He had expected his life to end in a tale of dirt and suffocation, but to Arlon's surprise, he did not die. The shadows that bound him from head to toe continued to drag him through the soil until it gave way beneath him and he fell into a narrow tunnel.
His head collided with the ground and black spots danced across his vision as he attempted to blink it back into focus. Arlon tensed as mangled corpses staggered towards him, then halted and stared down at him with unseeing eyes and empty sockets.
He pushed his magic towards them, but it recoiled instantly. There was no mind to take within these creatures. They were as dead as these corpses should've been.
Arlon struggled against his bonds, trying to reach one of the blades tucked in his boot, but the shadows only squeezed tighter. He gasped as air pushed its way out of his lungs, then sucked down a deep breath when the pressure on his chest eased.
The corpses began to drift apart, clearing a path for another approaching figure. Arlon narrowed his eyes, straining to see through the darkness. This person was also a corpse, but he looked...fresher, than the others.
His skin was still in one piece, although an unusual shade of gray. His gaze was hazy and his hair was limp, with a few missing patches of scalp, but he showed no other signs of decay. Arlon's gaze fell to the object in his grasp. His heart thudded a warning, but one he could not heed.
The corpse's cracked lips parted and a breathless, rasping voice emerged. "My Lord is expecting you, Deimen. We should not keep him waiting." The words were jagged and slurred, as though spoken by someone who had only recently learned to talk. "Your power is useless on us, but the Master requires precautions. He bids me to give you this gift."
He raised his pale hands, presenting the mask. Arlon's breath caught and his heart pounded faster. He didn't have to see clearly to recognize what that mask was made of. What it was designed to do.
Cragged stone and iron had been forged into a faceless plate engraved with familiar runes. It was the same material used on the Prince's tomb. A material only Noxbane had been able to break. A material that would render him powerless, even more so than he already was.
There were only a few openings where a nose would be to allow the wearer to breathe. There were no eye holes. Its creator knew his weakness. He had to be able to see his targets. If he couldn't see them, there was no controlling them.
This attack had not been random. They had been targeted. Because this mask...it had been made for him. Arlon began to struggle anew as the corpse carried the mask towards him, one dooming step at a time.
His shadowy chains tightened until he was gasping for breath once more, but he refused to stay still. Like Hel he'd accept this without a fight. Whatever Astaroth wanted from him, he wouldn't get it easily. He hadn't gotten what he wanted from his parents, and Arlon would not fail them this time.
The corpse halted beside him and extended the mask. Arlon couldn't hide the shudder that ran through him. The mask descended, and a cold burn stretched through his face as it touched his skin. Straps tightened on the back of his head, catching his hair in some areas and pulling at it painfully.
But that pain was nothing compared to the endless burn racing through his face and down his neck. Cold and stabbing, like an onset of frostbite. He gritted his teeth but a scream bubbled in his throat.
The mask swallowed the sound. He was not only blind and powerless, but silenced as well. He understood now what Tarion had gone through during his imprisonments. If he ever saw the Prince again, he would owe him at least one apology.
His breath quickened into panicked gasps, but Arlon refused to show any other signs of fear. He would not allow Astaroth any semblance of satisfaction when he was brought before him. He would not arrive screaming, sobbing, and begging for his life.
He would bear this and he would use it. They were taking him to Astaroth. If by some miracle he could escape, he'd be able to tell Morana exactly where the dark Lord was hiding. Their search would be over.
The corpses began to move around him, and then he was being dragged across the ground. Only one other thought managed to cut through his pain-hazed mind. At least Neeri had escaped. She wouldn't be forced to face Astaroth again, and she wasn't here now, experiencing her own form of torture.
He could bear this for that reason. He could bear this because it meant she didn't have to. Arlon managed to draw one deep breath, though it shuddered with pain. He clenched his jaw against the burning and focused on taking one breath after another. He could bear this, and he would.
•༻☽☾༺•
Neeri ran until her Fae legs threatened to give out beneath her. By that time, she'd recovered herself enough to shift, so she continued running as her wolf. She didn't stop once. Not to rest, not to drink, not to eat. She kept running, flying as fast as her legs could carry her, until a black city appeared in the distance.
A shadow fell across her path, almost sending her stumbling in horror, but she managed to look up before fear overwhelmed her. A large hawk wheeled overhead and gave a shrill cry, then launched itself towards the city. Another Shifter, likely a scout going to report her arrival.
Sure enough, Morana and Tarion appeared at the city gates in a flash of light even before Neeri had reached it. She put on one last burst of speed and skidded to a halt in front of them. She shuddered into her Fae form and slumped to the ground, every inch of her body trembling with exhaustion.
