Zander
“What is this place?” I whisper to no one in particular as we lead our horses through two open portcullises. The tunnel chiseled from the mountain is perhaps fifty paces deep, and on the other side, cobblestone streets fan out in various directions, each lined with elaborate stone buildings, their windows adorned with bursts of summer flowers. Lush trees mark corners next to park benches. It’s as manicured as my castle grounds.
And none of it makes sense.
“Our future, I think.” Gesine’s eyes are wide with genuine shock as she takes in the same sights. “This must be what the seers have seen. The nymphs’ token.”
“They left us a city?”
“A haven.”
“A haven for whom?” Abarrane’s sword is in her nimble grip, her stance rigid. “We have no idea what else lives in here.”
It is eerily empty, not a living being in sight. Not a bird, not a squirrel.
Not one of us.
Jarek scans the buildings, a weapon in each hand as if expecting a Nulling creature to materialize at any moment.
But an odd calm, one I cannot explain, has settled over me since passing through the gates.
“Is it me, or is it warm here?” Romeria tugs at her cloak collar as she guides Eros around in a slow circle, taking in the ghost city.
It’s definitely warmer. Too warm for our leathers and furs, but my bigger concern is the blood dripping freely from Romeria’s hand. A demand that Gesine heal her is on the tip of my tongue when Romeria gasps, her focus on something behind us.
We all whip around as one, as if anticipating an attack.
There, carved into the stone above the gate, are two crescent moons, intersected. The symbol no one can explain beyond seer visions, the mark Gesine has been emblazoning on mortals’ hands.
“Ulysede,” Romeria whispers, as if some great secret has dawned on her. A knowing look passes between her and the caster. “This is Ulysede. This is what Ianca was talking about. A place.”
“Ianca knew about this city and you did not think to tell us?” I snap, my accusation aimed at the caster.
But she shakes her head, appearing as baffled as I feel. “I do not know what she knew or saw in her last days, but she said the word Ulysede.” Gesine reaches toward Romeria’s shredded hand. “Let me heal that for you.”
While they dismount so Gesine can tend to Romeria’s wounds, the legionaries close in on Elisaf and me.
“How many thousands of years has this city been hiding behind that wall, and we have been none the wiser?” Jarek studies the countless windows around us.
Hiding.
Or waiting for us.
Not us, I accept, my gaze falling on Romeria as she stares, mesmerized by how prophecy seems to be unfolding.
Prophecy. The caster was right all along.
“I dislike this place,” Zorya mutters. “It feels off. What do we know of the nymphs, anyway?”
Nothing good. They cause chaos and barter in lives, and yet now they seem to have offered a lifeline to us when we needed it most?
“What are your orders for the Legion, Your Highness?” Abarrane asks. She so rarely asks for my opinion before giving her own, it throws me off. She is as rattled by this place as I am.
I look up to clear blue skies. We should be standing within the mountain. Another oddity. Regardless, leaving this place for the caves makes little sense until we know more. “Secure one of these buildings and settle the mortals before nightfall. Bring the weapons and whatever supplies are necessary.”
“And what of the city? When do we secure that?” Jarek’s knuckles are white around the pommels of his blades.
Secure it.