A Court of Ash and Necromancy

16. Worth of Knowledge

The sun was rising by the time Mikael reached the Middle. He kept his senses about him as he flew towards the sacred mountain, beneath which remained the ruins of Amarantha's court. He would have to be on guard, in case someone else had moved into the ruins.

He'd heard stories about the inhabitants of the Middle. They were some of Prythian's most terrifying and powerful creatures. They were ruled by no High Lord. Not even Amarantha herself had dared to disturb the inhabitants of the Middle during her reign.

Mikael sniffed the air, but picked up no foreign scents. Only his own and the scent of dirt and foliage. He drew his wings up as he reached Under the Mountain. Mikael landed and unsheathed Alethea. He kept his wings ready, in case he needed to fly again.

A slanted stone archway led into the Mountain. Amarantha's coat of arms, a sleeping dragon, hung from the middle of the archway. It had been almost completely defaced. If Mikael hadn't already known what it was, he would never have recognized it.

He ducked into a long corridor. Ancient pillars had toppled onto the floor. Velvet red drapes hung in tatters from the walls. A once red carpet, following the length of the passageway, was now stained green with mold, and dark brown in some areas. Mikael didn't bother to investigate those spots. He'd seen enough dried blood to recognize it.

Towards the back of the hall, there was another archway. This one had collapsed worse than the first. Mikael sparked golden magic to life at his fingertips, brightening his surroundings. He dropped to his knees and crawled through the sliver of a hole beneath the arch ruins.

When he stood, he found himself in a vast chamber. Pillars hewn from stone held the Mountain up overhead. There were many dark hallways branching off from this main chamber. Ancient light fixtures littered the ground, having fallen from the ceiling. There were cracks in the rock and many more bloodstains.

A throne lay in crushed pieces atop a dais. Mikael approached it cautiously, letting his light grow brighter. Bones lay scattered around it. A skull had been placed on the seat of the throne, a spiky iron crown upon its brow.

Mikael couldn't help but wonder if the bones had belonged to Amarantha. He didn't know what had been done to her body after Tamlin killed her. Even if it wasn't her, the meaning of the bones was evident enough. It was a mockery of power. A mockery of an illusion of power. A mockery of Amarantha.

Umbra tightened around his arm. "Do you know where the archives are?" He whispered to the shadow. The other shadows joined Umbra on his arm. They guided him towards one of the adjoining hallways.

Mikael clutched Alethea in a death grip, holding his light aloft as he entered the corridor. It was narrow and dark. Rats scurried underfoot. Mikael ignored them. He ignored the bones that filled the hallway. He ignored the scent of rotting flesh that filled it. He readied himself for whatever might lie ahead. The shadows continued to pull him forward.

Woe to the traveler who ventures here, an oily voice rasped in Mikael's ear. He stiffened, but didn't stop. I see you. I know you. I know all who enter this desecrated Mountain.

"Who am I?" Mikael asked. "If you know, then tell me."

Son of Thesan and Samanya. Heir to the Dawn Court. Prince of Sunrises. Angel of Dawn. Mated to the daughter of the Angel of Death and the Illyrian Dragon. Mikael's heart pounded as cold talons scraped over the back of his neck. Bastard son. Bastard Prince. Bastard Lordling.

Mikael swallowed hard, keeping his magic aglow and his sword in his hand. He hadn't been called Bastard Lordling in two years. Not since Ze'ev died. Not since Ronan had died. "If you know who I am, then you know why I'm here." His voice shook despite himself.