But its head was still free, and it lunged at Vashael with teeth rotating fastenough to shred anything they touched.
She wasn’t fast enough.
The mouth closed around her, and she disappeared down its throat in a spray of slime and horror.
“Vashael!” Sarnyx screamed.
The worm’s body bulged where Vashael went down. I could see her outline through translucent flesh, still moving, still fighting.
“Kaelren!” Peeble shouted. “You have to—”
I was already moving. Ran at the creature, both hands extended, and grabbed the section where Vashael was trapped. Poured corruption into it with everything I had, all at once, pushing rot into flesh faster than I’d ever done before.
The worm’s scream was deafening.
Its flesh dissolved under my hands, turning to black sludge that burned where it touched stone. I felt the corruption eating through the creature from inside and out, spreading like wildfire through tissue that had never encountered anything like it.
The worm convulsed once, twice, then simply exploded.
Chunks of rotting flesh hit the cavern floor, dissolving into puddles of black ichor. And in the middle of it all, Vashael—gasping, covered in slime, but alive.
She retched, spitting up fluid that smoked where it hit stone. “That,” she gasped, “was disgusting.”
Nimor appeared by her side in an instant, checking over her for any visible injuries.
Eltrien jumped down from where the creature’s back had been, looking shaken.
“Are you hurt?” I asked.
“Mostly my pride,” Vashael said, wiping slime from her face. “And possibly my lungs. That thing’s stomach acid is—” She retched again.
Sarnyx appeared with water from the hot springs, and Vashael gulped it down, trying to wash the taste from her mouth.
“Auradelle will not be happy about this,” Eltrien said, stating the obvious. “That was just the first attempt to stop us.”
“Good,” I said, looking at the dissolving remains. “Let him be pissed off. Let him send everything he has. It won’t be enough.”
We cleaned up as best we could—Vashael especially, trying to get the slime out of her hair and clothes. The hot springs, once peaceful, now stank of rot and death. But we’d survived.
“How much further?” Sarnyx asked.
“Close,” I said, feeling Elle through the bond. “A few more hours at most.”
“Then we move,” Vashael said, still spitting. “Before he sends something worse.”
We gathered our weapons and moved out, leaving the worm’s remains to dissolve into the cavern floor. The tunnels ahead grew warmer, and I could feel it—the Heartspire’s presence directly above us now.
Tomorrow, we’d reach the ritual chamber and face Auradelle. Elle and I would either break the cycle or become another iteration’s tragedy.
But tonight, in the darkness beneath the Heartspire, I let myself hope that this time—this seventeenth time—might finally be different.
Because I loved her. And love, apparently, was either the answer or the problem.
Tomorrow, we’d find out which.
33
Elle
