The Midnight Realm, page 5
“You have an illusion. A small gift to all souls entering the Underworld so you don’t go crazy over your circumstances. A bit of normality before you’re judged.”
“It sure looks like I have a body. Still wearing the same clothes I was in when I slit Vince’s throat. Was able to get that dagger from you without you knowing. I’m hardly a ghost.”
Smirking, I sling her away from me. Not hard enough to make her go down, but enough to give us distance. “You’re not breathing.”
“What?” she exclaims.
“You’re not breathing. You don’t have a heartbeat. You’re solid, but you’re not real.”
Nyssa presses her hand to her chest, pushing hard. She opens her mouth, attempts to suck in air. When nothing happens, I see her first sign of weakness as panic fills her eyes.
“I… can’t… breathe.” She stares at me desperately, hands clawing at her throat. “Help.”
I don’t. I let her suffer so she knows I’m in control. Any grace she gets will be by my hand, and I’ll make the little killer grateful for it.
Walking to her, I watch her enter a full-blown meltdown over the psychological mind fuck she’s experiencing, thinking she needs oxygen to breathe when a dead person doesn’t need such things.
I put my palms to the sides of her head. She grips my wrists, thrashing in her delirium, and I bring my mouth to hers.
It’s not a kiss by any means.
I blow breath mixed with my power into her, and the minute it hits her lungs, I feel the change take hold.
Releasing my grip, Nyssa falls to her knees, grunting from the pain of the bone hitting hard against the stone. Her palms press down, and she inhales deep breaths.
I stare in amazement as the real Nyssa McKnight has been reborn. Her true form before she bleached her hair and hacked away at it with what must have been a butter knife.
She throws her head back to glare at me. “What did you do?”
“I gave you a real body. One with nerve endings, blood, and a need for oxygen, which we have plenty of here in the Underworld. You can now feel pain. You can now be hurt. In fact, your body can be torn to pieces—and trust me, there are many creatures here that would love to tear you apart. Now, stand up.”
Sucking in another breath, she rises, and her hatred once again mars her pretty face. I study her critically. “You look much better as a brunette.”
Her hand flies upward, finding her hair long. She pulls a chunk forward over her shoulder to look at it. “How did you know?” she whispers in fascination.
“What you really look like?” She glances at me and nods. “I didn’t. I just called on my powers to return you to your original form, and this is what I got.”
She drops her hair, and her lips press in a flat line. “That’s not who I am anymore.”
“No, I suppose not. You’re mine to do with what I want now.”
“Am I staying here forever?” she demands.
“You’re to do whatever I tell you to do.”
“Will you throw me in the river at some point?”
I grin evilly at her. “There’s a good chance.”
Nyssa looks around, taking in the city of Otaxis across the river before looking back to me. “This is Hell, right?”
“The Underworld,” I correct. “But yes, many from your dimension call it Hell.”
She frowns in confusion. “Dimension?”
“You have a lot to learn, especially if you’re going to survive. I suggest you start figuring things out.”
CHAPTER 6
Nyssa
The collar and chains don’t reappear, but I’m in no way free. Amell turned me over to Calix, who took me back to the black castle. He gave me the grand tour, which essentially consisted of the kitchens where I’ll be working and then the most direct route back to my cell where I’ll sleep.
There’s nowhere for me to run or escape to. The castle is loaded with creatures that look at me as if I’m a tasty morsel, and now that I can feel pain, I don’t relish the thought of being chewed to pieces.
I can’t get a grasp on how things work here. I know Amell is considered king. I see human-looking creatures, but they’re more than human because they’re otherworldly in their beauty. Like, the most gorgeous supermodels times ten. But there are others who are distinctly not human. Are they demons? Reincarnated souls?
And why are there so many inside the castle (which is monstrous)? A city sits across the river, but I don’t know who lives there or what anyone’s purpose is.
What exactly is this Underworld used for since the judgment of souls is handled so efficiently?
