Page 35 of Dark as the Cursed Abyss

Farah’s stomach dropped. “Attacked?”

“Skiatha.” The room seemed to still. Chloe swallowed, steadying herself. “It is burnt to the ground. My brother is requesting immediate aid—from Avra. From Hespali’s fleet.”

Farah exhaled slowly, running a hand through her hair. “Then we go to her. Now.”

But Chloe was already shaking her head. “She won’t allow it.”

“She has to. If Hades is moving this quickly—”

“She won’t,” Chloe repeated, more firmly this time, though strain threaded beneath her certainty.

Farah stepped closer, frustration rising sharp and fast. “Then we leave without her.”

Chloe looked up at her, something almost pained flickering in her eyes. “You know we can’t.”

And she did. That was the worst part.

Farah let out a quiet, humorless breath, pacing once before turning back. “So we stay. We finish these trials while our allies burn?”

Chloe’s grip tightened on the letter. “My brother’s first message—before we arrived—confirmed something Acacius told you.”

Farah stilled. “The relics.”

Chloe nodded. “If they are real… If they are as powerful as he believes…” Her voice faltered before sharpening again. “They may be the only weapons capable of killing a god.”

The weight of that settled between them, heavier than the news of war, heavier than fear itself. Farah studied Chloe for a long moment, something shifting behind her gaze—calculation, resolve, something darker threading through it all.

“Then we finish this,” she said quietly. “We survive the Mysteries. We find those weapons.” Chloe met her eyes and nodded.

Farah turned toward the door, pausing only when she reached it. The space between them felt different now. She glanced back. Chloe hadn’t moved, the letter still clenched in her hand, her shoulders set beneath a weight she had no choice but to carry.

Farah crossed the room in two quiet steps before she could think better of it, before instinct or fear could intervene. She leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to Chloe’s forehead, letting it linger just a moment longer than it should have. Not heated like the night before, but something far more dangerous.

“I’ll find you later,” she murmured.

Then she pulled away and left before she could decide not to.

Blood trickled down the corner of Farah’s lip and she cleaned it with her tongue, the coppery tang singeing the inside of her mouth. Fists raised, she steadied her stance once more. What could the third trial possibly entail? A fight against other couples who had made it through the Mysteries themselves? Monsters that Avra kept buried deep below these mountains? The first two trials were mental and yet all Acacius had her do these last few days were run and fight hand-to-hand combat. Farah didn’t need help with either of those things. She had practiced them all her life, most especially as a katáskopos.

“Are we finished for the day then?” she heckled, spitting out what was left of the blood in her mouth.

Acacius shook his head with a grin before storming at her and Farah braced herself for that searing mental torture he manipulated her with time and time again since their training began. It was always the last device he chose, once she was fully burnt out, knees weak and power drained. Except this time, her mind was clear and instead his hands reached out and grabbed her by both her arms.

Moving them backward, he laughed with every step, until they were perched at the very edge of the training platform. The cloudy gray sky loomed above and the darkness of the world beneath was now clear below Farah.

Her feet slipped against the edge of the cliff, attempting to gain any semblance of a foothold. Hands clenched tightly around Acacius’s arms she screamed, “What the fuck are you doing?”

The prince’s face lit and he smiled wider than Farah had seen since arriving in Hespali. “I am doing what is necessary for survival.”

“Survival of who exactly? Because I will surely die if you let go.” This was it, then. The vengeance of a man scorned would be her downfall. She’d always assumed she would die at the hands of her father during the war, not being shoved off a cliff in some foreign land.

“You will not die. Well—I can’t guarantee that. You have all the skills you need to survive, my dearest.”

This man was mad. Absolutely mad! She was no god, and she certainly couldn’t fly. “Put me down this instant!”

Acacius pulled her closer for a moment, placing his forehead against hers. “When I first saw you aboard that ship, I thought us to be twin flames, the missing half of me since Kalliope passed. Now I know we are, but for different reasons. You have fire in your heart, Farah Athanas. One that could sink armies and destroy worlds if you choose. You are not bound by the torments of your heritage. You are free. You are wild. You will survive. When the time comes, do not make the same mistake I did. It will cost you more than you could ever know.”

And with those final words, Acacius, Prince of Hespali, threw her off the cliff.