Every time I've passed through Stigian's walls I've been astonished at how grand the city was—the sleek architecture, the scientific advancements, the lights, and the loud fashion. Even the single-mindedness of the reason for my first venture here couldn't over-shadow how utterly amazing it was. Stigian is unlike any place I've ever been and now, it's ruins of what it once was.
The shadows of the buildings are like decrepit skeletons against the dark velvet sky. Small storefronts stand open to the elements with smashed windows and ajar doors. The air is thick with smoke, and ash drifts down on us like snow. Bodies... so many bodies litter the streets, torn to shreds by the sharp teeth and deadly talons of our enemy. I thank the Statera for the veil of night, that shadows the gruesome scene, but it does nothing to dull the copper tang of blood.
I ride beside Kyron with Greer and Terro leading our group, and Ulric and Ashavee following behind. The same devastation I feel is written on Kyron's face. We left these people to fend for themselves. How many of them could the six of us have saved if we stayed? We didn't have a clear-cut answer. Chances are that one of us would have ended up in the pile of bodies. All we can do now is hope that the choices we made spare more lives in the end.
"It's too quiet," Terro says, his brown eyes surveying every nook and cranny we pass.
The observation goes without saying. The silence sends icy fingertips crawling up my spine, and I can practically hear the eyes lingering in the shadows watching us. Nothing may be left of this city, but those who destroyed it are lurking all around. They are waiting for that right moment to ambush us and take us to their king. Zek wouldn't pass up an opportunity to make a spectacle of our capture, to make our deaths a slow display of his power.
We weave through the streets, keeping to the narrower passages and the cover of what little structures still stand. It takes longer than it should to reach the center of Stigian, but the precautions are necessary. The shifter birds still soar above, searching for the dead to scavenge from and the living to kill.
Ashavee moves to the head of our group. Her sleek feline form makes her impossible to see when she peers around corners, and her lithe steps are undetected when she steps into open spaces before the rest of us follow. My gut turns thinking about the risk she is taking for us. The Allaji hold loyalty above all else, and she is now a traitor to their kingdom. It doesn't matter that she wants better for them, to make them a productive part of our continent. When she helped me escape, she went against their king and therefore all of her kind. If she were spotted, they would kill her on the spot.
We reach the last corner before the sanctuary comes into view. Ashavee prowls around it and just as quickly steps back while shaking her head. I glance at Kyron as he leaps down from Samson's saddle and calls forth his shadows. They surround him in an ebony cover that rivals the night sky. He doesn't look for long, jerking back to face us. Dropping his voice to a whisper, he says, "The steps of the sanctuary are crawling with shifters. They are either waiting for us to arrive or standing guard until those hiding inside are forced out due to hunger. We aren't getting in through the front doors."
"What about the tunnels connecting it to the palace?" Greer asks.
Thinking of how the Allaji loved commandeering trinkets from ships, I shake my head. "No way. I guarantee you that they are ransacking it right now."
Kyron runs his hand over the back of his neck and releases a long breath. "There is another way in, but it's tight quarters and nauseating."
"Nauseating?" Terro says, with a slight tremble in his voice.
"A sewer pipe runs along the passage, and it's burst a few times over the years. I only used it once when I needed a break from my mother, and one time was enough for me."
I click my tongue and look up at the stars as I mumble, "It must be horrific if you never used it again to get away from her."
Kyron chuckles and says, "I guess you're about to find out. Aren't you, princess?"
The tunnel entrance is in the cellar of a small tavern. Thankfully, this side of the city didn't see the devastation that the central part did, so we tie our horses to posts down the street, knowing the Allaji would never harm a fellow animal. The doors to the tavern are wide open when we arrive. Chairs are overturned on the concrete floor, and half-drunk pints litter the tabletops.
Kyron leads us through the kitchen where uncooked food waits at the prep station by the stove. He yanks on a thick wooden door, and we descend into the bowels of the tavern. Dim lights hang from the ceiling, illuminating the kegs of ale lining the walls and rows of shelves jammed packed with wine and spirits. We reach the darkest corner, and Kyron flicks his hand, igniting a flame in the center of his palm. He nods—a gentle warning to brace ourselves—and wrenches open another door.
