The path we took to get here is gone, replaced by this endless field of fractured stone.
She stumbles, and the ground where her foot was a second ago shatters into a thousand pieces, falling away into a silent, lightless void. Dreven is a whip of shadow, catching her around the waist, pulling her back from the edge.
“This is getting tedious,” Dastian observes, his hands alight with crackling, red-gold energy.
“We make a path,” I say, scanning the shifting landscape. The air is thin, tasting of finality. I can feel the realm trying to erase our footprints, trying to forget we were ever here.
“Or,” Dastian says with a manic grin, “we don’t use a path at all.”
Before I can object, a wave of heat rolls from him. The stone beneath our feet warms, then glows, seams of molten gold spreading out like a spiderweb. “Walk on the cracks,” he orders. “It’s hotter, but it’s solid.”
It’s insane. It’s Dastian.
Nyssa doesn’t hesitate. She steps onto a glowing line, the soles of her boots smoking faintly. “Better than falling,” she grunts, and starts moving.
I follow her now, the heat dry against the usual cold of my power. The dormant crown is a dead weight in Nyssa’s hand, a silent question mark in the middle of our retreat. Bringing herback was one thing. Keeping her alive is turning out to be a full-time fucking job.
Chapter 4
Nyssa
It sounds like a fucked-up nursery rhyme. The heat sears through the soles of my boots, a constant, nagging reminder that one wrong step means a long drop into nothing. I focus on the glowing lines, a chaotic map leading us out of this collapsing hellhole. My hand is clamped around the useless snake-crown, its dead weight an insult after everything we’ve just been through. Died for, in my case.
“You’re favouring your left side,” Dreven’s voice is a low rumble right behind me, too close for comfort.
“Got resurrected a few minutes ago,” I murmur, hopping over a widening gap to another glowing seam. “Bit stiff. Sue me.”
“I’d rather just carry you,” he offers. The possessiveness in his tone makes the hairs on my arms stand up.
“You’d rather tie me to a bedpost,” I shoot back. “Not happening.”
A low chuckle from Dastian echoes from up ahead. “She’s got you there, Dre.”
The ground shudders again, a deep, guttural groan that vibrates up through my legs. The golden cracks flicker, and for a terrifying second, they dim. My heart lurches. If Dastian’s magicfails, we’re just standing on fragile rock over an abyss. I can’t die again. Once was enough for now.
“Hurry up,” I snap, my voice sharp. The pull of the mortal world is a desperate ache in my chest. I need to get back. I need to fix this.
Ahead, the exit shimmers with the golden tear we came through. It looks a mile away, and it’s shrinking.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” I mutter. “It’s trying to trap us.”
“Trying to trapyou,” Dreven states.
“Story of my life,” I say, tightening my grip on the snake. “Join the queue.”
The tear narrows like a pissed-off eye. The cracked field bucks. I jump to the next glowing seam and almost misjudge it. Dreven’s shadow snaps around my waist and holds me steady. I grunt. “Stop manhandling me.”
“Stop giving me reasons to,” he bites out.
Dastian’s magic flares. The gold brightens, the seams thickening. “Bridge incoming. Try not to fall into the existential abyss; it stains.”
Voren moves to my flank, calm in the chaos. “It’s watching her, not us. Stay in my wake.” He sweeps a hand, and a ribbon of silver frost lies across the glowing web. The heat and cold fight, and the result is a tightrope of solid, steaming light. “Walk.”
I walk. There’s no other option. The tear is shrinking. The realm groans again.
“This isn’t like it was,” I say through my teeth. “It’s not just the room. The whole place wants me.”
“It’s tasted you,” Voren says. “It likes you.”
