Page 21 of Dark as the Cursed Abyss

“I do not, nor do I believe that the Fates hold only one true path for each of us.” Acacius moved closer to her, pushing Farah into a darkened alcove by the caves entrance.

Power flooded the air, filling her lungs, and Farah began to choke on it. Darkness crept off the walls of the cave, acting as a barrier between the small space where they stood—barely large enough for their two bodies—and the world beyond.

“What are you doing?” she hissed.

“I need your help, and these caves, they listen. She has spies everywhere.” Acacius lowered his voice to barely a whisper and although his mouth moved in the words of the Elliniká Glóssa, every sentence entered Farah’s ears in the common tongue. “My mother hid something many years ago, in the labyrinth of the Mysteries. I do not know where and I do not know what, but it is what fuels the Fates’ magic beneath these mountains since the Olympi fell a century ago. It is the only reason the Eleusinian Mysteries are able to continue.”

Farah laughed, her shoulders shaking and chest heaving as tears formed in her eyes. “The only thing hidden beneath this mountain is a trinket Avra and my father left. A token of his affection. I heard my father mutter about it in his sleep a thousand times.”

“Your father lied. I could feel it calling to me in my final trial, begging me to let it out, let it be free.”

Farah smacked Acacius upside the head. “You’ve lost your mind. I’m sure that was just the trial playing tricks on you.”

His jaw feathered and his eyes darkened. “I need you to believe me. Avra is not your ally, nor will she ever be. Even if you survive these trials, she will not send our fleet nor our armies, I know it. Your best weapon is using whatever is down there as a bargaining chip.”

Someone was clearly dehydrated or overtired, because that was the most absurd thing Farah had heard since she left Nexos. “If your mother never intended to give us aid, she would have sent us on our way the moment we set foot on these lands.”

The barrier to the outside of the alcove dissipated and light returned around them. “In time, phoinix. In time you will see.”

Chapter Fifteen

Chloe

To others in her family, a ball was merely another occasion to gain favor with nobility in both their kingdom and others surrounding Nexos. But for Chloe, balls were an utmost necessity within court for reasons that strayed far from simple politics. It was an opportunity to indulge in the finer things in life—lavish silks, delectable pastries and pristine cocktails, intricate dancing. Often she remained the center of attention when any sort of lavish event was held in Nexos, swaying to the entrancing music and drinking whatever her friends in court or her brother provided on their brief travels through the dancefloor.

What appeared before her now was no ball. It was a ritual of darkness ascending into light. A rebirth of those who dwelled in these halls and dared to participate in the Mysteries. It was madness and yet, simultaneously the most well crafted execution of an event she had seen in her twenty-six years.

Lifting the hem of her skirts, Chloe descended the stairs toward the men and women of court. Around her, the walls were draped in onyx gossamer fabric flecked with a sparkled thread reminiscent of the night sky. She extended her hand out toward the fabric, letting her fingertips trail the soft material with every step she took closer to the main floor of the ballroom.

At the bottom, a guard dressed not in the typical uniform of Hespali, but rather a dress coat and trousers stood. He held his hand up at her for a moment, and in turn, Chloe paused. “Introducing Her Highness, Chloe Kirassos, Princess of Nexos.”

Chloe barely had time to step off the last stair when the guard cleared his throat to announce the next guest. “Introducing Her Highness, Farah Athanas, Princess of Morentius.”

There was no way to describe what emotions washed over Chloe as she turned her gaze back toward the top of the staircase.

As Farah approached, she understood why her aunt insisted they be fit for new gowns when Chloe had brought so many. The southern princess stepped with a light gait as if she was trained by the best tutors on etiquette in all of Odessia. Her gown was haunting. An ebony silk skirt flowed from her waist, hugging every curve. On the side, a slit extended high up on Farah's tone leg, exposing a sliver of her almond skin. Chloe could see what looked like matching undergarments below, clearly intentional, but utterly transfixing. On that same thigh hung a small blade, one she had often seen the princess wear strapped over her leathers. The bodice of the dress was well formed, boning outlined by the stitching, coming to a point on either side of Farah’s chest. The neckline accentuated the curve of her breasts, and for a moment, Chloe’s mind flashed back to the night they spent, how her fingers had trailed languidly over that very flesh.

But the most lavish and soul-enchanting piece of Farah’s dress was not the explicitly captivating silhouette, but the sheer fabric that draped over the silk—the same that bound the entrance to the ballroom in darkness.

The Mysteries in corporal form.

Chloe, rebirth, the heavens on the most sparkling of sunny days. Farah, the night, death incarnate.

She stepped onto the polished floor, her shoes whispering against the marble as the orchestra began a low, almost ominous waltz. Candles flickered in crystal sconces along the walls, their flames reflecting off the onyx drapery in tiny bursts of gold and silver. Shadows danced with the guests as they swirled in practiced patterns, the air thick with perfume, sweat, and the faint tang of fear—an undercurrent only those who had glimpsed the Mysteries could sense.

Farah approached from the opposite side of the room, her gaze locked on Chloe. Every step she took seemed measured, deliberate, as if she were not just moving across the ballroom, but moving through a minefield. When their eyes met, the crowd around them melted away, the music fading into the background of their own pulse.

Extending her hand, Chloe bowed low, and Farah placed hers in it without hesitation. As they began to turn, their bodies moving together in the elegant rhythm, Chloe noticed the subtle tension in Farah’s shoulders, the tightness around her jaw.

“You know why we’re here,” Chloe whispered, her lips brushing against the shell of Farah’s ear. “Not just for appearances.”

Farah’s eyes flicked to the room, scanning for watchers, before settling back on Chloe. “I need to tell you something, but if I do, I need you to promise me no word of it will be spoken to your aunt, or even Markos.”

Chloe tightened her grip, pulling Farah close to her body so that their foreheads almost touched. An outsider would believe they were merely lost in the passion of the dance, two future brides enjoying the last night they had before the Mysteries began. “You can tell me.”

Farah exhaled sharply and her breath tickled the side of Chloe’s face. “Acacius told me there is something, a weapon perhaps, below these mountains, something Avra and my father left there many years ago. That it is powerful, more powerful than death itself. He says we cannot trust Avra.”

Chloe’s stomach dropped. “He’s seen this weapon?”