Vivienne had only a second to react before two more Thanatos crew grabbed her arms, slamming her against the cave wall.
“She’s feral!” one shouted, grappling to keep hold.
“She’s a gods-damned maniac!” the other groaned as she kicked him hard in the groin.
“You’re both wrong.” Florence appeared behind the men, Cirrus’ confiscated sword gleaming in her hand. “She’s a librarian.”
The first man charged at Florence, his battle cry dulled by the waterfalls. She planted her feet, holding the blade steady, waiting for the perfect moment. The man lunged, Florence sidestepped in a smooth pivot and carved a deep arc across his stomach. He staggered past her, clutching his midsection as blood gushed from the wound.
As the first man bled out, the second man slashed a short sword toward her side. Florence met his blow with a sharp clang of steel, her arms shaking as their blades locked. He pressed forward, his strength and size forcing her back a step, but she twisted free, bringing her sword down hard in riposte. Blow after blow, their weapons sang. Florence wound up her body as if she were about to lunge forward, but it was a trick, drawing the second man into overextending and leaving his grip unbalanced. With a flick of her wrist, she knocked the short sword from his hands, sending it clattering to the ground. His eyes widened, and panic crossed his face as he realized his weapon was out of reach. Florence advanced and drove the sword through the man’s chest as if she’d done the same movement a hundred times before.
Maybe she has.
He choked on a gasp, the fight leaving his body as he slumped to the ground. Florence withdrew the blade and waited for the man to join his friend in death, standing over them.
Vivienne sagged against the cave wall in awe. "Florence... you are... I mean..."
"Yes, I'm spectacular,” she dismissed, “I’m also busy right now."
Florence whipped around and stalked toward Enyo, the blood of his crew members dripping down the sword in her hand.
The coward was already retreating, his last two crewmen dragging him toward a tunnel Vivienne hadn’t noticed before.
Her sharp eyes caught the flicker of a flame kissing the end of a fuse. Her breath hitched.So, that’s their plan. They think they’re sealing us in here… They don’t know.
Showtime.
She staggered forward, her body trembling, hands outstretched in a desperate plea. “No! No, please!” she screamed, her voice cracking as she let a few well-placed tears spill down her dirt-streaked cheeks. Her frantic performance earned exactly what she wanted—Enyo’s smug, twisted grin of victory as he and his remaining men retreated into the tunnel.
BOOM!
The explosion ruptured the cavern, a violent, gut-punching force shaking the ground beneath them. A deafening roar filled the space as dust and stone crashed down from above, rattling against the rock floor in an avalanche of debris. The tunnel Enyo had escaped through was now a wall of collapsed rubble.
Silence followed, thick and absolute.
Vivienne dusted off her hands, barely concealing the smirk creeping across her lips. She glanced at the blocked passageway and let out a quiet, amused chuckle.
Florence whipped around, scowling. “Have you lost your mind? We’re trapped.”
Cirrus, groggy but no longer unconscious, let out a pained sigh. “Because the bastard doesn’t know we have another way out.”
“Cirrus!” She threw herself into his arms, squeezing him tight. Relief surged through her veins, the adrenaline finally loosening its grip.
“Ouch, Banns,” he groaned, though the familiar glint of mischief shone in his ice-blue eyes. “This might be the only time I ask you to save it for later.”
Florence rolled her eyes. “Okay, you two are cute. I get it.” She wiped the blood off Cirrus’ sword and tossed it back to him. “Now what?”
Vivienne turned toward the cavern’s towering relief of Elandra, the vines still cradling the silvery petals they had come for. Her smirk settled into something fiercer, resolute.
“Now,” she said, stepping forward, “we pick some flowers.”
45
Vivienne, Florence, and Cirrus stood before the Noctilum vine, the glowing buds swaying as though whispering to one another in the cave’s damp breeze. Hope flickered inside Vivienne, fragile as candlelight, as she reached forward and plucked a bud from the vine. The second her fingertips brushed its silky petals, the bloom shriveled, darkened, and crumbled to dust. She cursed under her breath, watching Cirrus and Florence attempt the same to no avail.
Cirrus brought a piece of ignis bark close, its pulsing amber glow casting eerie shadows on the cave walls, but the light did nothing. The flowers remained sealed tight, unmoved by their efforts.
Florence, having less patience, hurled an impressively creative string of curses at the vine, shaking it in frustration. Unsurprisingly, that didn’t work either.