I have no concept of time. Calix turns me over to a stern woman named Rhynda. I mean, she looks like a human. No horns, slime, or black glossy wings, but she’s terrifying in her own way. Her dark hair has been pulled back in a severe bun and she has a hardened resting bitch face. She wears no apron or chef’s outfit, but rather a fitted leather ensemble with metal breastplates and a flogger at her hip.
“You are lowest on the totem pole here in the kitchens,” she explains as I glance around, counting five other workers in addition to me. There are five wood-burning ovens with workers baking bread and what look like pastries. In the kitchen’s center, a wooden work table sits under a chandelier of rusted metal, illuminated by artificial balls of light.
So strange.
There’s a massive pantry on another wall, and I can see what look like strange vegetables, hanging hunks of dried meat, and baskets of dried plants.
“Your primary duties are to keep this place spotless throughout the day.”
“How long is a day?” I ask.
“As long as I tell you it is,” she snaps. “You are to serve any noble who requires something of you. They say jump, you ask how high.”
“What do you mean by serve? And what is a noble?”
“Are you stupid or something?” she asks, head tilted slightly.
“Not that I’ve ever been told,” I mutter.
“If a noble asks you to lick his boots, you lick until you’re told to stop. If a noble asks you to strip naked, you strip.”
“And if I refuse?”
The flogger materializes in Rhynda’s hand from the strap at her side, and she holds it out for inspection. “Then you get punished.”
Fuck.
She’s not done, though. She slaps the leather fronds against her palm. “If you disobey me in any way, you get this. If you look at me funny, you get this. If you so much as cause me a moment’s irritation, you get this. Am I clear?”
“Crystal,” I say sweetly with a deferential bow of my head, although I vow to find a way to poison her food if I can.
With me put firmly in my place, I’m given clothing to wear that matches the other workers—a pair of brown pants made of a material that feels like stiff denim and a brown wraparound tunic that ties at the side. My shoes are taken from me, and I’m given none to replace them, but I’m graciously allowed a strip of leather to tie my hair back.
I have no clue how many hours I work, but I’m hating the fact that Amell gave me a working body. I’m no stranger to hard work and can handle a ten-hour shift behind the bar with no issues.
But I can tell by the fatigue in my body that I’ve been working longer than ten hours. Without the comfort of good shoes, I’m limping by the time I’m allowed a small bowl of a tasteless, thick stew and then ushered back to my cell.
A man takes me back to the prison, and I waste no time in asking for information. He’s in his early thirties, I’d estimate, wearing the same type of clothing as me. His dark hair is long and greasy, his pale face smudged with dirt, and he smells. I’m guessing bathing isn’t something that’s offered.
“What’s your name?” I ask as we leave the kitchen.
He walks slowly so I can keep up, given the way I’m hobbling. “Will Goble.”
“Are you human?”
He nods, glancing over his shoulder at me. “The non-dead variety.”
“What does that even mean?” I ask.
“It means that I’m very much alive, whereas you’re dead.”
“How does that happen? How did you end up here?”
Will gives a mirthless laugh. “I was dating a woman who said she was into Wicca. I thought it was cool and all. Turns out she was into a little darker stuff, and I was a sacrifice.”
“Oh my fucking God,” I mutter as I amble along. “So you weren’t killed but… sent down here to what…?”
“It was an exchange. She got power, I got sent here.” Will’s voice is flat. I guess that’s the only way to be when all your joy has been stolen. “I’m the guy in the cell next to yours.”
“I’m Nyssa, by the way.”
“I know. Word spread quickly that King Amell kept you. It’s not really done anymore.”
“Anymore?” I prod.
We head down the spiral staircase that leads to our cells. “When Queen Kymaris ruled, she kept the worst of the souls and forged them into demons. I’ve heard that’s not being done anymore, and the castle does seem to be purged of them, from what I can tell.”
