A Dawn of Dragonfire - By Daniel Arenson Page 0,77
voice cracking. "But… it's up to us now. We must know what to do, how to fight, how save our home. And we will, Lyana. We will save Requiem."
His words sounded trite to him. As a king, he would have to inspire, to lead, to galvanize. He wanted to sound as wise as the ancient leaders of Requiem from the stories—the legendary King Benedictus who fought the griffins, or the great Queen Gloriae who slew the tyrant Dies Irae, or Queen Lacrimosa who led Requiem in the Battle of King's Forest.
But I'm not like them, he thought. I'm just a sculptor. And I still miss and love Solina, the very enemy who attacks us.
Lyana nestled closer to him, her breath hot against his cheek.
"I… I think I now know how you felt," she whispered. "When Solina left, I mean. You loved her. And you lost her. The pain must have been so great, tearing inside you. I cannot think of greater pain." She lowered her eyes. "I'm sorry, Elethor. When Solina left, I was glad. I scolded you for loving her. I mocked you for your pain." Her eyes glistened with tears. "I'm sorry."
They huddled in darkness as lava gurgled around them, fire rained, and the stone walls shook and cracked. A fountain gushed by the boulder, nearly spraying them with lava, then crashed back into the sea. They huddled closer, scales clanking, and wrapped their wings around them as a tent.
"Yes," Elethor whispered. "I hurt when she left. And I hurt when she returned. I loved her for so long, it's hard to switch to hating her, even now, even when I know that she killed my father, my brother, and so many of our people. I… I hate myself for it, that I once kissed her, wanted to marry her, spent years pining for her." He closed his eyes. "I'm the one who should be sorry. You were right, Lyana. You were right all along about her, and about me."
How had he come to this place? A moon ago, he would never have thought it possible. Solina, the love of his life, was now his greatest enemy. Lyana, the girl who always scorned him, now huddled at his side, his betrothed and future queen consort. Requiem lay leagues above them, past tunnels of terrors he had never imagined could exist. His life seemed so mad now that his head spun, and he could only cling to this rock and to Lyana, and he felt lost.
"Come, Lyana," he finally said. "We'll fly again. Maybe we'll find the Crimson Archway today… and the Starlit Demon who's locked behind it."
They flew over the fire. They flew for hours through the great caverns of the Abyss, down tunnels where lava rushed, over great forests of bones, through chambers where smoke blinded them and the howls of ghosts filled the darkness. Finally, when their lungs burned and their wings could barely flap, they emerged from a tunnel into a great cavern the size of a city.
The cavern was a league wide and tall, carved of craggy rock. Pillars of stone stood like ribs, and rivers of lava coiled. A mountain rose in the chamber's center, pale pink and knobby. When Elethor squinted, he saw that the mountain was made of bodies—thousands of them, maybe millions, naked and interwoven.
"Who are they?" Lyana whispered, flying at his side.
Elethor didn't know. He saw the bodies of men, women, and children, skin pale and hairless, eyes staring, mouths gaping. Were they dead Vir Requis? Were they but a nightmare? Nausea rose inside him, and the stench of death filled his nostrils, spinning his head. Suddenly he was sure he would see his father and brother there, dead and naked, eyes staring. He gritted his teeth, forcing down his sickness.
"Look, El, on top of the mountain!" Lyana said.
An archway rose atop the mountain of bodies, carved of craggy stones. When they flew closer, Elethor saw that blood seeped from between the bricks, painting them red. Mist and shadows swirled inside the archway, casting black light, like a portal to a storm.
"The Crimson Archway," Elethor whispered. "The path to the Starlit Demon."
They flew up the mountain. Countless bodies lay below them, famished and limp like discarded chicken skins. Elethor narrowed his eyes and soared toward the archway. It looked just wide enough that, if he pulled his wings close, he could shoot through it. Whatever shadowy land it led to, and whatever