Page 26 of Dark as the Cursed Abyss

Farah was close enough for Chloe to see the determination in her golden-brown eyes. Not just excitement—resolve. If they were going to make it through the Mysteries, they had to rely on instinct, trust, and survival. The deer darted into a narrow thicket, and Chloe sped up, her limbs stretching in unnatural, fluid strength. She could feel the rhythm of the chase, the calculations of distance, the snap of branches underfoot, and she was ready for the kill.

The deer faltered, caught off guard by Chloe’s sudden angle. The wolf lunged, jaws closing around its flank. Farah slowed, watching as Chloe held the animal firmly but with care. She pulled back her bow and let loose a series of arrows. One in the chest, one between its eyes. The forest fell into an eerie stillness, the only sound the heavy panting of two hunters and the low breath of the deer.

Chloe shifted back to human form, body trembling from the exertion, hair damp with snow and sweat. Farah knelt beside her, whispering thanks to the spirits of the hunt as Chloe mirrored her gesture. They blessed the deer, offering their gratitude, honoring the life taken, a ritual Chloe had learned in both fear and reverence. One that was of utmost importance back home in Nexos.

As they prepared the catch, Chloe’s thoughts turned darker. Each of Farah’s stripped memories from the first trial flooded her mind now that they were still and she wondered what memories the Mysteries had taken from her.

“Is it awful to wish that the Mysteries moved faster?” she said finally, voice low, almost swallowed by the forest around them. “Hades is alive and if we don’t gain Avra’s army and fleet, Nexos and the rest of Odessia won’t stand a chance.”

Farah’s eyes darkened, her gloved hands brushing snow from the deer’s fur. “I know,” she said. “And I’m sure Avra can be persuaded. But…” She faltered, gaze dropping. “I still feel it—something Acacius warned me about. I can’t shake it. Your aunt is hiding something. What if she is not our ally but working with my father, with Hades?”

Chloe’s jaw tightened. Avra had wanted certainty, loyalty, clear lines, to have them prove to the Fates that their honor was true. But an enemy? Something didn’t sit right in her gut. “I saw the look she gave you when she spoke of your father. She hates him as much as you do. You really can’t trust her?” she asked.

Farah shook her head, and Chloe could see the conflict etched into her features—the tug-of-war between desire and duty, instinct and reason. “Not yet,” Farah admitted. “Not until we know what’s truly beneath that mountain. And until we’ve survived the Mysteries that lie ahead and she comes through on her promise of an army.”

Sighing, Chloe finished cutting up the carcass of the deer, wrapping all the meat she could salvage into tight parchment to put in their packs for the walk back to the castle.

“We should be getting back. The sun will start to set soon, and neither of us knows what daimons linger in these woods.” Real ones, or those that lived only in shadows.

They began the trek back to the castle, the snow crunching underfoot now quieter. Every shadow between the trees seemed a potential threat, every gust of wind a reminder that the world was not safe. Chloe’s senses remained sharp, scanning for movement, for sound, for any hint that they were not alone. Nothing came but the cooing of owls waking too soon and the rustling of branches each time the wind blew through the trees.

At the castle gates, Markos and Acacius waited, the stoic expressions of teachers and warriors alike. Chloe’s pulse didn’t ease, if anything, it quickened. The forest had reminded her that survival was never guaranteed. The Mysteries, she realized, would test them in ways even the bite of snow and wind could not prepare them for. And she was not ready to learn what the second trial would entail.

Her cousin spoke first, his voice calm but firm. It was always hair raising when he spoke, even when it was about something harmless. Was Farah wrong? Was he the one who actually could not be trusted? “We will continue training separately.” He gestured to Farah. “You need a bath before I deal with you.”

Instinctually Chloe snorted. They both needed hot water and soap and maybe a good rest by the fire, but she knew there was no time for that—not now.

“I am perfectly capable of starting my training now. Have you never gone to war, Prince? This is what your allies will look like,” Farah snapped, shoving past Acacius into the entryway of the castle. Whether intentional or not, Farah’s hand grazed against Chloe’s and the same spark she felt when she saw her descend those stairs at the ball, shot up her arm. “We will continue our conversation later, little wolf.”

As they entered the castle walls, Acacius stared Chloe down with a look far worse than the one he had given her when they first met. It was as if he knew without asking that Farah had told Chloe his secret. And he would push her into the Lethe to get it back.

Chapter Nineteen

Farah

The study smelled of old parchment and scorched wood, a thick, comforting aroma that seemed at odds with the tension coiling in the room. Shelves of tomes climbed the walls, some leather-bound and cracked with age, others gilded with symbols that glinted in the firelight. A long mahogany table ran down the center, its polished surface reflecting the dancing flames from the hearth. Velvet drapes muted the winter sun filtering through tall, narrow windows, giving the room a sense of timelessness, like stepping into a place outside the ordinary rules of the world.

Acacius gestured toward the table, his movements deliberate. “A simple lesson,” he said, voice smooth as silk, almost teasing. “Eight cups. One contains poison. One sip, and it is Fate’s hand. The rest…well, you shall see.” His eyes flicked over hers, dark and sharp.

Farah bristled, crossing her arms. “A lesson? This is a lesson?”

He allowed himself a faint smile, one that hinted at amusement, danger, and something she couldn’t quite name. “A lesson in courage, desire, and—inevitably—fear. You will learn far more about yourself than the liquid will tell you.”

Sometimes Farah wished Acacius would just say what he actually meant. There was no time for riddles when they were in the throes of war. Her gaze swept the room, taking in the ancient tomes, the faint smoke curling from the hearth, the flickering shadows cast against the walls. The firelight painted everything in gold and blood, and her pulse picked up. There was an intimacy here she couldn’t deny, a sense that nothing was safe—her secrets, her instincts, her very life. For some reason, she loved it.

Acacius lowered himself into a chair opposite her, crossing one long leg over the other. “You seem tense, Farah. Does the room—or perhaps do I—frighten you?”

“Both,” she admitted, voice low. Her fingers brushed the edge of a cup. The amber liquid gleamed in the firelight. “And the fact that you’re smiling doesn’t help.”

“Ah, but a smile can mean many things,” he replied, tilting his head, eyes glimmering with amusement. “Sometimes it is something far more entertaining.”

His subtle, dangerous energy radiated from him, the awareness that every word, every glance, could be a trap. She squared her shoulders. “Then I will entertain you as little as possible.”

Acacius leaned forward slightly, elbows on the table. “Careful, phoinix. You may find that the game entertains you more than you intend.”

She raised a brow, lips pressing into a thin line. “I doubt it.”

They began the game. One by one, they lifted the cups to their lips. The tension in the room built with every sip—the faint metallic tang of the liquid, the slow, deliberate pacing of their breaths, the firelight catching in Acacius’s eyes in ways that made her stomach tighten.