Once they reached the base of the butte, Griffin’s excitement doubled in direct contrast to Shea’s flagging spirits.
“This is it. This is the heart,” he said in an excited voice.
The mythological looked up at the formation, an uneasy expression on his face as Griffin circled away from them, examining the base of the butte carefully. Shea thought she saw an undercurrent of fear. It didn’t make her feel any better about this whole thing.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“I thought never to return to this place,” he said, seeming uneasy. His attention focused to their right, on a pile of rubble not far from the butte.
Shea looked back at the butte, noting the tower-like protrusions and a spot halfway up that showed fresh scars. The rubble seemed to be made of the same substance. She had to wonder if it had once been part of the main formation.
“If the same seal that released your people released the heart as well, what’s keeping this ‘father’ trapped here?” Shea asked.
Ajari’s smile was cruel. “What makes you think he’s trapped?”
That had never occurred to her.
Before she could ask any questions, Griffin let out a victorious shout. Shea turned in time to see him press his hand against the rock that made up the side of the butte. Beneath his fingers the rock was alight with a pale yellow. There was a rumble and then a section of the rock peeled away, revealing an archway rising high above them. Behind it yawned a large, dark hole.
Griffin didn’t wait, darting inside, his arms spread wide as if to embrace everything about the space.
“We should follow,” Ajari said.
The two of them shared a glance, each other’s thoughts clear to see. Neither of them welcomed the thought of passing through that arch. Unfortunately, they didn’t have much of a choice.
Shea started forward, the mythological at her side. The remaining beast padded along, bringing up the rear. Its position at their backs meant she couldn’t run, even if she’d wanted to.
Once past the archway, Shea found herself in a wide-open space. The butte was hollow. This was no small cave or tunnel. It was infinitely bigger than what should be possible given its apparent size from the outside.
Shea looked around, observing, curious despite the dire circumstances. High above, narrow stained-glass windows depicting a scene from long ago allowed light into the opening. Shea had to wonder if she climbed the outside of the butte if she would find those windows lurking in the crevasses of its rock.
The ground was polished smooth, their footsteps echoing in the large space. It was beyond anything she’d ever seen in the great cities of the Highlands or Lowlands.
In the middle of the wide space was a tree, its base twisted and black. It looked like metal to Shea, the substance seeming hard and unyielding. Its branches were long, the crown full, and long spindles of green hung from it, causing the branches to bow under their weight.
Around its base was a field of purple and blue grass, flowers growing in shapes Shea had never seen in nature.
It was beautiful and otherworldly—astonishing in a place known for surprising things.
Despite that, shivers ran up and down her back. She sensed a wrongness emanating from the tree.
“Look to your left and your right,” Ajari murmured.
Shea did as he asked, flicking quick glances around them. Trees similar to the one before them crouched, their branches snarled and bare. They appeared dead, no sign of life among them. There was no grass at their feet, just twisted twigs and dirt.
“Each tree fuels him. They strengthen him. Right now the worst of him is contained here, only the smallest bits escaping to influence the land. If you do not act soon, his power will grow beyond what can be contained by this place,” the mythological said with a meaningful look.
Shea’s nod was hesitant.
Griffin had wandered up to the tree, pressing a hand against its trunk, a devout and humbled expression on his face.
The remaining beast shifted, placing one foot onto the grass before drawing back suddenly with a yelp. Blood glistened along the blades. Shea bent closer, surprise rising. This wasn’t grass, or not any grass she’d ever seen. The blades were razor-sharp, drawing blood when she touched one. They felt almost like glass, smooth and slick under her fingers, their depths opaque rather than clear.
Everything in this place, beautiful or not, was designed to kill, to draw the maximum amount of pain, its beauty hiding a dark heart.
“Don’t dawdle,” Griffin said without turning.
The beast let out a small sound as it minced across the grass, bloody footprints trailing behind it.
