The Soulsaver (Starlight #3) - Kim Taehyung/BTS

3

Hell, Neva Verlantis supposed, would be infinitely better than this festering cave.

The absence of definitive markers made it hard for the queen to gauge the exact nature of her prison, but judging by the dank interior and rock-hewn ground, it was a cavern of some kind.

The Ragged Caves?

Likely, but Neva doubted it. There was something decidedly unreal and sinister about her surroundings, like the air itself reeked of the sheer wrongness wafting through the suffocating space.

Having been slouched against the jagged walls for only the goddess knew how long, she had absolutely no idea of what was going on in the world beyond this smothering, incessant darkness. No light shone through any of the cracks or fissures marring the nooks and crannies, no warmth enveloped the clammy, moss-covered bed of land the queen was slumped on.

And it didn’t help that Neva was having…problems keeping her wits about her.

This wouldn’t have been alarming under such harrowing circumstances. But it was, because Neva wasn’t a stranger to captivity. Oh no, she and Jimin had found themselves shackled to walls more times than she could count over the course of all their missions. But never had she ever felt her consciousness ebb and flow like this.

It was like her memories were being…erased one by one.

It had started with Nikolai.

One morning, Neva had awoken from a particularly graphic dream, only for her eyes to land on Valtor Loren as he hovered above her listless frame. The man had somehow transformed his features to match those of her brother. Only Neva couldn’t even remember that Nikolai was supposed to be her twin. It had taken her a full minute to make that connection.

She had chalked her momentary disorientation to her oppressive surroundings, lack of magic, and the absence of the familiar weight of the emerald lying limp against her chest.

But Neva knew something was happening to her. And it wasn’t good.

It hadn’t stopped with Nikolai. First it was places, then certain events, then names. Until one night she had jerked awake with an acute terror seizing her chest.

She hadn’t been able to recollect Taehyung’s face.

This had sent the queen into a panic, her fingers curling against the iron chains which suppressed her magic. Neva had squeezed her eyes shut, desperately struggling to conjure every detail of the prince’s features; his warm eyes, the freckles speckling his vibrant skin, the lopsided grin he reserved only for her.

And Neva had almost cried with relief when Taehyung’s face had finally, finally materialised in her mind once again. It had taken several torturous tries and all of her strength and will, and she had sagged against the grimy wall, chest heaving with exertion.

The queen knew something was horribly wrong. Was she finally succumbing to the darkness which seemed to thrum in the very air?

A pail of water was dunked over the queen, essentially bringing her back to the present.

Ilia’s figure loomed in her line of sight. Clad in a tight-fitting gown, the priestess held a lamp close to her face, a lamp she now strung over Neva. The queen squinted against the sudden influx of light, and she could discern the frown contorting Ilia’s features.

“Why won’t he kill you?”

The words were devoid of the usual bite characteristic of the priestess and she sounded genuinely confused. Neva snorted, settling against the wall, shrugging in the manner she knew irked Ilia.