“No whispers either.” Thyra’s lips tightened with annoyance.
“By feel it is, then.” Neve patted her sword and began her own circle. With one hand wrapped around the Frør Crown, Thyra went in the opposite direction.
Thantrel fell into step behind Thyra, whereas I followed my mate closely, attention darting above often. I could not be certain that the vampires could hear deep in the tunnels above, and it would be all too easy for a monster, or many monsters, to drop on our heads.
Neve was the first to stop, to cock her head. Though when Thyra joined her not a minute later, she did the same.
“Hear it?” Neve said.
“I do,” Thyra agreed. “It has to be coming from this tunnel.”
“You’re sure?” Thantrel’s eyebrows knitted together.
“Not entirely, but it feels right.” Thyra gestured to the other tunnels. “I heard nothing inside the other tunnels, and the Crown has not cooled, so I think this is it.”
“As this is our first turn off since entering, let’s mark it,” Luccan took his dagger and sliced the bottom of his red tunic. “In case we somehow get turned around and end up here again, then we’ll know not to bother.”
With that bit of cloth secured, we entered the passage.
“Tighter in here,” Ulfiel muttered. “Go in front of me, Sir Caelo.”
He was right. This tunnel cut the space by more than half. The Falk twins had converged together, leaving Thantrel and me to follow in their footsteps.
“That means we’re heading deeper into the mountain?” Luccan asked.
“Not necessarily.” I couldn’t fault him for not knowing, never having been in a dwarven kingdom. Until recently, I’d known little of them myself.
“Oh! The sword got hot!” Neve gasped. “Thyra?”
“The Crown too.” Thyra said excitedly. “I think we’re getting close.”
In the end,closeseemed to be relative. We walked another half an hour before the twins shared an excited look that raised the hairs on my arms.
“There are the whispers again, and they’re stronger now. We’re closing in,” Thyra said.
“Actually, I think we’re there.” Neve pointed ahead with her sword’s tip. “Do you see that light?”
I squinted and caught what she referred to. A pinprick of light shone in the darkness ahead.
We made our way forward, stopping only when we stood on a wide ledge looking into a vast cavern.
Above, like in other parts of the mountain, tunnels riddled the rock, but more eye-catching were the multitude of sunshafts and an array of mirrors that caught the incoming light. There were so many, I suspected that the mirrors caught light on all hours of the day. What they illuminated became apparent when I looked down.
“A Drassil!” Thyra gaped. “Inside a mountain! How does it survive?”
I had that question too. For many turns, our Drassils had required an influx of magic from powerful fae to survive.
Who tended this one? The fae of Eygin? Unlikely, given the boarded-up mine door and the long walk here.
And even if it got a magical boost from the network that linked the holy trees, it was so far from the others. It had to receive less power than trees in the heart of the kingdom. Although from our vantage, high above and somewhat far away, the tree looked quite healthy.
The leaves were amethyst in color, not falling or with blackened veins. The limbs did not droop, and the bark glimmered, darker than other holy trees, but nothing that set off alarm bells.
“Let’s go down,” Neve said.
“Wait,” Astril held up a hand. “There’s a smell in here though, is there not? A rot?” The vampire’s nostrils flared.
Her sisters followed suit, leading me to do the same. Before I caught the scent—sweet and cloying but off-putting—Luccan nodded.
