“No.” Saoirse’s face paled visibly before she took a step back. “Snakes.”
The sound was unmistakable now: a sinister hiss, a slither in the dark, each second driving a chill higher up my spine—even though we still saw nothing.
“Ragnar,” I mumbled, a mix of dread and reluctant admiration for the Radicals’ twisted knowledge of Viking lore.
Saoirse threw me a bewildered look. “What’s Ragnar?”
“He was a Viking warrior. Met his end in a pit of venomous linguine.”
Her lips pressed into a thin line; her gaze fixed on the unseen menace below. “Let’s not follow his example?”
I stifled a snort. “Yeah, let’s not.”
We edged along the abyss, one careful step at a time—because falling into a maw of writhing death didn’t quite fit my self-care goals.
“So…” Saoirse drawled. “How exactly do we get across? We can’t see the Radicals from here, so if they translate?—”
“Or switch on the Amplifier,” I added grimly.
She exhaled through her nose. “Right. That.”
“Starting to think the snakes might be the least of our problems.”
Saoirse’s jaw tightened. “They wouldn’t turn it on, and I’d bet anything it is on the far side of this chasm. Why else go to these lengths to keep people out? My guess is they’ll need their own translation to reach it and activating it prematurely would risk exposing them.”
“Can an Amplifier be ‘remote controlled’?” I asked, the possibility prickling my nerves.
She paused, considering. “No idea. I’ve never heard of it being done. All I know is it has to be imbued with energy to function.”
A heavy silence stretched between us, filled only by the ominous rustling below.
Saoirse shook her head, visibly shuddering. “I’m not jumping. I’m sorry, but snakes… I don’t do snakes.”
I gave her a faint, dry smile. “I don’t think either of us is about to go full Olympic long-jumper over a nest of lethal nope.”
Taking a slow, steady breath, I extended my arm, letting my magic unfurl. The red mist twisted and solidified into a makeshift bridge, stretching into the void like a challenge.
Saoirse eyed it warily. “Do we trust it?”
“Not even a little.”
She sighed. “Fantastic.”
I stepped onto it, feeling the weight of my own gamble. “Stay here,” I muttered. “Cover me. Watch my back.”
She let out a short, humorless laugh. “Oh, don’t worry. If you fall in, I promise I’ll say something nice at your funeral.”
I flipped her off, but as I took a cautious step forward, Saoirse’s hand shot out, pulling me back. She pressed a finger to her lips, silencing me instantly.
Then I heard it too—voices, distant but steadily approaching, their echoes bouncing off the cavern walls and making it impossible to gauge how close they really were.
“Shit,” I breathed.
Before I could react, flickers of movement appeared behind us—shadows spilling across the passage. We were out of time.
“Move!” I hissed, grabbing Saoirse’s arm. We bolted onto the bridge, boots hammering the haze-formed surface—too loud, too reckless. The abyss yawned beneath us, black and bottomless. My heart pounded in my throat.
We were halfway across when the first bolt of translation sliced overhead.
