Page 119 of Sharpest Court

That word, mother, unlocked the memory as though by the turn of a key. I heard Zeke’s voice in my mind, pained and angry, as he’d said: My mother would scare me with stories about Abner, the god who stripped the specters from naughty Wielder children.

I hadn’t thought anything of the tale then. It had been a horror story to subdue disobedient children. Because to strip away a Wielder’s power wasn’t just impossible; it was perverse in the deepest sense. It would be the violation of something so vital, so indistinguishable from oneself, that the self would cease to exist after its removal. And those left behind would become—

Hollow.

The realization crashed over me, chased by a visceral terror.

Because I’d felt that perverseness once before, in Erik’s cell, under the pull of the compass. A deep, unnatural yanking, as though my specter was being torn out of my reach.

My hand trembled over my pocket, where I’d stashed the compass that had allegedly imbued Saxon’s sword with a godlike power. As I looked wide-eyed toward Abner’s Edge, I now understood that Saxon had taken inspiration from one god in particular. And I also knew, with sudden certainty, that Finbar’s tattoo did depict the crests of Hollow families. But they had once been Wielders, too.

Because with the Unbreakable Blade and the compass, Saxon had stripped away their specters.

And he had created Hollows.

“Are you well, my love?” Erik’s voice drifted from behind me, plunging me back into the icy depths of reality. My stomach jolted as his firm hands settled on my waist, his torso flush against my back. “Perhaps you ought to lean against me. This height can be dizzying.”

I wanted to deny my panic, but I couldn’t; I was breathing too fast, nausea churning my insides. For so long, I had wondered about the compass’s true purpose. I’d wondered why Erik thought he could use it to forge an empire, why he’d Hunted all those Wielders, why he’d experimented on innocents like Marge.

It was because, all along, the king of Daradon had intended to rip the specters from the bones of my people.

All along, he’d wanted to make himself a god.

“Alissa.” Perla’s voice, full of concern, sounded tinny in my head. She hadn’t dived yet, for which I was grateful. I didn’t know if I could attack Erik now—if I could escape—with fresh horror turning my specter to slush inside me.

But as I followed her gaze, I noticed what had produced her concern. Not me but the cliff ahead of us. The Aarai Cliff, from which she would’ve been diving if Erik hadn’t insisted otherwise.

Perla was frowning down its length, where a few globed lanterns had started flickering as though reaching the end of their lives. Only when I squinted, heart racing, did I realize that they couldn’t have been lanterns. Because these lights were sparking, coughing embers out into the air like mini bonfires peppering the cliffside.

I went to step forward, but Erik’s hands tightened on my waist, keeping me pinned.

“I told you,” he murmured, serious now. “Don’t stray too far.”

My skin bristled with alarm as a gust of wind tangled my hair around my neck, carrying with it a pungent, burning scent.

My eyes widened at the sight of the sparks coming off the Aarai Cliff. “Perla, get away from the—”

Erik yanked me behind him before I could finish.

And then a mighty boom shook the earth.

32

A tinny whistle resounded in my head.

I was disoriented, every sensation sharp and painful: the grit in my eyes, the stab of breath in my lungs, the craggy rocks scraping my cheek. Dashiel had seen men scaling the Aarai Cliff earlier in the night, and now, as the air burned with an acrid smell, I knew why.

They’d been planting ithoric.

I couldn’t inhale the stench and yet I couldn’t hack it out with the heft of Erik’s body covering mine, crushing me to the stones. But through watery vision, I saw a pale, slender hand hanging limp on the rocks, powdered earth gathering in the grooves of the palm.

My heart lurched. I tried crawling to where the force of the explosion had knocked Perla down.

Then the weight of Erik’s body lifted off me, and he yanked me up.

I thrashed, scratching at him, my specter flaring out in panicked, shuddering gasps as he hauled me over his shoulder. The force winded me, crushing my ribs; the blood rushed to my head. A tearing sensation lanced my throat, but it wasn’t until the ringing in my ears dulled that I realized it was because I was screaming.

Screaming at him, at the confusion, at the violent horror in realizing that our plan had already failed. Screaming because this was really happening—he really was taking me back to Daradon, to the cell I’d once escaped.