Think of the scourge as the by-product of a void, my mum would say. Places where Etherlight has been sucked dry can create an imbalance toward Ethershade. That’s how the scourge forms. It is, in that way, like a rot. It manifests where death is—where life has left. Once the scales of our world were no longer balanced, it was impossible to put them back. And that’s why the scourge runs rampant. It continues feeding on life until there is nothing left. Which, right now, is Lucan and me.
So I have to do three things:
Put the room magically back in balance.
Protect Lucan and me while doing so.
Not. Die.
Frantically, my mind searches all I know—all I’ve learned from Mum and Father and, as much as I hate to admit it, the vicar. And as I stare into Lucan’s hopeful eyes, it hits me like the sun piercing the clouds.
“I think I know how we’re going to survive this. But you need to doexactlyas I say.”
28
“Tell me.” There’s no hesitation.
“You need to get in the chute.”
He eyes the opening. “For Mercy’s sake, why are we going in there?” His eyebrows are almost in his hairline now.
“What happened to doing whatever I tell you to?” I plant my hands on my hips. “Either you think I can get us out of here or you don’t.”
“Okay, fair.” He flashes a tiny grin at my zeal.
I move, grabbing a glob of dragon gore, the soft squelch of sludge making me nauseous. The rotting flesh is already singeing away in the presence of the scourge. There’s no time to linger on what this means.
Lucan is at my side.
“Are you sure about this?” He gags, barely getting the words out.
“Not in the slightest.” I’m still crouched, drawing a symbol with dragon guts on the apron over my upper breastbone—a circle with a square and a vertical line. Lucan regards me warily, and I wonder if he knows what this sigil does. It had to have been in the yellow dragon automaton, too. “I’m going to need you to heal me.”I imagine this is going to hurt…a lot.
“All right.” He tugs his collar aside, and I see the familiar edge of the sigil stained on his skin.I need some of whatever he used to do that. “I’m ready.”
Adjusting my shirt to cover the lower half of my face, I reach down to fill my gloved hand with more dragon guts, then stand. My lungs burn instantly, and my eyes water as the scourge thickens the air above us. But I stay focused.
With blood and guts, I draw a square around the chute’sopening, barely able to reach the top.
“Your artistic pursuits leave something to be desired.” A cough follows his remarks. The scourge is getting to him, too.
I ignore him and draw a square on my torso, then a crimson line from one of my wrists to the opposite foot, cutting the square into two triangles. I swallow the bile that claws at my throat. Then I make another from the other hand to foot. I certainly hope they’re going to finally give me new clothes after this…
“All right.” I wheeze and cough. “Get in.”
“Isola—” My name is desperate on his lips. I wonder if he’s figured out what I’m about to do.
“Don’t get sentimental on me now. There’s no time.”
He scrambles in and extends a hand to me, and I use it to help raise myself into the opening. He grunts and shifts back, making room, until both our bodies are fully inside the chute. The scourge is so thick up here, my eyes are watering, and I blink several times, desperate to find the lines I painted on the rim.
I’m so relieved I almost cry when I see them. My fingertips touch them as I steady my grip around the top two corners. I extend one leg out from under me, pressing my right foot into the bottom right corner, and the pressure keeps me wedged.
I take a deep breath, trying to slow my racing heart. I look up at Lucan. “Ready?”
“I’m almost scared to say it, but yes.” His eyes are filled with worry.
There’s no time to waste. No time to doubt or further mentally prepare myself for what’s to come. I shift my left foot out to the left corner. The lines drawn across my body connect with the symbol I drew around the outside, making a complete armor sigil.
