CHAPTER 136: SIGNAL

Aelin

"I-" He got flustered, "I wasn’t jealous," He pointed at himself with his hand, "Why would I be jealous of a fellow warrior?" He folded his arms.

I couldn’t help but smile

I found his reaction cute, "Yes," I let out a soft chuckle as I covered my lips with my curled index finger, "What’s what I tried to tell myself too."

"Yes?"

"I had the exact same expressions you did when Vesper was on the roof interacting with the brothers." I replied, "And I felt very upset about it too."

He looked away in shame and closed his eyes.

"There’s just something irritating about that woman." He said softly

Although I was never the one to say stuff like this but I couldn’t help but agree, "Yes,"

Ariston shook his head, then rubbed his temples. His mind got distracted elsewhere and I could see he was struggling with himself again.

"I can tell you like him." I said softly,

My words snapped him back to reality and he looked at me again, "Does it show on my face?" he asked

"It is now," I replied, "It’s showing how much he is troubling you."

He closed his eyes in defeat for a moment again. Then opened them again, "I can’t," he paused, "I want to throw these feelings of insecurity away but-" He paused again and glanced at Drakkar who had his back to us, then he looked back at the ground.

"I don’t know what is making you run from it, but I hope you do what makes you happy in the end." I replied, "I hope you overcome what’s troubling you," I stepped ahead and grabbed his hand, "And I know it’s not my place," My voice was soft, "But you can talk to me if you need someone to talk to."

He turned to look at me softly, "That’s very sweet of you, Princess."

"Your Highness!!" Another thing caught our attention.

Demon soldiers stepped into the clearing, boots crunching over brittle, blackened leaves. Between them, they dragged four bound demons, their wrists tied behind their backs with enchanted iron cord, their skin streaked with dirt and soot, eyes wide with unnatural fervor. One had collapsed and had to be carried, the others stumbled on their own feet, glassy-eyed but somehow grinning.

Drakkar was the first to notice. He narrowed his eyes and turned to face them, his hand on the hilt of his sword. "What is this?"

One of the soldiers saluted quickly. "Your Highnesses, we found these four lurking near the edge of the area. They were drinking the black liquid that was left in the clearing."

A collective shift ran through the group—tension crackling like lightning in the air.

Draegon stepped forward, his voice low but commanding. "You drank the Abyssal corruption?"

One of the demons—a female with sunken cheeks and trembling limbs—began to sob. "We didn’t mean to, we didn’t—"

"Quiet!" barked another soldier.

Draken stepped beside Draegon, folding his arms. His purple eyes burned into the trembling captives. "Why would you even consider doing something so suicidal?" He looked around, "Look at what the liquid did to the forest,"

None of them answered.

But it was obvious they were drinking it for power. It was strange though, how could something that caused such destruction give power?

I looked at the demons again, they still looked weak and for some reason, they looked like they were getting weaker by the second.

Draegon took a step closer. "Tell us who ordered it. Did someone force you?"

Still, silence.

Their eyes darted at each other, panic rising behind the haze of madness in their expressions.

"You do realize," Draegon said, tone sharp as a blade, "that drinking the black ichor links you directly to the Abyss? You’re not just risking your lives, you’re endangering everyone’s."

One of the demons began to shake his head rapidly, mouth twitching, panic in his eyes. "No, no. Can’t tell. Can’t speak. The punishment—he said it would be worse—"

"Worse than death?" Draken snapped, eyes narrowing.

"He?" Draken said, "Who is this He?"

The female demon whimpered, pressing her head against the ground. "We’ll be seen. He’s watching. He sees..."

Vesper’s eyes darkened. She strode forward, her fiery red hair glowing like an angry blaze in the dim forest light. "Enough of this bullshit," she growled. "If you don’t open your mouths in the next ten seconds, I’ll beat the truth out of you."

Her hand ignited with flames—raw, hot, and hungry.

Two of the demons recoiled instantly. One began to mutter unintelligibly, rocking back and forth.

But the fourth one—the one who had said nothing at all—finally moved.

He was different from the others. Bigger, broader-shouldered. His skin was greyed, almost mottled, as though the black liquid had burned through his veins. His lips were cracked, and his eyes were solid black, no iris or sclera visible—just darkness. His expression was neutral, almost calm, which was more unsettling than the hysteria of the others.