"Neeri!" Morana exclaimed. She sheathed Noxbane at her hip then dropped to her knees beside her. "What is it? What happened?" Morana's wide gray gaze peered past her. "Where's Arlon?"
"We were attacked," Neeri panted, the words weak and shaky with her lack of breath. "The Corrupted Fae burial site near Durga's How. Corpses and shadows. They...they took Arlon!"
The words gushed out of her, almost unintelligible. "There were dozens of them. We tried to fight them off but then they were overwhelming us and... Arlon forced me to run and they dragged him underground."
"What?" Morana gripped her shoulders firmly. "Neeri, take a breath. You're not making any sense."
She obediently gulped down a few deep breaths, then attempted to tell her story again. Morana and Tarion listened in stunned silence as she explained how the corpses had attacked them in the graveyard. They shared horrified glances when she mentioned the shadows that seemed to be controlling the bodies, and their horror only grew when Neeri told of Arlon's capture.
"They dragged him down into one of the graves and the dirt closed over them," Neeri finished. "I don't know if he's even still alive."
"It had to have been deliberate," Tarion surmised. "If those corpses really were being controlled by Astaroth's shadows, he wouldn't have revealed them to just anyone. He must've been watching you and knew you were coming to help us." He pinned a piercing garnet gaze on Neeri. "You must know something he doesn't want us to find out."
"Not here," Morana interceded before he could say anything more.
She offered a hand to Neeri and Tarion touched her shoulder as she drew Noxbane. Neeri squeezed her eyes shut and clung to Morana's hand while wind roared around her. She didn't open her eyes until she felt a cool marble floor beneath her.
Then Morana's arms were around her, helping her over to a settee. Her friend crouched in front of her, resting their still clasped hands on Neeri's knee. Tarion hovered behind his mate, a wary gleam in his eyes.
"What do you know?" He asked, the words urgent, but gentle.
"We found an abandoned temple of Hadeon on our way here," Neeri began.
She described the decrepit temple in detail, including the parts of it that had triggered her hidden memory. Morana tightened her grip on Neeri's hand when she began to recount the memory itself. Tarion's expression shifted from wariness to sorrow and sympathy.
Once she'd finished with the main parts of the tale, Neeri continued, "Arlon said he thought I didn't remember because it was so traumatic that my mind blocked it, but I've thought about it since."
"I don't even have a scar from it, so Astaroth must have had me very thoroughly healed. Maybe he did something to make me forget. I don't think he would've wanted anyone else to know how he planned on coming back."
"Do you think Gaelen knew?" Morana asked.
Neeri shook her head. "Astaroth knew that Gaelen was protective of me. He specifically told Rhidian to leave me in one piece and make sure Gaelen had no way of knowing what he had done to me. He wouldn't have let him know about that either."
Tarion remained unconvinced. "Would he know about this chamber?"
"I don't know. You could question him, but we have to help Arlon now."
"We will," Morana promised. She glanced back at her mate. "I'll go back to the gravesite with Noxbane and see if I can find any signs of Arlon or where they might be going."
"If they took him underground and he's alive, there might be tunnels they dragged him into. Maybe the same ones we've been looking for."
"I'll look for those too. If you're able, you should stay here and start looking for this temple."
Tarion shook his head abruptly. "I'm not letting you go to that cursed gravesite by yourself!"
"You have to find the temple," Neeri cut in before either of them had a chance to say anything more. "I know I saw books in there. They could have the answers you've been looking for. I'll go with Morana and then we'll come back and help you."
Tarion pursed his lips but raised no further protests. "Do you have any idea where I should start looking?"
"It had to be deep within the palace if no one heard my screaming."
"The dungeons are the lowest point in the palace and we've already searched them."
"What about beneath them?" Tarion blinked in surprise and Morana faced Neeri as well, her interest piqued. "It would make sense," Neeri stammered.
"If he needed to hide something and everyone assumed the dungeons were where the palace ended, no one would think to look beneath them. And if they did happen to hear screams while they were down there, they would just assume they were from another cell block."
"A hidden entrance," Tarion murmured to himself.
"Can you handle it?" Morana asked gently, releasing Neeri's hand to stand and cup her mate's cheek in her palm.
Tarion gave a curt nod. "I'll try."
"I'll be quick." Neeri lowered her gaze as Morana pressed her lips to his. She stood only when Tarion's footsteps left the room and faded down the hall. "I can go by myself," Morana offered. "You look exhausted."
"I'll rest when Arlon is safe," Neeri replied.
Morana drew her into a brief, but tight embrace. "He'll be all right. We'll find him. I promise." Then Noxbane sliced through the air, creating a portal that carried them right back to the gravesite.