“Are you well?” Brand’s low voice rumbled through the air, breaking the dense silence.
She wove her magic again, absorbing and condensing the tiniest slivers of light that the shadows carried before shoving everything away. Another chunk of the chasm revealed, as far as her eyes could see.
Another hour of walking while ignoring the gnawing in her gut, before she did it again.
“Luna.”
“I’m fine, Brand.”
With her split vision, half of the world whirred by her, a blur of dark and dust and nothing.
Her other eye focused on the dirt a few feet ahead, welling. A weight settled over her, and she was suddenly so very sad.
What in the realms?
“Why have we never seen your pet?”
“Heis not my pet, he’s my friend. And I only bring him out when it’s absolutely necessary.”
“Explain?”
Him and that word. A two-syllable reminder of the thing she most feared doing. At least he’d asked this time, instead of demanded.
A few minutes ago, she might have fought him—just to be keep the boundary between them as armor—but the strange shroud of melancholy was stealing her energy.
“He scouts the forest to help me find herbs and mushrooms, and avoid its dangers. Not much opportunity for that in the Montrealm, ergo…”
Brand sidled up to her. “A shame. He is stunning, little moon.”
“Yes, he is.”
Damn it all, but she liked that endearmenttoo much.Its use made her feel shy and warm, like melting.
Don’t even think about it. He’s too close as it is.
Silence again as they walked and walked, the time distorted. Had it been hours since they’d started? Days? It was impossible to tell, the fog and shadows like a constant drone, every mile revealed looking exactly the same as the stretch before it.
Except for the imprints they followed.
Far ahead, Axanderus encountered another dragging tear through the dusty ground with more of Faldir’s blood beside it, glinting in the hovering orbs of moonlight.
A twist of disquiet tightened her stomach. The droplets were becoming less and less, spaced further apart, while more and more she worried their quest was in vain, and they’d never find him alive. It had been a dreadfully long time since they’d heard him. Not since somewhere on the steps, in fact.
She said as much, struggling to utter the words out loud.
“It is what it is.” His whisper could hardly be called such. Not with the way his voice tumbled down, vibrating in her bones. “Regardless of whether he’s left for the Veil or not, this isn’t a waste of our efforts. Something is down here, and must be stopped for Bordoroth to be safe.”
Lunara would never admit it to him, but he’d been right—she was so used to running, hiding, that she let it cloud her judgement. Had stropped off to keep him at arm’s length, instead of remembering they were walking through a stars-damnedDread Chasm.
Shite.
Realization hit like a comet, a belated wave of cold terror breaking over her skin, goosebumps in its wake.
How was he so calm? Why had he listened to her? Let her?—
“Don’t let the worry overcome you, Luna. We’re here. We can’t change what came before it.”
Lunara stumbled, heart pounding. “How did you?—”
