Another shudder, dust and pebbles clattering against the stone. Time slowed as she watched the crack form, and yet it happened so fast.
Before Lunara could move, they were hurtling down into the darkness, the step gone from beneath them.
Lunara flungher power down as they plummeted, the wind whipping by.
Fern shot like a verdant arrow past her, reaching Hedda first and grabbing her by one horn, then Faldir. Vann’s vines shot out in two directions, snatching Magnus to himself before winding around Faldir’s outstretched hand and arm.
She grabbed onto the group of them and wrenched their particles to herself, grunting with the effort of being stretched in so many directions—the shield, the air, their bodies.
Fern’s wings worked to help her, pulling them to a nauseating stop.
It was ridiculous, the way they hovered, wrapped around one another in a tangle of limbs and fur and flora. Worse still when Magnus—Pet—panted in her face and drew his rough tongue across her and Fern’s cheeks.
“Fuck off, you hairy bog troll, or I’ll drop you.”
Hedda let out a choked sound as Fern let go of her to shove a hand in Magnus’s muzzle, pushing his massive head away, and a huff of nervous laughter escaped Lunara.
“We should’ve jumped from the get-go.” Faldir pried Fern’s hand from his own horn with a slow breath. “Next time, maybe try to catch me somewhere else though, gorgeous.”
Magnus growled low at that. Fern seemed… intrigued.
“Honestly, Fal. Not the fucking time.” Hedda’s eyes were still wide and blinking, like she didn’t quite believe they were alright. “Now what?”
Vann cranked back and looked down into the murk. “May as well finish our descent, eh?”
A good idea as any, but not what they’d planned.
“Are you sure? There’s more going on than we thought. I can take you all to the surface, come back alone and?—”
“None of that.” Vann pinned her with his emerald stare. “We stay.”
No one refuted the statement, though a part of Lunara wanted to beg them to go. Wanted them to be far, far away from thethingthat had spoken to her.
“We stay, little sister.”
As it turned out, they were much closer to the chasm floor than they’d realized before she and Fern had stopped their fall.
“Bloody Solyrian,” Hedda muttered, swiping a hand down her face. “I never want to be high up again.”
Lunara felt that sentiment to her damned soul.
“Brace yourselves and be ready. I’m going to give us some light and—while I don’t sense anything living—there’s no telling what we’ll find.”
She ignored the twinge in her chest at the thought of the last time she’d done this, Brand at her side, and pulled from the well. Power concentrated between her hands and she threw the gathered sparks free, the shield blasting out.
And revealing nothing. Well,almostnothing.
The ooze had multiplied ten-fold, a hundred-fold, since she and Brand had been here. It bubbled up from cracks and crevices. It gathered in puddles and piles. Writhing. Crawling. More alive than she’d ever seen it.
Magnus shifted in a flash, bringing an arm to his face as he gagged. “Ach, that smell. Can’t fucking take it.”
Lunara plucked his robe from the ether, handing it over as she drew in a deep breath—the scent of burnt roses with it.
It was visceral, the way her senses locked onto the horrible, familiar stench and everything clicked into place at once.
Meliora. Baldrir. Glynmor. Fern. The Horned City. Nyri. Brand.
All connected. All hers, in a way. She’d known, but she hadn’tknown.Not in the manner it was solidifying now. Not looking at all of it through the lens of the Prophecy and her presence within it.
