So, I came up with this idea, and I decided to run with it. If anyone's read The Forbidden Game series by LJ Smith, or The Paper Magician by Charlie N. Holmberg, then the concept's similar to that: facing your worst fears and desires. It'll be only a short story, ten chapters at most.
This chapter's not as long as the others will be, it's just a good place to end it.
Disclaimer: I don't own TOG, it belongs to the wonderful Sarah J. Maas.
It hit when they least expected it. Aelin was dressed in her beloved leather suit, a coil of satisfaction writhing in her gut every time she remembered that the man who'd gifted it to her was dead. Nesryn had escorted Lysandra back to the apartment, where she was now lying low back at the warehouse apartment with Evangeline, claiming that Clarisse was so enraged by her miniscule inheritance that she was on a rampage, finding an excuse to take out her anger on any courtesan who remained in the brothel at that point. The green eyed woman had smugly informed Aelin that her mistress hadn't been this angry since she'd learned that Archer Finn had been gutted before he had the chance to pay off his debts to her. Both woman found it incredibly amusing that on both occasions it was Aelin's actions - directly or indirectly - that had driven her to such rage.
Aedion was more than a little pissed when Aelin had sprung on him and Rowan that they needed to go down into the sewers, because apparently they needed to clamber down into the layers and layers of filth Rifthold had left on the waterworks, to find some sort of supply that would help them blow that infernal clock tower to kingdom come. And them she could go about burning that gods-damned glass castle to the ground. For the and Dorian had been; for Kaltain; for Nehemia, who had hated it so much.
And it was both Rowan and Aedion who were pissed when Aelin had gone poking in the old opium dealer's shop, then come across what looked like a perfectly normal passage to the sewers with a seemingly normal sewer grate in the floor of the passageway, were it not for the alien smell radiating from it, torn it out of the ground, swung her legs in, and jumped. Especially after they'd seen themselves evidence that proved the Valg had patrolled the passage above not too long ago - after the Shadow Market had been burned. The bodies had made even Aelin - a weapon forged and honed by Death - cringe.
All in all, she did not have a happy court. Even Chaol looked at her with a slight distaste.
But the rest of them were too enraptured with the chamber to complain any further. The Shadow Market was rumoured to have been built on the bones of the God of Truth, whoever he may be, and every one of the bones set in the walls, the ceiling, and the floor were engraved with confessions from truly horrible people. Aelin blanched as she looked at some of them. The self-loathing that oozed from the inscriptions was almost enough to combat her own.
"What is this place?" Aedion breathed, stepping up to let his hand run along the surface. However, he stopped halfway, and his hand just hovered there, like he was afraid to even touch the bones, lest some of that evil rubbed off on him. "The writing. . . I don't think these were nice people."
Chaol held his lantern up and squinted at the wall. "'I am a liar. I am a thief. I took my sister's husband and laughed whilst I did it.'" He paused, then lowered the torch to turn to the others. His copper eyes were wide. "No." He croaked. "They really weren't." His gaze moved to Aelin, and for once there was no contempt there. Only fear. "This is a bad place."
Aedion's face was grave, but his brows were furrowed in calculation - ever the assessing general. Aelin could practically see the train of thought his mind was taking: how much he loathed not knowing all the facts sooner, that this was a stab in the dark, how this place could easily collapse around them. She could almost see through his perfectly practiced façade to where he was cringing at the risk she'd thrown herself into.
But he merely said, "Then let's find this hellfire supply and get out."
The other three nodded their affirmation. Even Rowan, surprisingly enough, put aside the Fae territorial bullshit for long enough to acknowledge that Aedion's plan was sound. They breathed a collective sigh.
"We need to be quick," Aelin breathed as she scanned the floor, the ceiling, the walls. "Really damn quick. Aedion, you take that wall; Chaol, the centre; Rowan, the right. I'll grab the back. Careful where you wave the torches." Not even the gods could help them if they accidentally ignited a hidden batch of hellfire.
Aelin took one step towards her assigned area. then another. Then another. Then she was standing on the bone floor. It seemed to suck her down, like she bones in her feet were being attracted to their bejewelled counterparts. She suppressed a shudder. She was Aelin Ashryver Galathynius. She would not be afraid.
The distant crunching told her the others had followed her instructions.
"This was a temple," Rowan observed, studying the walls. He wore indifference well, but she could tell he was just as unsettled as she was. "Not just ordinary catacombs."
A pause, then Aelin said, "The Shadow Market was said to be built on the bones of the God of Truth."
"Well then it seems like this God of Truth was more of a Sin-Eater than anything, then," Aedion called. "There are some really horrible things written here. Be careful. This place. . . it reeks of death. Of Hellas' realm."
"Death is my dominion," she uttered ominously as she strode off into the darkness. The echoes of her leather boots on stone clanged painfully against her ears. "And there's already a place in Hellas' realm for me."
She was gone before Aedion even had the chance to protest her words.
What did you think? Should I continue? Review?!