A shudder ripples up my spine. I absolutely don’t want to know what those demons might have been created to do.
“So, Amell is like a benevolent ruler?”
Will turns around on me as we reach the bottom of the stairs. “Listen to me, Nyssa. No one here is benevolent. Everyone here is evil. Don’t undertake a single action or utter one word before you remind yourself of that fact. If you keep that in mind, temper your behavior, you can live relatively easy under the radar. And by easy, I mean working your body to the bone every day, and sleeping on a hard floor at night. That’s the best your life—or rather, your dead life—will ever be.”
I’m stunned by his words. Despite how fantastical all of this has been so far—the Underworld, the Crimson River, a crazy king who might throw me in it on a whim, the monsters I’ve seen—none of it truly seemed real until right now.
“I understand,” I murmur.
Will leads us down the corridor to our cells. I take the time to scan left and right. Most of the cells are empty, but a few hold people. Everyone sits or lies on the hard stone floor looking bored and defeated.
When we reach our prison abodes, I glance around for a guard. The iron-bar doors are open, and Will walks through his, pulling it shut behind him.
“When do they lock us in?” I ask before heading into mine.
“They don’t,” he says, sitting on the floor and leaning against the wall.
“Aren’t they afraid we’ll escape?” I ask in disbelief, looking around again as my mind churns with a potential plan to get out of here.
“Where would you go, Nyssa? The Underworld doesn’t have a front door you can come in and out of. It’s sealed off. The most you can hope for is to escape into Otaxis, but the first fae or daemon who finds you will either turn you back over to Amell, or worse, keep you for themselves to brutalize and torture. Humans—dead or alive—are hated and lowest on the food chain. It’s safer to stay here.”
For the first time in years, I feel like crying. I suck it up, though, moving to my cell and pulling the door shut. I see my new home has been furnished in my absence. A single bucket sits in the corner, apparently a place to relieve myself.
I feel so defeated, I can’t even bother to be horrified. Placing my back against the stone wall that separates my cell from Will’s, I slide down with a heavy sigh. Leaning my head back, I try to reconcile this as my life.
Or rather, my undead life.
Something strikes me, though. “You said a fae or daemon might find me. What is that?”
Sitting just on the other side of the stone wall and near the barred doors, I hear Will clearly as he answers. “The Underworld was established and is populated by Dark Fae. That’s what King Amell is. Daemons are the product of Light and Dark Fae, and a few reside down here with their dark parent. Daemons are different from demons. Demons are created by magic and using dark souls that are sent to the Underworld.”
“I don’t understand a thing you just said.”
“We have nothing but time, so I might as well fill you in on everything.”
I pull my legs up and wrap my arms around my shins, curling in for warmth against the chill down here. I settle in to learn more about my new home.
Will tells me an incredible story about an angelic rebellion in Heaven, after which God cast out those traitors. The worst of the fallen angels were banished to the Underworld and sealed within, stripped of their wings and most powers. They were called Dark Fae. The fallen angels who didn’t actively participate but did sympathize were cast down to Earth, also stripped of wings and most powers. They were called Light Fae.
“You said they were stripped of their powers, but I’ve seen Amell do some magical things,” I point out.
“Many fae now have stronger abilities thanks to stone magic, but Amell has powers granted directly from the god of Life, Zora.”
“Stone magic?”
“From a meteor that crashed to Earth thousands of years ago. The stone had magical properties. Pieces made their way into the Underworld. The Dark Fae nobles had power again, and they evolved over time. They’re not what they were in their former glory as angels, but they’re strong, immortal, and the nobles can wield deadly magic.”
“Why does Amell have wings, though, if they were stripped? Did Zora give them to him?”
“No clue,” Will says. “But he had the wings before he became king, which wasn’t all that long ago.”
“You mentioned Queen Kymaris.”
“She ruled before Amell,” Will replies with what sounds like a nasty taste on his tongue. “Evil incarnate. She almost succeeded in opening up the veil between here and the First Dimension so all her demons could escape and destroy that world.”
