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zhoras-bitch · 6 months

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Shadows Creeping

Book: Blades of Light and Shadow, Book 2

Pairing: Aerin Valleros x elf!f!MC (Reina 'Ray' Nightbloom)

Genre: Angst

Rating: Mature

Warnings: violence, mentions of blood, torture, involuntary drug use, vague sexual themes, crippling guilt, general sense of hopelessness, Valax is exaggeratedly evil

Word count: 3.2K

Summary: After a botched raid on the Ash Empire outpost, Aerin finds himself locked in a tight chase with Princess Valax. The labyrinthine dungeons beneath the Shadow Court Fortress stir up some of his darkest memories. Will he be able to escape Valax, or the ghosts of his past?

A/N: Post book 2 chapter 8. The story is mostly inspired by @secret-fungi with a little bit of @spacetravels. Valax is very OOC in that I made her so evil (for the plot!) I actually feel kind of bad about it. Also, shamelessly using this as an opportunity to practice writing action sequences. Enjoy (you won't).

Taking a sharp left, Aerin dives into the secret alcove behind an inconspicuous shabby tapestry and slowly slides down the cold stone wall, greedily gasping for air. Thank the gods he has memorized the layout of the dungeons beneath the Shadow Court Fortress so well, even if the Ash Empire has… redecorated the place since they took over. Admittedly, he hasn't had the chance to properly look around—and he really, really hopes to keep it that way. Still, this little chase, unfortunately, left him enough time to notice the fresh blood spatters in some of the empty cells and hear the blood-chilling screams of unfortunate souls trapped deeper in the labyrinth of these wretched hallways.

'Lovely,' Aerin mutters to himself, allowing his eyes to close for just a second. 'Very lived-in.'

His solace is hopelessly fleeting, shattered by the distinct clicking of heels against cold stone. Distant for now, the footsteps echo ominously in the dim candlelit hallway—the only path that could lead Aerin to freedom. And each one of them is louder than the last.

'The famous Prince Aerin,' Valax's voice seems to resonate through every nook and cranny of the dungeons, a low purr of a big cat about to jump its prey. 'Please forgive us for the cold welcome, your highness. We didn't realize we would be receiving such an esteemed guest.'

So they have identified him already. That's unfortunate, though not entirely unexpected. One of the guards must've recognized him during the earlier scuffle. Aerin bites his tongue, fighting the urge to curse, knowing that any sound would instantly reveal his hiding place. It was supposed to be a straightforward mission — get in, grab the supplies, get out. Two hours, maybe three, tops. Or it would be, hadn't he run directly into a squad of the most elite Ash Empire soldiers, led by Princess Valax herself. Why was she here, anyway? Last he checked, she was supposed to be chasing Ray and her merry band of intrepid adventurers all over the forests of Morella.

And yet, here she was.

'I've heard so much about you, you know. It's almost as if we're acquainted in absentia.'

Of course she has. Aerin knows what they say about him in the Ash Empire. Dreadlord's errand boy. His resident Lightrealmer lap dog. His little—

Aerin bites the inside of his cheek, hard. Distracting him is precisely what Valax wants. The self-pity can wait until after he's free. Now, he needs to think.

His bag of supplies has grown much lighter after he parted ways with Ray and others. The Shadow Realm's charred wastelands can be challenging to find herbs in. Especially the healing ones — the migraine has been killing him. And the skirmish with the soldiers earlier has depleted his already very unimpressive reserves even further. But surely, he can come up with something?

His fingers fumble through his bag, searching for something—anything—until finally closing around a half-empty pouch of dry resin, and Aerin clutches it so tightly that his knuckles grow white. Yes, it isn't much, but it will suffice—and at that moment, that's all he's asking for.

The approaching footsteps grow uncomfortably closer, each one counting down the seconds before his demise. Aerin's heartbeat matches their eerie rhythm, but he's ready. With swift precision, he sends a tiny pouch of flaming resin skidding across the floor toward Valax's feet and the next moment, it erupts in a thick cloud of bitter black smoke. Aerin launches. He can feel the rush of air as Valax's hand nearly grazes his hood, but the surprise is on his side. Twisting like an eel, he slips away from her outstretched grasp and bolts.