Without saying a word, he raised his head and looked to the sky.

I felt my stomach twist.

"Don’t move," Draegon warned, his voice sharp. "What are you—"

The demon opened his mouth.

Something slithered out.

!?!?

It wasn’t a tongue.

It was thin, oily, and black, almost like smoke and liquid mixed together. It writhed as it escaped him, defying gravity, spinning upward in a perfect coil. I stepped back instinctively as it floated toward the canopy and then—

BOOM.

The black stream burst in the air like a firework, but instead of light, it released dark, smoky tendrils that twisted and writhed unnaturally, forming an unmistakable signal in the sky. A shrieking sound echoed through the forest, like a hundred mouths wailing at once.

Everyone looked up.

Drakkar cursed. "That was a signal."

"A beacon," Ariston hissed, eyes wide. "He called something. Or someone."

Vesper grabbed the quiet demon by the collar and slammed him into the ground. "Who was that for?!"

The demon’s head lolled back. He laughed—rasping and broken—then suddenly convulsed, black veins bulging along his neck. He wasn’t going to answer.

Draegon rushed forward. "Get him contained—"

But it was too late.

The demon’s chest imploded inward with a sickening crunch, as if something inside him devoured him from within. Then he collapsed

The other three demons shirked

We barely had a second to think before the forest went still.

A silence so heavy it felt like it had weight — pressing on our chests, crawling down our backs. The wind had died, and the distant birds that had been shrieking just moments ago had vanished. Not even the insects dared to hum.

I stood in the center of the stone clearing with the others forming a tight circle around me. Drakkar, Vesper, Draegon, Draken, Ariston — all of them had their weapons drawn, eyes scanning the edge of the broken forest, bodies tense and coiled like predators.

And me?

I was the one they were protecting.

The only one who wasn’t a trained fighter.

I hated it.

Not because they were wrong — I wasn’t foolish enough to believe I could survive a sudden ambush — but because I could feel it again. That growing sense that I was the weak link. The burden. The one they had to shield while something terrible was building just outside the tree line.

"Stay in the center," Draegon said sharply without looking back at me. His voice had dropped low — cold, commanding.

I nodded, swallowing hard, even though my heart was hammering in my throat. I couldn’t see what they were seeing. Nothing moved. But my magic tingled — that strange pressure again — like fingers tapping on the inside of my skull.

It was coming.

From somewhere.

My gaze darted around, trying to mimic the way Vesper shifted with her blade drawn or how Draken’s nostrils flared as if scenting the air. Even Ariston had his sword raised, red eyes narrowed to slits.

Then — a sound.

A soft snap

of a branch. Far off. But close enough.

"North," Drakkar growled. "Something’s moving. Big."

No one spoke after that.

We waited.

I turned to look at Draegon — his back was to me, tall and unmoving. His hands were arched, claws drawn, ready to attack

I turned back to scan again when — suddenly —

I was grabbed.

There was no warning, no wind, no sound. Something unseen wrapped around my waist and chest and ripped me off the ground in an instant — up.

At first, it was only shock.

My feet left the ground and my breath caught in my throat.

One second, I was on the forest floor, wrapped in the circle of warriors — and the next, I was being dragged upward by something invisible, something cold, something wrong.

I managed a short, muffled scream — more like a gasp — before something cold clamped over my mouth, cutting off my voice.

The world spun.

My legs kicked wildly — the air burning my skin as I was lifted through it — the canopy of trees blurring beneath me. I clawed at whatever was holding me, but there was nothing to touch. It was like smoke. Like shadow.

I saw their heads snap around below me — all at once.

Draegon’s eyes locked with mine for just a second — that second — before the dark wrapped around me completely.

"Aelin!"

His roar shattered the quiet like a clap of thunder.

I felt the weight of it vibrate through me — felt the heat of his power flare to life. Then the wind shifted. Flames. I smelled flames.

But I was still rising — and the black tendrils that held me were getting stronger.

I couldn’t scream.

I couldn’t breathe.

The darkness coiled around my throat, not enough to kill — but enough to choke.

Something whispered in my ear, close and cold:

"The chosen one. Finally."