I feel like I’m losing my grip on reality. “Amell mentioned dimensions. What does that mean?”
Will sighs. “This is going to take a long time to educate you.”
It feels like it takes hours for Will to fill me in on everything, but without clocks, I can’t be sure. I’m exhausted and need about a million hours of sleep, but I want to make sure I understand everything. The more knowledge I have, the better I can defend myself.
“Let me see if I have this straight,” I say from my position on the floor. I’d long ago laid down, curling into a ball. My long hair feels weird and abnormal. It’s been so long since it’s had any length. “And this is in no particular order… big rebellion in Heaven. Angels tossed. Really bad ones came to Underworld and they are Dark Fae. The not-so-bad went to Earth and they’re called Light Fae. Magical meteor touched down on Earth and was hacked away, pieces stolen to use its magic. With that magic, alternate dimensions were created… sort of like different worlds layered on top of the one you and I come from, which is known as the First Dimension. How am I doing so far?”
“You’re an excellent pupil,” Will replies with a chuckle.
“Okay, so, Kymaris was an original fallen angel ruling the Underworld, and they don’t get any more wicked than her. She attempted to take over the First Dimension by doing a ritual to tear open the veil between our world and this one.”
“A changeling ritual,” he confirms.
“Right. A baby was stolen from the First Dimension, held here in captivity, and stuffed full of dark magic. After twenty-eight years, it projected Kymaris into our world, and she was able to perform a ritual that tore open a huge whole in the veil that separates the worlds.”
“Go on,” he urges.
“Kymaris was defeated by a human named Finley, although she was aided by other creatures. I think you said demigods, Dark Fae, Light Fae, and daemons.”
“And her sister, the human who was held here for twenty-eight years,” he adds.
“Zora.” Such a pretty name. “Who died in the battle against Kymaris but was reborn as the god of Life, and thus death.”
“I think you have the gist of it,” Will says with a yawn.
“What about the Light Fae?” I ask, still buzzing with so many questions. “Where are they?”
“They live in a dimension they created called Faere. Their queen, Nimeyah, was an original fallen but was killed by Kymaris. Nimeyah’s daughter, Deandra, rules Faere now.”
“And why is Amell the king?”
“Because Zora decreed it so, and she’s a god. It’s as simple as that. I’m really tired, Nyssa. Let’s get some sleep.”
“Okay… but one more question.” Will sighs but doesn’t object. “How many humans are down here? I’m assuming it’s mostly fae and daemons who inhabit the Underworld?”
“From what I can tell, there are a handful of us. Those you see in these cells and some who are servants in noble households. Most are dead, though… like you. Which I guess means you’re immortal.”
“And you’re not,” I breathe out, a sudden sadness filling me. It’s not in my nature to care about people. I don’t have the bandwidth for it, but I realize… Will was taken from our world. He has a family back home that misses him, I’d bet.
“You’ll be here forever, Nyssa. At least I’ll age and die at some point. Or get killed by an angry fae. At least I can hope that my soul leaves this place when that happens. I didn’t ask to be here, and I don’t think I’ve ever done anything to warrant the Crimson River.”
“I’m sure you’ll go to Heaven,” I say, although I don’t know Will really at all. But I hope he does.
CHAPTER 7
Amell
Leaning against the open door that leads out onto the balcony off my suite, I stare at Otaxis, pondering the ways I could make life better for the inhabitants. It was a good start, cleaning things up, adding lighting. The night sky that hides the cavern ceiling still lends to the darkness our kind favors, but the jeweled stars add beauty, which had never been important to Kymaris.
Can’t say it was important to me either, but when Zora tasked me with keeping the Underworld quelled of any additional thoughts of uprising, I knew the best way to do that would be to improve living conditions. Next up, I’ll work on infrastructure and commerce to level out the disparity between nobles and the lower caste. Unhappy citizens want to rally for change. The desire for change can easily be fanned into a burning desire for insurrection.
