Chapter 62: A Stranger at the Wall

Kaan is already walking before I manage to pull myself back together.

There’s a restless energy in every step he takes, his eyes never leaving the city in the distance. The closer we get, the faster he walks, as though he’s afraid it might disappear before he reaches it.

“I knew it,” he mutters.

A quiet laugh slips from him. “I knew I wasn’t mad. I knew I’d find it.”

I don’t answer. I just follow him down the hillside.

The city grows larger with every step, impossibly big beneath the light of the three suns. It’s so imposing that fear crawls through my chest. The tips of my fingers turn cold, but I hide them beneath my arms, seeking warmth.

The grass beneath our feet is clean until we reach a road. It’s smooth white stone that curves with the rise and fall of the ground. Narrow channels of crystal-clear water run alongside us, disappearing beneath the ground before surfacing again farther ahead.

There are no wagon tracks or hoofprints where you would expect to see them. It makes me wonder just how alive this city really is. My stomach riots at the idea of it being filled with only the dead.

It’s a mixture of excitement and dread.

I’m not entirely sure I am everything the prophecy needs me to be. Not sure I am ready to face the future that the prophecy demands.

As we continue, the road begins to change. Hairline fractures spread across the stone, and the water flowing beside us slows to a trickle. Some channels are completely dry.

The silver trees growing along the roadside become fewer, their leaves thinner than those farther up the hill. I glance toward the city again. It’s still impossibly far away, even farther than I’d realized.

But something else catches my eyes. Beyond the next hills, I can make out buildings that sit outside the city walls. They’re not shining like the translucent towers, but they’re there.

Small homes built from white stone, patches of wood trickled throughout. The edges are chipped, as if time has taken away what would otherwise be seamless, straight edge architecture.

Smoke curls lazily from narrow chimneys, the smell filling my lungs.

My breath leaves me, my body craving the warmth of a fire. It’s not cold, but Kaan and I have been taking shelter under trees. Sleeping on hard ground. What I crave is a warm meal and a place to sleep that isn’t dirt or stone.

We walk closer, the sound of voices and laughter making its way toward us.

Children run around, hiding behind walls and screaming as they find each other, bursting into laughs. I can’t help but smile at the sound, at the sight. The freedom they all express at experiencing childhood so freely is a punch to the heart.

Especially as I see their heads of dark, black hair.

I never lived this back home, never even saw it in others except for that night I left the house. The fact that I could have lived a normal, happy life here suddenly makes me aware of how much was taken from me.

Still, I’m hesitant about who I will meet and how they will react when I get to the city.

To the palace.

Where, apparently, my parents reside.

Kaan shifts now, slowing his pace so that he walks beside me. He curls an arm around my waist, and I bite down my tongue to stop the bile in my throat. I stay still, refusing to cause a scene.

At first, it looks no different from any other village. But I begin noticing the things that don’t make sense. Above every doorway hangs a clear glass orb. They shine with a light, some pulsing, some stable.

I frown.

There isn’t a single flame inside them. No candle, no oil, or smoke. How are they making light?

My gaze lingers until Kaan’s voice snaps me forward, his arm tightening around my waist. “Don’t linger, we must get to the palace.”

I tear my eyes away. A little farther on, a young girl sits cross-legged outside her home. She cradles something small in her hands that glows enough for it to illuminate her face. She taps it with her thumb, and the light flickers.

Everywhere I look, I see more things I don’t understand.

Windows that shine without lanterns. Glass tubes carrying water high above the streets. Metal platforms suspended in the air, perfectly still, though no ropes or beams hold them aloft. I don’t know how any of it works.

A breeze brushes across my face, and every silver flower planted beside the road turns toward me at once. Frost spreads across their petals, the air turning rigidly cold.

I stop, feeling a deep hum in my bones.

I don’t know what it is, don’t know why the ice won’t melt. It makes it hard to breathe, hard to focus on.

When I look up, everyone’s eyes are on me.

All the children, women, and men. Some even step outside their homes to look at me, also freezing in their spots.

The whispers are soft, but I can hear them. This time not from the dead, but from they living. They’re frowning, some pointing fingers at us as they talk to each other.

I try to take a step back, uneasy in their attention. Kaan keeps a stiff arm on me, refusing to let me move.

“Bask in their curiosity, Elysia. It will soon turn into worship,” he says.

He smiles at them all, waving at some as he forces me to continue moving at his side. It’s as if he already sees these people as his subjects, wanting to get inside the walls, into the palace.

We stop when we stand just outside the wall. Where you’d think there’d be a gate, there is nothing. Not a single opening. It surrounds the capital completely.

It’s so tall that it disappears into the sky above.

Kaan’s confidence falters. “How do we get in?”

He barely gets the words out when a low hum vibrates through the ground beneath our feet. The smooth stone begins to glow, thrumming as if alive.

The stone ripples inward, as if it’s becoming liquid itself. Two figures step through that part of the wall.

Both wear fitted black armor traced with thin lines of silver that catch the light beneath the surface. Long white cloaks fall behind them, untouched by the breeze.

Their swords are already drawn, and in one practiced movement, both blades level directly at Kaan’s chest and my neck.

“Do not move,” one of them commands.

“You stand before the Wall of Mortuorum,” the other says. “Identify yourselves.”

Kaan smiles. It’s the smile of a man who believes the next few moments will change the world. He reaches for my wrist before I can step away, lifting my hand so the rings catch the light.

“I have brought you your future queen.”

My stomach sinks.