Heir of the Underground

Chapter 13: Leviathan

"Just open the door."

Leviathan looked on as Aurelia stood before him, utterly motionless. She faced the door to Kassius's study, her hand frozen on the doorknob, refusing to budge.

"I can't," she grieved, heaving an exasperated sigh. "I just can't do it." Groaning, she ripped her hand off the knob. It contracted to her side, as though she had burned by the sting of hot coals or cut by the blade of a sharpened knife.

Leviathan took a deep breath, suppressing the growing frustration that bubbled up within him—lava rising in a volcano. "Then let me open the door," he offered, calmly, assuredly. While Aurelia had been standing there, debating her options and struggling to make a decision, Leviathan had already made his. And he was running out of ways—and the patience needed—to convince her to get on board with his plan.

Iv was a risky way to fact check. He could cut bad deals, ones that tipped the balance in his favor. Often, a meeting with him would end with a dead Fey and a soul in the old crow's belly. That, or the soul would become a shiny ornament hung on a branch of the crow's tree, to glitter eternally. So why go to him when she could go straight to the source? To Kassius.

He had brought Aurelia to the Underground, thinking her to be something that she wasn't. And when he realized his mistake, he allowed himself to be thrown back into a torrent of grief, back to those lonely nights, locked in his study to wallow, ruminate, and theorize.

But now, this dream, this memory of the past, with his mother, his sibling, the guards in Rheolaeth, it posed the possibility that finding Aurelia wasn't a mistake. That Kassius was onto something and had no reason to sulk.

Growing restless and eager, Leviathan took a step forward, reaching around Aurelia and towards the doorknob. But she blocked his hand before he could grab it. And, on a quick heel, swiveled around, her purple tresses whipping along with her.

"Don't," she commanded.

Don't? What did she mean by "don't"?

"Why not?" Leviathan practically spat back. Did she not want to help Kassius? Didn't she want to see him be happy, his family as whole as it could be? "You have something that could help him. He needs to know. He has a right to know."

Aurelia sighed, her honeyed eyes dropping to the floor. "He does. And I do want to help him. But...what if I'm wrong? What if my brain was just making it all up and it means nothing? I've already upset him once with my presence. I don't want to do it again." There was a quaver to her words, and Leviathan was almost certain that he heard her sniffle. Holding back tears, perhaps?

Silence. It hung in the air between them as Leviathan thought of what to say. Of how to respond to the girl before him. Consoling people was never his forte. And yet, here she was, anxious and upset and the most indecisive person he'd ever met. What was he to say to encourage her into telling Kassius anyway—that a risk was worth it? That he wanted to take any chance he could to help his friend? That he was tired of seeing Kassius hide away, separate from the real world?

That the only thing he wanted for himself was to see Kassius smile again?

Would any of those words mean anything to her?

He wasn't sure. But it was worth a try.

He opened his mouth to speak, to repeat back every thought that had run through his head during those moments of silence, when suddenly, the door opened.

Aurelia turned back around, and Leviathan looked on as Kassius came into view, standing between the door frame, his skin ghostlier than ever, eyes a dimmed violet, and crimson-tinged hair an utter mess.