He knows better than to believe that his little diversion will stall Valax for long, his instinct keen as ever. Behind him, a fierce gust of wind, strong enough to bend trees, sweeps the smoke away in one fell swoop. A second more, and it might have toppled Aerin too, but he lunges into the nearest open chamber just in time. Behind him, the heavy metal door slams shut with a deafening boom.

The room he finds himself in is peculiar. A large, dimly lit chamber welcomes him with the quiet hum of strange machines, the ticking and clicking of odd knick-knacks and the soft glow of iridescent vials. Metals cages bare their bars ominously in the dark corners of the room. His gaze takes it all with greedy interest. At a better time, Aerin could spend hours here, figuring out the purpose of each strange device and weird contraption. Now, though, he scarcely has a moment to take cover behind one of the towering metallic cabinets and calm his breath. Just in the nick of time before the door opens again.

Valax pierces the room with her dark, heavy gaze, no doubt noticing every minute detail before stepping inside. Her steps are slow and deliberate as she circles the room, a shark sensing the smell of blood, and each time her heel connects with the floor, it's a sledgehammer blow to Aerin's temples.

'Your friend Reina told me so much about you, you know,' Valax purrs.

Every one of her words is a stone in an avalanche. But it's not even the words themselves; it is the sheer wrongness of hearing that name uttered by this voice that truly shakes Aerin to his very core. He knows Ray is not particularly fond of her full name, not really. She told him she'd always found it too old-fashioned. It made her sound like some stuck-up Whitetower noble, she said.

Unless it was him who called her that.

'Ah, we've had so many wonderful times together. In this very room, actually,' Valax continues. From his vantage point, Aerin can clearly see Valax's hand as it tenderly caresses the large stone table in the centre of the room. As his eyes follow her movement, it dawns on him that the table has leather straps at each corner. 'Yes, she became quite talkative at times. Especially after I treated her to a bit of belladonna and dreamroot tonic.'

A chilling shiver slithers down Aerin's spine. He's familiar with the effects of belladonna tonic. Thank Vostrasz, that sadistic bastard. He loved dosing his victims with this vile concoction and watching them as they screamed, unable to escape the visions of their worst nightmares. Aerin has witnessed its effects once, the memory carved into his mind. A young man, skin glistening with cold sweat, empty eyes with freakishly wide pupils staring at something only he could see, dry lips whispering a desperate plea as tears streamed down his face.

As if compelled by some wicked force, his gaze is drawn back to the stone table. For a haunting second, he can see Ray's lifeless body sprawled upon it. Bile surges in his throat. He shuts his eyes and clenches his fists.

'She screamed so loudly. Screamed until she had no voice left to scream with. Would you like to know what she screamed, your highness?'

He needs to get out of here.

As Valax turns her back to him, Aerin seizes the opportunity and hurls a small pebble to the far corner of the room, where it lands in a tiny clink. Valax's head snaps towards the sound, and Aerin jumps, throwing his whole body onto the massive cabinet serving as his cover. The cabinet creeks, staggers, and topples right towards Valax's head. Vials and boxes spill across the chamber in a cacophony of clatter and crashing. Amid the ensuing chaos, Aerin rushes towards the exit, swiping a bunch of supplies laid out on one of the side tables into his bag.

Unfortunately, he doesn't make it all the way. Valax, with her inhuman strength, halts the toppling cabinet mid-air with a single hand. Crouched behind an overturned table, Aerin can see the dark veins pulsing on Valax's forearm as she holds the cabinet still for a moment, metal crumpling like paper tissue under her fingers, then shoves it back into the wall. One of the glass vials must have shattered against her forehead because he can see a strange iridescent liquid mingling with dark blood as it slowly trickles down her brow, but otherwise, Valax doesn't look hurt at all. Just pissed.

Holding his breath so as not to make a single sound, Aerin frantically sorts through the ingredients he managed to snatch. There is some dry hemlock and foxglove. A vial of dragonfly wings. A pouch of saltpetre and sugar. Oh, if only there was sulphur… Please, let there be sulphur…

In his frantic state, Valax's voice is cold and still like a blade. 'Don't do it, Aerin. That's what she said... She seemed so scared, too. Terrified. I wonder what you did to scare her so badly, your highness?'