“It sure looks like I have a body. Still wearing the same clothes I was in when I slit Vince’s throat. Was able to get that dagger from you without you knowing. I’m hardly a ghost.”
Smirking, I sling her away from me. Not hard enough to make her go down, but enough to give us distance. “You’re not breathing.”
“What?” she exclaims.
“You’re not breathing. You don’t have a heartbeat. You’re solid, but you’re not real.”
Nyssa presses her hand to her chest, pushing hard. She opens her mouth, attempts to suck in air. When nothing happens, I see her first sign of weakness as panic fills her eyes.
“I… can’t… breathe.” She stares at me desperately, hands clawing at her throat. “Help.”
I don’t. I let her suffer so she knows I’m in control. Any grace she gets will be by my hand, and I’ll make the little killer grateful for it.
Walking to her, I watch her enter a full-blown meltdown over the psychological mind fuck she’s experiencing, thinking she needs oxygen to breathe when a dead person doesn’t need such things.
I put my palms to the sides of her head. She grips my wrists, thrashing in her delirium, and I bring my mouth to hers.
It’s not a kiss by any means.
I blow breath mixed with my power into her, and the minute it hits her lungs, I feel the change take hold.
Releasing my grip, Nyssa falls to her knees, grunting from the pain of the bone hitting hard against the stone. Her palms press down, and she inhales deep breaths.
I stare in amazement as the real Nyssa McKnight has been reborn. Her true form before she bleached her hair and hacked away at it with what must have been a butter knife.
She throws her head back to glare at me. “What did you do?”
“I gave you a real body. One with nerve endings, blood, and a need for oxygen, which we have plenty of here in the Underworld. You can now feel pain. You can now be hurt. In fact, your body can be torn to pieces—and trust me, there are many creatures here that would love to tear you apart. Now, stand up.”
Sucking in another breath, she rises, and her hatred once again mars her pretty face. I study her critically. “You look much better as a brunette.”
Her hand flies upward, finding her hair long. She pulls a chunk forward over her shoulder to look at it. “How did you know?” she whispers in fascination.
“What you really look like?” She glances at me and nods. “I didn’t. I just called on my powers to return you to your original form, and this is what I got.”
She drops her hair, and her lips press in a flat line. “That’s not who I am anymore.”
“No, I suppose not. You’re mine to do with what I want now.”
“Am I staying here forever?” she demands.
“You’re to do whatever I tell you to do.”
“Will you throw me in the river at some point?”
I grin evilly at her. “There’s a good chance.”
Nyssa looks around, taking in the city of Otaxis across the river before looking back to me. “This is Hell, right?”
“The Underworld,” I correct. “But yes, many from your dimension call it Hell.”
She frowns in confusion. “Dimension?”
“You have a lot to learn, especially if you’re going to survive. I suggest you start figuring things out.”
CHAPTER 6
Nyssa
The collar and chains don’t reappear, but I’m in no way free. Amell turned me over to Calix, who took me back to the black castle. He gave me the grand tour, which essentially consisted of the kitchens where I’ll be working and then the most direct route back to my cell where I’ll sleep.
There’s nowhere for me to run or escape to. The castle is loaded with creatures that look at me as if I’m a tasty morsel, and now that I can feel pain, I don’t relish the thought of being chewed to pieces.
I can’t get a grasp on how things work here. I know Amell is considered king. I see human-looking creatures, but they’re more than human because they’re otherworldly in their beauty. Like, the most gorgeous supermodels times ten. But there are others who are distinctly not human. Are they demons? Reincarnated souls?
And why are there so many inside the castle (which is monstrous)? A city sits across the river, but I don’t know who lives there or what anyone’s purpose is.
What exactly is this Underworld used for since the judgment of souls is handled so efficiently?
