A Dark and Starless Night

Chapter Seven

Eve was dreaming. Of that much, she was sure. She felt weightless and heavy all at once as she walked through a lightless space. Each step echoed through it, water – not deep – under foot as she moved towards a bend where white light spilled out. Something was calling her to this bright space. Like a long, forgotten task that she knew she needed to complete.

She got closer to that bend in the... tunnel? She could hear what sounded like stones plonking into water. She slowed her movements, sliding her hand along the craggy wall as she moved. Uneven stone gave way to smooth, cool, refined marble as the tunnel opened into a wide, expansive cavern. It felt strange to call it a cavern when the marble was cut in what appeared to be an intentional manner, creating steps that were almost the same height as her, all building into what might be described as a pyramid. The ceiling – so high above her that she felt dizzy tilting her head back – was raw marble, Zyrnan white with grey layers running through it.

"Who are you?" a low voice said, quiet and yet echoing around the cavern.

Eve spun, looking to the centre where the pyramid was. A few of those massive steps up, a man sat, legs crossed, with a pile of stones beside him. He had one in his pale hand, running his thumb over it. His hair – black as night – was long. How long, she couldn't say for certain, as it was tied in a complicated braid that reached the ground behind him. He had the look of someone who hadn't eaten in a while, and that made her wary. Hunger could drive people to do cruel, wicked things, and those that seemed weak could be frighteningly strong when they needed to be.

"Well?"

She swallowed, realising he had asked her a question. Something in her rebelled at the idea of telling him her name, but what harm could it do? It was only a dream.

"I'm Eve," she said, her voice soft, but filling the room. "Who're you? Where is this?"

"My name is Althian," he said, standing and lowering himself down the step. He was tall, a head taller than the step. "Welcome to the Underneath." He let his thin, lanky arms spread wide as he gestured at the cavern. "My home, sweet, home."

"Not the nicest of homes," she said, hugging herself.

"Come now, Eve," he said, dropping another level. She could swear that he looked... sunnier, somehow. Closer to her own skin tone. And his muscles had become ever so slightly fuller. "That's not a very kind thing to say about someone's home."

"You're right," she said, admonishing herself. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be," he smiled, flashing white teeth at her. It was a handsome smile, his cheeks round and flush, but something about it made the hair on her arms stand up. "You can make it up to me. Tell me, how fares my beautiful island, the Isle of Light?"

It was then she realised he was speaking Islan. It was the way he said Braella Fayl, the words sliding off his tongue sweetly.

"I... The same as always, I suppose," she said, shrugging as his bare feet touched the water covered ground. "Although Zyrna is sending more grain this season, which is a change. And there's no drought this year so far. A good omen."

He tilted his head as he looked at her, still far enough away that she didn't feel too afraid. But close enough that she could see speckles of facial hair she was sure hadn't been there before. She couldn't remember how he'd looked when she'd entered the chamber, but he hadn't been this handsome. He wasn't as old as she'd first thought either, maybe a few years older than her.

"A good omen," he said, though there was some heat behind the words. "And what of the White City, Teryon? I hear it's a blossoming capital for the mighty Zyrna and that the Varhindal family flourish on its throne."