Page 45 of Ever Dark Academy: Volume 6

Best friends? There was a slightly lasciviously lilt to Eyros’ tone. Really?

Not in that way, Grayson said with a faint smile. He had a feeling that Eyros was actually trying to amuse him a little bit. Probably because he thought Grayson was going to die a second time. But they’re thick as thieves and always out front. You and Daemon have your hands full.

That sounds so much more pleasant than the current moment, Eyros admitted.

Yes, for you and me both. Where is he taking me? Who do you think is in charge? Grayson asked. I mean I know it is Kaly, but which version? It’s probably just another Roan. Roan Prime or something.

I believe you are being taken to that central ziggurat, Eyros said.

The other Immortal directed Grayson’s attention to a central step pyramid that was twice the size as anything else in the city. It reminded Grayson of an evil layer cake. The doors and windows–not something usual in such a creation on Earth–all glowed orange.

This is Halloween, Grayson sing-songed.

What are you doing?

It’s a song… forget it. I think you’re right. That’s our destination, Grayson said.

Of course, I’m right! Eyros scoffed. When have I been wrong?

Grayson rolled his eyes.

A guard of skeletal soldiers formed a walkway to a ramp that led up to a set of brass doors into the ziggurat. Their eyes burned with orange flames. Grayson slowed again, not liking how their bony hands caressed the hilts of their swords. Roan poked him in the back again, which had Grayson whirling around in anger. Roan smiled at him, just daring him to do anything.

“Temper, temper, Ashyr. You’re in a rather breakable form right now. Wouldn’t want you to break something,” Roan tutted.

“He best not be broken in any way,” came a boyish, yet powerful voice from out of the mouths of the skeletons.

Roan stiffened. A look of hatred crossed his handsome features, but it was soon smoothed away into one of blandness. He gestured for Grayson to proceed up the ramp. Grayson slowly turned around and began walking again. Before he reached the top, the brass doors swung wide and the interior of the ziggurat was revealed.

The interior was surprisingly cozy. Layers of jeweled-toned rugs were layered over the stone floor. There were bookcases heavy with books, scrolls, skulls, candles, small sculptures and more lining many of the walls of this main room. There was a fireplace open to all sides in the center that burned with those strange orange flames. They weren’t burning wood, but only soul gems. There was no flue necessary for the smoke as there was none yet there was a warmth that wrapped around Grayson in an almost embrace.

He sagged, his steps slowing again, as he felt a deep sense of exhaustion, but also comfort. He found himself staggering over to one of the large, oversized divans that flanked the fireplace and practically throwing himself across it. The material was soft and yielding. He breathed in its scent–or maybe it was the scent of the burning soul gems, he couldn’t be sure–which was like cinnamon and cloves. It almost reminded him of Ryder. Masculine. Safe. He was so tired.

Ashyr? Ashyr?! I don’t think falling asleep here is the plan, Eyros’ voice though was just a buzz in the back of his head.

Grayson found himself falling through waves of amber light. Falling. Falling. Falling. Then blackness. Velvety dark. Surrounding him. Cradling him. Embracing him like the heat had. He’d been here before at this beginning place.

I’m closer to death than I thought, Grayson realized. But no, I must make it back to Ryder. I will be with him. Turned by him. And returned to our king’s side.

He fought against the blackness. He wasn’t sure how he did it. It seemed to him, at first, as if he had no physical form at all and neither did the blackness. But then it became thicker, like water, and he felt his arms return and then his legs. He began to swim towards what he perceived was the surface. The amber light was up there. He swam and he listened and he heard…

“I don’t understand why you want to question him when I’m right here!” Roan’s voice was a waspish buzz. “I have the Eyros gift!”

“And yet you seem unable to enter his mind at all,” the boyish yet commanding voice retorted.

“It’s dangerous to have him here! We should–”

“Should what? Take his soul and hide it someplace? Then we ensure that I will find it. No, he is our chance to co-exist,” the boyish voice said.

“He hates us,” Roan hissed.

“No, he hates you,” the boyish voice amended. “I believe he’s quite fond of me.”

“It will never work! He will never–”

“It was accomplished with Balthazar and through him to Christian,” the boyish voice interrupted.

“We should tell ourselves about that!” Roan complained. “If I had but known who Balthazar was back then–”