I have no concept of time. Calix turns me over to a stern woman named Rhynda. I mean, she looks like a human. No horns, slime, or black glossy wings, but she’s terrifying in her own way. Her dark hair has been pulled back in a severe bun and she has a hardened resting bitch face. She wears no apron or chef’s outfit, but rather a fitted leather ensemble with metal breastplates and a flogger at her hip.
“You are lowest on the totem pole here in the kitchens,” she explains as I glance around, counting five other workers in addition to me. There are five wood-burning ovens with workers baking bread and what look like pastries. In the kitchen’s center, a wooden work table sits under a chandelier of rusted metal, illuminated by artificial balls of light.
So strange.
There’s a massive pantry on another wall, and I can see what look like strange vegetables, hanging hunks of dried meat, and baskets of dried plants.
“Your primary duties are to keep this place spotless throughout the day.”
“How long is a day?” I ask.
“As long as I tell you it is,” she snaps. “You are to serve any noble who requires something of you. They say jump, you ask how high.”
“What do you mean by serve? And what is a noble?”
“Are you stupid or something?” she asks, head tilted slightly.
“Not that I’ve ever been told,” I mutter.
“If a noble asks you to lick his boots, you lick until you’re told to stop. If a noble asks you to strip naked, you strip.”
“And if I refuse?”
The flogger materializes in Rhynda’s hand from the strap at her side, and she holds it out for inspection. “Then you get punished.”
Fuck.
She’s not done, though. She slaps the leather fronds against her palm. “If you disobey me in any way, you get this. If you look at me funny, you get this. If you so much as cause me a moment’s irritation, you get this. Am I clear?”
“Crystal,” I say sweetly with a deferential bow of my head, although I vow to find a way to poison her food if I can.
With me put firmly in my place, I’m given clothing to wear that matches the other workers—a pair of brown pants made of a material that feels like stiff denim and a brown wraparound tunic that ties at the side. My shoes are taken from me, and I’m given none to replace them, but I’m graciously allowed a strip of leather to tie my hair back.
I have no clue how many hours I work, but I’m hating the fact that Amell gave me a working body. I’m no stranger to hard work and can handle a ten-hour shift behind the bar with no issues.
But I can tell by the fatigue in my body that I’ve been working longer than ten hours. Without the comfort of good shoes, I’m limping by the time I’m allowed a small bowl of a tasteless, thick stew and then ushered back to my cell.
A man takes me back to the prison, and I waste no time in asking for information. He’s in his early thirties, I’d estimate, wearing the same type of clothing as me. His dark hair is long and greasy, his pale face smudged with dirt, and he smells. I’m guessing bathing isn’t something that’s offered.
“What’s your name?” I ask as we leave the kitchen.
He walks slowly so I can keep up, given the way I’m hobbling. “Will Goble.”
“Are you human?”
He nods, glancing over his shoulder at me. “The non-dead variety.”
“What does that even mean?” I ask.
“It means that I’m very much alive, whereas you’re dead.”
“How does that happen? How did you end up here?”
Will gives a mirthless laugh. “I was dating a woman who said she was into Wicca. I thought it was cool and all. Turns out she was into a little darker stuff, and I was a sacrifice.”
“Oh my fucking God,” I mutter as I amble along. “So you weren’t killed but… sent down here to what…?”
“It was an exchange. She got power, I got sent here.” Will’s voice is flat. I guess that’s the only way to be when all your joy has been stolen. “I’m the guy in the cell next to yours.”
“I’m Nyssa, by the way.”
“I know. Word spread quickly that King Amell kept you. It’s not really done anymore.”
“Anymore?” I prod.
We head down the spiral staircase that leads to our cells. “When Queen Kymaris ruled, she kept the worst of the souls and forged them into demons. I’ve heard that’s not being done anymore, and the castle does seem to be purged of them, from what I can tell.”
A shudder ripples up my spine. I absolutely don’t want to know what those demons might have been created to do.
“So, Amell is like a benevolent ruler?”