The balmy air brushes my face, carrying the distinct scent of shit. I pull my tunic over my nose and force the vomit rising in my throat back down. From the little I can see, the ground ahead is all dirt and ancient wooden beams keep the roof from caving in. The structural integrity of the tunnel is questionable at best.
"I told you it's bad," he says, not hiding the amusement he finds in everyone's disgusted reaction.
"This is vile," Greer responds, sweeping her arm in front of her to herd us all inside.
One by one, we file into the tunnel and trek down the narrow path. The mixture of the stench and the confined space is horrendous. Sweat drips down the back of my neck and the thin fabric of my tunic does little to stifle the overwhelming scent of the sewer. The hike feels like it takes hours with us tripping over the feet of the person in front of us. I would have hated being the people who had to dig this miserable walkway.
We reach a door that looks out of place. The Stigian crest is carved into the wood and the gold paint is covered in thick layer of dust. Kyron turns the handle. The room beyond is dark with flickering lights to brighten the path. And the air... my lungs have never been this thankful for the fresh air.
Taking my hand, Kyron navigates through the long, empty passages. Our boots tap against the glossy floor and the walls feel like they are caving in on me with their black paint. It is not until we reach the main room that the darkness gives way to light.
We step through the side archway and into the grand hall. Two thrones sit upon the dais and the water that was once used for the amplification ceremonies flows down the back wall, unhindered by the monstrosity of a statue that once stood under it.
"Where are they?" Ulric asks, stretching his neck as if he will find clusters of people huddled in the far corners.
"The Allaji wouldn't be standing guard if no one is in here," Terro states.
I tilt my head and turn in a slow circle, examining the colorful images painted on the ceiling. It is the history of our kingdom that every person was taught from a young age. There is no picture of a king who abused his power, no curse cast upon our people. A white ball of light meant to represent the Statera stretches out over the people gathered around it. Those to its right are blessed with brighter rays that seem to pierce their chests and set them aglow, while those on the left only feel the warmth of the Statera above their heads. The Khiros and the Cyffred. The smaller images go on to depict each of the powers the Statera has granted our people, and the benevolent ruler who oversees the syphoning of the dormant gifts. Pliris' darkest moments are nowhere to be seen, including its division. I can only imagine what would have happened to me and those like me if Micah never made the choice to leave and build a new kingdom.
I still at the thought and turn to Kyron. "The catacombs. Borin and my dad would take everyone to the catacombs."
Without waiting for him to reply, I head out of the hall. Kyron matches my stride and gives me clipped directions down another set of corridors. It doesn't take us long to descend into the bowls of the sanctuary. The iron gate protecting the tombs of our past rulers is open. Shuffling feet and whispers eco from inside. We race past the stone graves and lifelike statues of the deceased. At the back of the catacombs, a cluster of people surround a familiar grave. One by one, they enter the tomb and disappear into the only secret passage that still exists between Stigian and Lucent.
I push my way through the crowd and let out a sigh of relief. My dad and Borin help a woman with a baby strapped to her back down the first rungs of the ladder leading blow the city. She disappears inside, and I rush forward.
"Papa," I say, flinging myself into his arms. He is covered in dust and my fingertips slide over something wet and sticky along his arm... blood. His beard is caked in mud and his guard uniform is tattered. He is a bit worse for wear, but he is alive, and that is all that matters.
"Where is Mama?" I ask.
"Her and the girls are in the tunnel."
"And Rowan?"
"Aw, sister, are you worried about me?"
I snap my head to the side to where my brother is assisting an older gentleman with a cane. I stick my tongue out at him, and he scrunches his face in playful disgust.
"Did you get it, Raelle?"
My moment of relief dissipates, replaced by my purpose. I bring my fingers to the Imperium at my neck and lift it for Borin to see. "I did."
