her ash dragon. Clouded Fang was truly gone.

Yet another you’ve gotten killed.

“Tideraiser?”

Leiyn raised her head and beheld Nava with blurred vision. Only as moisture trickled down her nose did she realize she wept.

“Sorry,” Leiyn mumbled, then turned and shuffled away.

The scorn of a mask seller was the least of her worries, yet embarrassment threaded through Leiyn as she left Nava’s passage. Almost, it was enough to turn her back toward the chamber in which she had first found herself. Scurrying back to the hole like a rat to its home.

But only one passage remained other than Belen’s. If the other four were any indication, it would be occupied as well. With quick, pained breaths, Leiyn moved past San Carmen’s severe stare and entered it.

She had only just passed through the archway when a familiar clinking and shuffling came from the alcove a score of paces within. Leiyn paused. Those were not metal chains such as had bound the others, but ones formed from bone. Only one reason for that.

Another maha was confined down here.

She did not have long to mull over the mystery. The hunched figure appeared a moment later. Cowled in shadows, they did not appear familiar. Even slouching, the height and breadth of their shoulders was imposing. Where their skin was exposed on their arms and legs, Leiyn saw black dots appear at regular intervals. Upon their face, too, appeared the dark spots, formed into a shape like a stag with branching antlers.

No, not blemishes—beads of jet, embedded into their skin. Only one people conducted such a practice.

An Eteman stood before her. And not just any Eteman, she realized with a start. Ketti’s lost friend, Zaki.

Zaki moved to stand over Leiyn, staring at her with their startling pink eyes, reminding Leiyn of Batu’s albino bear. But Zaki’s hair was black, not white, and though they must have been confined for a season, their curls barely reached past their ears. Though their clothes had been sapped of their enchantments, they remained remarkably unspoiled for their surroundings. Zaki did not seem to have suffered a beating such as Leiyn had taken, nor starved quite as much as Belen. Yet as she had suspected, bone manacles and chains confined them and their mahia in the same ways Leiyn was entrapped.

“Leiyn.” Zaki’s voice remained deep, though confinement had robbed it of its richness. “You are awake.”

Leiyn eyed Zaki. The greeting seemed friendly enough. But considering Leiyn had indirectly led to their confinement and the annihilation of their people, wariness seemed the better course. Even if she desperately needed allies just then.

“Zaki,” Leiyn rasped. She wanted to say more, how Ketti would be relieved to know they were alive, but the pain in her mangled jaw silenced her.

Zaki hobbled closer, bringing with them a strong body odor. They seemed heedless of it, their expression intense as they leaned down. Leiyn almost wanted to back away, their faces mere inches apart.

“Ketti,” they said in a low voice. “She lives?”

Leiyn nodded.

Their expression softened, and they straightened. A smile tugged at their lips. “Good. That is good.”

Leiyn lowered her eyes. Part of her thought she should say something of Solace’s fate. For the first time, she was glad her jaw limited her speech so she did not have to.

Zaki spoke again. “He hurt you, did he not? He and his gallu?”

There was a note in Zaki’s voice that bade Leiyn look up. At the sympathy rife in their expression, Leiyn almost crumpled.

She did not deserve their pity. Yet she craved it.

Leiyn looked down again and whispered, “Yes.”

A trickle of spit worked free of her lips. Leiyn did not bother wiping it away. What a sight she made. What a savior she was now.

Zaki’s hands were gentle as they gripped the side of her face and drew her gaze back up. Their gaze was just as kind, though their features were firm with purpose.

“You will heal,” they said softly. “Even with these chains, our semah helps. But I must set your jaw first. Are you ready?”

Leiyn tensed under their hands, but Zaki did not release her. After a moment, she nodded. There was no escaping the necessity of it.

Zaki’s hands tensed, then moved. Splitting pain flooded her head. Leiyn felt her legs go limp.

The Eteman caught and cradled her to the floor—or collapsed with her, at least. For all the brave face they put on, Zaki was nearly as devoid of strength as she. Yet they smiled as Leiyn fluttered her eyes open.

“Come. We must return you to your chamber. Rest, if you can. We will speak more later.”

Leiyn had not even the energy to nod. She wanted to move her jaw, to see if it was realigned as Zaki promised, but did not yet dare.