Will turns around on me as we reach the bottom of the stairs. “Listen to me, Nyssa. No one here is benevolent. Everyone here is evil. Don’t undertake a single action or utter one word before you remind yourself of that fact. If you keep that in mind, temper your behavior, you can live relatively easy under the radar. And by easy, I mean working your body to the bone every day, and sleeping on a hard floor at night. That’s the best your life—or rather, your dead life—will ever be.”
I’m stunned by his words. Despite how fantastical all of this has been so far—the Underworld, the Crimson River, a crazy king who might throw me in it on a whim, the monsters I’ve seen—none of it truly seemed real until right now.
“I understand,” I murmur.
Will leads us down the corridor to our cells. I take the time to scan left and right. Most of the cells are empty, but a few hold people. Everyone sits or lies on the hard stone floor looking bored and defeated.
When we reach our prison abodes, I glance around for a guard. The iron-bar doors are open, and Will walks through his, pulling it shut behind him.
“When do they lock us in?” I ask before heading into mine.
“They don’t,” he says, sitting on the floor and leaning against the wall.
“Aren’t they afraid we’ll escape?” I ask in disbelief, looking around again as my mind churns with a potential plan to get out of here.
“Where would you go, Nyssa? The Underworld doesn’t have a front door you can come in and out of. It’s sealed off. The most you can hope for is to escape into Otaxis, but the first fae or daemon who finds you will either turn you back over to Amell, or worse, keep you for themselves to brutalize and torture. Humans—dead or alive—are hated and lowest on the food chain. It’s safer to stay here.”
For the first time in years, I feel like crying. I suck it up, though, moving to my cell and pulling the door shut. I see my new home has been furnished in my absence. A single bucket sits in the corner, apparently a place to relieve myself.
I feel so defeated, I can’t even bother to be horrified. Placing my back against the stone wall that separates my cell from Will’s, I slide down with a heavy sigh. Leaning my head back, I try to reconcile this as my life.
Or rather, my undead life.
Something strikes me, though. “You said a fae or daemon might find me. What is that?”
Sitting just on the other side of the stone wall and near the barred doors, I hear Will clearly as he answers. “The Underworld was established and is populated by Dark Fae. That’s what King Amell is. Daemons are the product of Light and Dark Fae, and a few reside down here with their dark parent. Daemons are different from demons. Demons are created by magic and using dark souls that are sent to the Underworld.”
“I don’t understand a thing you just said.”
“We have nothing but time, so I might as well fill you in on everything.”
I pull my legs up and wrap my arms around my shins, curling in for warmth against the chill down here. I settle in to learn more about my new home.
Will tells me an incredible story about an angelic rebellion in Heaven, after which God cast out those traitors. The worst of the fallen angels were banished to the Underworld and sealed within, stripped of their wings and most powers. They were called Dark Fae. The fallen angels who didn’t actively participate but did sympathize were cast down to Earth, also stripped of wings and most powers. They were called Light Fae.
“You said they were stripped of their powers, but I’ve seen Amell do some magical things,” I point out.
“Many fae now have stronger abilities thanks to stone magic, but Amell has powers granted directly from the god of Life, Zora.”
“Stone magic?”
“From a meteor that crashed to Earth thousands of years ago. The stone had magical properties. Pieces made their way into the Underworld. The Dark Fae nobles had power again, and they evolved over time. They’re not what they were in their former glory as angels, but they’re strong, immortal, and the nobles can wield deadly magic.”
“Why does Amell have wings, though, if they were stripped? Did Zora give them to him?”
“No clue,” Will says. “But he had the wings before he became king, which wasn’t all that long ago.”
“You mentioned Queen Kymaris.”
“She ruled before Amell,” Will replies with what sounds like a nasty taste on his tongue. “Evil incarnate. She almost succeeded in opening up the veil between here and the First Dimension so all her demons could escape and destroy that world.”