Aerin grits his teeth, forcing his hands to keep working through the tiny vials, but his mind is, unfortunately, much harder to control. He knows nothing of Ray's nightmares—there is no way he could know—but he's got plenty of his own. And as Valax's words keep ringing in his ears, one in particular raises its ugly head.

Smears of blood blooming on the throne room floor. A portal buzzing with dark magic. Tang of metal and ozone in the air. Nia—the priestess's limp body in his arms. He tries not to look at her face—it's easier this way. Instead, he only looks into the portal, Shadow Realm's lifeless landscape spread out before his eyes. He's so close. One tiny step away. But just before he's about to take it, he glances back.

Briefly, his mind registers Mal's face, twisted with rage. The terror in Tyril's eyes. Imtura's teeth bared in a scorching scowl. But in the end, it's her face that is burned into the back of his eyelids.

Her cheeks, oddly wet. Her body, trembling ever so slightly. She looks so tiny at that moment. So lost, like a puppet with her strings cut. And so utterly, heartbreakingly sad. She doesn't make a sound, but her lips curve around the words, and Aerin swears he can hear her voice as she pleads, 'Don't do it.'

'Maybe you should try being afraid of me as well!' Aerin erupts, letting go of the pent-up anger as he hurls the burning concoction he mixed up at Valax, then dives through the doorway. Behind him, the makeshift bomb explodes with a deafening roar of fire, its fiery breath shuffling the hair on Aerin's nape. The skin on his hands and knees burns, scraped from the clumsy fall. But the pain is so worth it. So worth the feeling of dark satisfaction blazing through his veins. Having this place where Ray suffered countless days and nights reduced to ashes… It's invigorating.

Celebration will have to wait, though. Aerin knows that destroying Valax herself won't be as simple as her laboratory. The echoes of the explosion still ringing in his ears, he scrambles to his feet and takes off in the direction of the dungeon's exit.

He doesn't get far before the sinister sound of Valax's approaching footsteps reaches him again.

'So, the Dreadlord's little lapdog has some bite, too. Still, that won't be enough,' Valax… giggles? It's a disturbing, chilling sound that makes the hairs on Aerin's arms stand on end. 'Unfortunately for you, you don't have quite the same… effect on me as you do on the Realmwalker.'

In this dark, horrifying dungeon, her voice rings with eerie delight, as if she's remembering a very funny joke, and Aerin is not in on it.

Aerin has no time to dwell on it, though. Reaching a crossroads, he takes a sharp right and, hiding behind the corner, steals a glance over his shoulder. As expected, Valax is closing in, tendrils of smoke and shadow swirling around her body as though she carries a piece of the very fire he started on her.

'You see, the Realmwalker and I have spent so much time together. Months… Why, I would almost consider us to be close friends! And she has told me many, many things over those months… About you, too! Aren't you curious, little princeling?'

Why are you listening to her, his mind screams out. She doesn't know where he is. She's just baiting him. Trying to get a reaction, provoke him into revealing himself. There is no reason to believe a single venomous word that escapes her lips.

'I'm sorry, Aerin. That is one of my favourites. Do you like it, princeling?'

Lies, lies, lies, every single word of hers. After all, whatever would she ask his forgiveness for when everything… Everything is his fault. And yet, as Valax's words echo in his ears, Aerin swears he can hear her voice—

Ray has always been so strong. He's seen her in battle, the hero of Morella, as deadly as she is beautiful. But her heart… He knew her tender, bleeding heart. Always too kind to people who didn't deserve it. To people like him.

Of all things, his mind goes back to the night of the fair in Riverbend—their night. He remembers her skin, dressed in nothing but candlelight, her body melting under his touch like wax as he kissed her thighs. The mighty hero, in his arms, exposed down to her very soul. It struck him then, the power he held. At that moment, he could break her. It wouldn't even be hard.

The thought terrified him. He had power, once. And look where it got him. Power… It brings out the darkness within people. Most live and die without ever truly experiencing it, but Aerin has seen his shadow already. He looked it in the eye. And that is how he knew he could never allow himself to touch her again.

He clenches his teeth and tries to melt into the shadows, away from Valax's piercing gaze.

'Come back, she said. Oh, why wouldn't you come back to her, princeling?'

