Her forehead crinkled. “So...what’s the deal? Surely there are easier ways to kill me than bringing me to the Shadow Realm.”
“He hasn’t seen fit to fill me in. Whatever he has planned, I view it as my duty to protect you. Tonight, you will come with me to the council.” His tone was pure command. “They must understand that you’re not here as an enemy, but as a captive. You must convey the message of captivity through acting submissive. It’s what they’ll understand.”
Sounds like a great time. She crossed her arms, shivering. “Can you tell me more about Hothgar?”
“He is the new Sword of Nyxobas.” Cold rage laced his voice. “And he belongs in the void.”
The cold wind stung her skin and she tightened her fingertips on her forearms. Bael’s gaze flicked to her shivering arms. He pulled the dark cloth from his arm, handing it to her. “Put this on.”
She took it from him—a black wool cloak, identical to his. She wrapped it around her, savoring its warmth, and fastened it with the silver clasp. A lion, just like Bael’s.
“You’ll need to cover your head.” Bael leaned in closer, pulling up the hood. “It is important you don’t draw any unnecessary attention to yourself. And your hair is difficult to ignore.” He turned from her, facing the crater, then put his fingers to his lips and whistled sharply.
A shadow crossed over their heads, and Ursula glanced up. Flying above them, a team of lunar bats pulled a black carriage, fastened to the creatures by silver cords. It looked like a gothic chariot from the eighteenth century.
I’ve either wandered into a nightmarish version of Cinderella, or a hellish Christmas tale, with lunar bats instead of reindeer.
With the whoosh of beating wings, the bats lowered the carriage to the roof, then landed on the slick marble with an ear-piercing scratching of claws.
A male oneiroi hopped down from the front of the carriage, his black hair slicked back off his pale face. He opened the door to the main compartment, then bowed to Bael.
Bael gestured for Ursula to enter.
She tugged her shawl tighter, her gaze skimming over the magic swirling around the carriage’s thin, black wheels. That’s what keeps this thing in the air—shadow magic.
Inside, the indigo seats faced one another. Ursula nestled into the one that faced the front of the carriage. Shutting the door behind him, Bael climbed in the seat opposite. He kept his gray eyes locked on her, and he rapped on the window glass behind him.
With a lurch, the carriage surged into the sky. Through the window, she had a clear view of Bael’s manor. Built against the cliff’s side, it loomed above the crater, a shining tower of glass and silver. It looked like a skyscraper from a war zone. Jagged holes marred the walls, and great beams of metal twisted into the darkness like metallic innards. Thick dust covered some of the floors, like funeral ash.
Her heart tightened at the sight of it. She didn’t know Bael very well, but the loss of all those people must have been catastrophic.
Bael glared at her from across the carriage, not a single muscle moving. “When we get to Asta, you will stay by my side. Keep the hood over your head to cloak your face in shadow. Speak to no one.”
Ursula nodded, half-listening. Asta, with its stunning violet glow, came into view through the window. The enormity of the Shadow Realm astonished her. The crater’s rim curved around them, and thousands of buildings filled the vast space.
She pointed to the stone buildings below. “Who lives down there? In those small homes?”
“They are the homes of the brethren, and the oneiroi.”
“Who are the brethren?”
“Nyxobas’s followers.”
She shook her head. “So the oneirei aren’t all Nyxobas’s followers? How did the oneiroi end up here if only followers of Nyxobas are allowed, on pain of death?”
“Very astute.” He arched an eyebrow. “The oneiroi dwell within the crater because they were here first.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Nyxobas was imprisoned here one hundred thousand years ago. The oneiroi were here first.”
“Wait, so the oneiroi are—” Ursula struggled to process the implications. “They’re extraterrestrials?”
He cocked his head. “They’re not native to the Earth, so I suppose they are.”
The bats’ wings beat the air rhythmically, pulsing like a heartbeat. Outside, Asta shone in the darkness, tinging the gray clouds with purple. There really was something odd about the clouds—the way they twisted and writhed, curling high into the air and then diving down in spinning vortexes. Almost like a living thing.
As they approached, a low humming reverberated through the carriage. Her seat began to vibrate, and she tried to ignore the sensation. Especially since it wasn’t exactly a terrible sensation, but it’s not like she wanted to mention that to Bael. Her cheeks warmed, and she could feel her chest flushing.