Thane didn’t answer. He stepped forward slowly, studying the shimmering field. When he moved too close, the barrier snapped toward him like a whip, sending another jolt sparking through the air. He hissed under his breath but didn’t back away.
Riven watched helplessly. The whole room felt alive with voltage, humming against his skin. He didn’t know how much longer it would hold—but if it closed tighter, they’d be trapped in a space too small to move.
“Back,” Thane said, voice calm but tight.
“What are you—”
“Back.”
Riven took a step. Then another.
Thane reached into his coat, fingers brushing the hilt of the dagger he always carried. He didn’t draw it—just focused, hand extended toward the edge of the cage. Energy built around him in a low thrum, a pulse of magic that made the air buzz harder. His own power flared, subtle but fierce, like a storm building in a pressure dome.
He struck.
A crack tore through the cage like thunder as Thane’s fist connected with the magical field. Energy lashed out in a burst, and for a second, the whole room was nothing but light. The sigils screamed. Sparks burst outward in a halo, shorting the current.
The barrier shattered.
Riven flinched back, covering his eyes as the remnants of the spell collapsed, leaving the room swimming in smoke and silence.
“Go,” Thane said, his voice rough with effort.
They stumbled toward the hallway, fast but cautious. The electric cage hadn’t been designed to kill, just incapacitate and contain—and they’d beaten it. Barely.
The air beyond the mural room was cooler, darker. The house around them groaned like it knew they’d broken something. Riven’s legs felt unsteady, his lungs tight with receding tension.
“It was waiting for us,” he said, the words ragged. “That wasn’t random. It was built to trap.”
Thane didn’t respond. His silence was answer enough.
They reached the foyer in seconds. Riven could see the doors now, just ahead.
And then they stopped.
Because the doors were already open.
And in the space between stood Lareth.
He looked calm, almost amused. One hand in the pocket of his sharp, charcoal-gray coat, the other resting casually on the belt at his hip.
Flanking him were at least six people—some elven, some human. All armed.
The telltale click of guns echoed in the high-ceilinged foyer as weapons lifted into view, aimed squarely at Thane and Riven.
“Well,” Lareth said, smiling like a knife. “I was wondering how long it would take you to break out of that. Honestly thought you’d go down faster. Disappointing.”
Thane didn’t move, but Riven could feel the tension radiating off him.
“I should’ve known,” he said.
Lareth shrugged. “Probably. But you came anyway.” His gaze flicked to Riven, and the smile twisted. “Cute of you to try playing house hero. Too bad it ends here.”
The guns didn’t waver. The trap hadn’t been the lightning. It had been the whole damn house.
Chapter 58
The room was cold.