The Eteman extracted themself from under her, then pulled on Leiyn’s arm. Leiyn obliged, though her head pounded worse than ever. She might have vomited had she dared to open her mouth.

No sooner had she come upright than a grating sound filled the chamber.

Leiyn tensed and looked toward the clamor. She moved too fast, sending fresh spasms through her face and worsening the aching in her head. With blurred vision, she stared at the central chamber from which the sounds issued. She could only see the source of the disturbance by the flickering light and shadows on the stairs she had yet to venture up.

“They come,” Zaki said, a note of fear in their voice.

Leiyn did not need to ask whom they meant. Many footsteps sounded as shadows stretched away from the staircase. The rattle of armor told of soldiers among those descending.

Moments later, the source of sounds and shadows appeared at the bottom of the stairs. Paladins were the first to reveal themselves, silver and gold armor catching the light of the pearls and setting them agleam. Six in total, they parted to either side of the stairs to reveal a priestess flanked by white-robed acolytes. With her vision conspiring against her, Leiyn could not be certain of the priestess’s identity, but their long, dark hair threaded suspicion through her.

The priestess turned her piercing green eyes on her and smiled. Leiyn knew then her fears were confirmed.

“There you are,” Sister Adelina cooed. “Under my care once more. I need not have feared your threats after all, needn’t I, witch?”

Leiyn stared balefully back. All the acid she would have spit at the woman remained caged behind her teeth. She regretted sparing Adelina’s life now.

Cursed woman.

Adelina favored her with another smirk before airily waving the acolytes forward. “Go about your duties. I do not wish to linger here.”

The paladins remained near the door with the priestess. The acolytes alone moved forward. Just outside the circle of pearl braziers, they emptied the baskets they carried onto the stone tiles. Loaves of moldy bread and strips of nameless gray meat tumbled out. That countless years of dust coated the food seemed not to matter to them. Leiyn’s stomach turned just thinking about consuming the filthy fare.

She distracted herself by watching the acolytes move from post to post, replenishing the pearls that had gone extinguished. Each of them possessed mahia, as Leiyn had once suspected of the Catedrál’s priesthood; they brought no artifacts to infuse the beads with lifeforce, but merely pressed their hands to the glass.

Two other acolytes brought fresh candles to the altar at the far end of the chamber. There, they set the candles amid the layered wax, not bothering to clean first, and lit the wicks with the flame from an oil lamp.

They leave the acolytes vulnerable. No soldiers moved forward to protect the young women. Leiyn looked back at the paladins, observing their easy stances, their sheathed weapons. They don’t fear us. Much. If she could remove her bonds or recover her strength, their lax defense might give them an edge. Enough to escape.

But for her jaw, she would have smiled at her hopeless optimism. But here in the dark, what else could she look to but hope?

Their tasks accomplished, the acolytes retreated to the waiting priestess and paladins. Adelina cast one final imperious look about the catacombs, then issued an order to ascend. Leiyn waited until they turned away before limping toward them.

Zaki circled their hand around her arm, drawing her up short. “No,” they murmured. “Do not draw them to violence.”

Leiyn did not have the strength to pull away. She watched dully as the paladins noted her movements with grim smiles, then ascended after the others.

Only once they were out of sight did Zaki release Leiyn. She limped forward again, not in true pursuit, but only to see what waited above. She had just reached the bottom of the stairs when the grand doors boomed closed. Leiyn stared at them at the end of the long staircase, high above—impossibly high in her condition, though they could have numbered no more than a hundred steps.

Adding salt to the wounds, she heard a second crash following the first. A drawbar secured the doors from the other side. Even had she possessed a titan’s strength, she could not have broken through.

Leiyn sagged, swaying until she steadied herself on the nearest wall. The excitement of the visit had disturbed her fragile health. Her pulse hammered in her skull. Her eyes felt as if they would squeeze from their sockets. Every step threatened to throw her to the unforgiving floor. She doubted she would rise for a long time.

She ignored it all as best she could. Sharo wanted her to give in. To surrender. If all she could do was deny him that satisfaction, then she damn well would.

“Leiyn.”

Zaki was there at her side, salmon eyes scrunched with concern. Leiyn waved them away and levered herself away from the wall, then made her weaving path toward the pile of food. She would recover her strength. Heal. Bide her time.

And when the moment came, she would resist.