Aerin knows he shouldn't listen. But every word that falls from Valax's lips is a drop of acid eating away at his very soul. Perhaps that's why he doesn't notice the shadowy tendril winding around his ankle.

Pale rays of early dawn filter into the tent as Aerin hastily packs the last of his admittedly unimpressive belongings.

Ray still lies amidst the crumpled sheets, her hair tousled on the pillow. She's asleep, yet her brows are still knitted together in a painful frown.

That night, he didn't sleep at all, the chatter of his own thoughts too loud to let him rest. For a while, he just laid there, silently studying her face. She whimpers in her sleep. What awful things does she see when she closes her eyes? He didn't know; he just stroked her hair tenderly until she seemed to calm down. Her frown never went away, though. Why is it that every time she is with him, she looks like she's in pain? The thought made him feel ill.

Finally, he secures his bag and steps toward the exit, his goodbye letter resting on the nightstand. Before him stretches the forest that skirts the edges of Riverbend, tranquil and beautiful in its robe made of golden dew. But just as he's about to step into the dawn, he glances back. He just can't help himself.

As though sensing his gaze, she stirs in her slumber and raises her head. Aerin freezes. Her lavender eyes twinkle for just a second, half-obscured beneath the heavy fawn lashes. From her perplexed expression, it is clear she's not yet fully awake.

'Aerin?' she exhales.

'Yes,' Aerin replies, the word sticking in his throat. 'It's me.'

He's utterly still, fearing that any sudden movement or noise will awaken her further, revealing him standing there. Fully clothed. With his belongings in tow.

'Come back,' she asks, her feather-soft voice piercing right through his heart.

'I'm just getting some water. Go back to sleep.'

It's so hard to keep his voice straight, but he manages. He's lied for so long it's become second nature. Finally, Ray lets out a compliant hum, seemingly convinced by his words, and falls back onto the pillow. Aerin lingers for a few more moments, then finally walks away. Her voice still echoes in his ears, but his mind is made up. This is for the best. If he stays away, he won't be able to hurt her again.

That's the lie he keeps telling himself.

The shadow yanks him closer to its master. Aerin almost loses his balance but rolls away at the very last second. In one fluid motion, he draws a short blade from the sheath on his shin and slices through the tendril, freeing himself.

But it's too late. Valax stands in front of him, and behind his back, the corridor stretches into a dead end.

In one last desperately hopeless attempt, he tightens his grip on the hilt and lunges at Valax.

'Help me,' Valax whispers, the plea laced with cruel amusement.

His stomach drops, and his head spins, but he almost manages to keep his composure. Almost.

Valax leans into his attack, sidestepping at the very last moment, and strikes his wrist with an open palm, sending his dagger clattering across the dungeon floor. Her other hand grabs his throat and slams him into the wall like he weighs nothing at all. The back of his head connects with stone in a hollow thud. It's over.

Valax's clawed fingers tighten around his neck as she studies his face with a ruthless smile.

'You'll serve as bait quite nicely,' she declares.

'You're wasting your time,' Aerin chokes out. 'She won't come for me.'

But his lie rings hollow. He might have believed it once, but not anymore. Not for a while. As if reading his mind, Valax smirks.

'Oh, but I think she will.'

Ray will come for him. Once upon a time, this thought would've filled his stomach with butterflies, but at this moment, it sounds like hollow dread. She will come here, into the Shadow Court Fortress, right into Valax's eager clutches. Because of him.

How foolish he was to think that her anguish would end if he just stepped away. Even now, even here, he's still putting her in danger. Still hurting her. He really is good for absolutely nothing, isn't he?

Darkness begins to engulf his vision, but just before it consumes him entirely, Valax abruptly releases her grip. Aerin collapses to the ground, his body limp, coughing violently.

'But until she does, we have much to discuss,' Valax says, grabbing a fistful of his hair and pulling until Aerin meets her gaze. Her eyes are dark and cruel as she studies his face. Then she grins. 'I wonder if you'll scream her name too, little princeling.'

She doesn't need to guess. She knows he will.

#probably shouldn't post it just a few hours before the new chapter but anyway #almost put the genre as 'emotional torture porn'#playchoices #my writing #blades of light and shadow #aerin valleros #oc: ray nightbloom

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