I feel like I’m losing my grip on reality. “Amell mentioned dimensions. What does that mean?”
Will sighs. “This is going to take a long time to educate you.”
It feels like it takes hours for Will to fill me in on everything, but without clocks, I can’t be sure. I’m exhausted and need about a million hours of sleep, but I want to make sure I understand everything. The more knowledge I have, the better I can defend myself.
“Let me see if I have this straight,” I say from my position on the floor. I’d long ago laid down, curling into a ball. My long hair feels weird and abnormal. It’s been so long since it’s had any length. “And this is in no particular order… big rebellion in Heaven. Angels tossed. Really bad ones came to Underworld and they are Dark Fae. The not-so-bad went to Earth and they’re called Light Fae. Magical meteor touched down on Earth and was hacked away, pieces stolen to use its magic. With that magic, alternate dimensions were created… sort of like different worlds layered on top of the one you and I come from, which is known as the First Dimension. How am I doing so far?”
“You’re an excellent pupil,” Will replies with a chuckle.
“Okay, so, Kymaris was an original fallen angel ruling the Underworld, and they don’t get any more wicked than her. She attempted to take over the First Dimension by doing a ritual to tear open the veil between our world and this one.”
“A changeling ritual,” he confirms.
“Right. A baby was stolen from the First Dimension, held here in captivity, and stuffed full of dark magic. After twenty-eight years, it projected Kymaris into our world, and she was able to perform a ritual that tore open a huge whole in the veil that separates the worlds.”
“Go on,” he urges.
“Kymaris was defeated by a human named Finley, although she was aided by other creatures. I think you said demigods, Dark Fae, Light Fae, and daemons.”
“And her sister, the human who was held here for twenty-eight years,” he adds.
“Zora.” Such a pretty name. “Who died in the battle against Kymaris but was reborn as the god of Life, and thus death.”
“I think you have the gist of it,” Will says with a yawn.
“What about the Light Fae?” I ask, still buzzing with so many questions. “Where are they?”
“They live in a dimension they created called Faere. Their queen, Nimeyah, was an original fallen but was killed by Kymaris. Nimeyah’s daughter, Deandra, rules Faere now.”
“And why is Amell the king?”
“Because Zora decreed it so, and she’s a god. It’s as simple as that. I’m really tired, Nyssa. Let’s get some sleep.”
“Okay… but one more question.” Will sighs but doesn’t object. “How many humans are down here? I’m assuming it’s mostly fae and daemons who inhabit the Underworld?”
“From what I can tell, there are a handful of us. Those you see in these cells and some who are servants in noble households. Most are dead, though… like you. Which I guess means you’re immortal.”
“And you’re not,” I breathe out, a sudden sadness filling me. It’s not in my nature to care about people. I don’t have the bandwidth for it, but I realize… Will was taken from our world. He has a family back home that misses him, I’d bet.
“You’ll be here forever, Nyssa. At least I’ll age and die at some point. Or get killed by an angry fae. At least I can hope that my soul leaves this place when that happens. I didn’t ask to be here, and I don’t think I’ve ever done anything to warrant the Crimson River.”
“I’m sure you’ll go to Heaven,” I say, although I don’t know Will really at all. But I hope he does.
CHAPTER 7
Amell
Leaning against the open door that leads out onto the balcony off my suite, I stare at Otaxis, pondering the ways I could make life better for the inhabitants. It was a good start, cleaning things up, adding lighting. The night sky that hides the cavern ceiling still lends to the darkness our kind favors, but the jeweled stars add beauty, which had never been important to Kymaris.
Can’t say it was important to me either, but when Zora tasked me with keeping the Underworld quelled of any additional thoughts of uprising, I knew the best way to do that would be to improve living conditions. Next up, I’ll work on infrastructure and commerce to level out the disparity between nobles and the lower caste. Unhappy citizens want to rally for change. The desire for change can easily be fanned into a burning desire for insurrection.