I have so much to share with them about the stone, but I don't want to distract from the task at hand. We need to get everyone out of here before the Allaji change their mind and storm the sanctuary.
The people around us step aside, making a clear path for Kyron. Standing across from us, he braces his hands on the edge of the coffin and asks, "How many do you estimate we lost?"
The grim expression on Borin's face says it all. Too many. "The evacuation protocol was initiated within minutes of the first attack. With the amount of people who are in the tunnel, I'd say at least sixty percent of the population made it into the sanctuary before the doors were locked."
Kyron runs a hand over his face. Forty percent of the people not accounted for is way too many. He doesn't need to say a word for me to know he is already thinking about recovery efforts. Just because we didn't see anyone while riding through the city doesn't mean they aren't out there hiding from our enemies.
"And reinforcements?" Kyron's stance goes rigid, like he is prepared for a hard blow.
"I deployed messengers and ordered units closer to Stigian and Lucent, wanting to be prepared on both fronts," Papa says, his lips pulling into a firm line. "Whether the order to march into Stigian made it to the commanders or was intercepted is still to be determined."
"Fuck," Kyron hisses, letting his cool demeanor slip for a moment.
"What are the chances of using the stone to conquer the Allaji? Can you make their ability to shift dormant?" Rowan asks.
I think to what happened with Nikko. It was almost like the stone new that he needed to be punished for is abuse of power. The stone search for his gift and found the source of it on its own. It was then that it urged me to pull and strip him of it. As for the two shifters with him, it was their choice to continue to fight after he was killed. They could have chosen to surrender, and they would have never been stripped of their power. The shifters outside of these walls are a different story.
"None," I answer. "They are following the orders of their king. Even though what they are doing is morally wrong, they're under his sovereignty. Many of them don't know there is another option, and there is no way for me to tell who is killing for sport and who is doing it for loyalty to their kingdom. To strip them of their gift could be considered an abuse of our power."
"Let's try to stay in the Statera's good graces for more than a couple of days," Kyron says.
"What is the use of having the most powerful stone if we can't use it to defend ourselves?" my brother presses.
"The Sacred Gifts were never meant to make one kingdom stronger than another. They are designed to work together, so that the entire continent is prosperous."
Borin proudly nods at my explanation.
Kyron pushes away from the tomb. "This isn't a problem we are solving right now. Let's get everyone out of here, and we will worry about the rest when they're on their way to safety."
A set of stragglers join the group. Ulric stands in the back with Ashavee in her human form. I didn't even think about the panic it would have caused if these people saw a jaguar in our ranks. They aren't the only ones thinking ahead. Greer and Terro set to work organizing the crowd to get them out as fast as possible. As one, we set to work clearing the catacomb.
When only those I'm closest with and a handful of soldiers remain, I set us on a course for a strategy to defend out land. "The stone works," I say.
Rowan squeezes in between Papa and Borin. "Is your gift awake?"
"I'm a Glacio."
His eyes widen and he moves toward me like a magnetic pull controls him. "Do it to me."
I lock eyes with Papa and he nods.
Kyron slides in behind me, and I press my hand to my brother's chest. This time, it isn't so hard. I find Rowan's sleeping power and urge it awake. Within seconds, a massive gust of wind blows through the catacombs, kicking up debris. We shield our eyes until it calms, and I smack my brother on the arm.
"Be careful," I scold him.
"Fuck. I'm going to have fun with that." He steps away from me, staring at his fingertips and creating smaller puffs of air.
"Papa?" I hold my hand out to him.
He hesitates, standing in place and softly says, "I don't know."
Kyron's grip on my shoulder grows tighter. "It's your gift, Abrum. You deserve to wield it."
I wiggle my fingers. "It is meant to be awake, but if you don't want to, that's all right."
Borin places a comforting hand on Papa's bicep, and the two of them step forward. I smile and brush my hand over the side of my father's face before pressing it to his chest. He grips my fingers, and I dive inside him to stir his Statera given gift from its long slumber.