Vesryn gave a faint nod as the rift collapsed behind them. He drifted to one of the sloped walls, tilting his head as he studied the metallic seams spidering upward.
“I wonder if the gold began here,” he murmured. “Maybe that Bramblemaw—or the druids, whoever—drew the veins up from the earth. If such a thing is possible.”
Serenna held her breath, but the den didn’t stir as the first chamber had.
Until the prince ran his hand over a band of gold.
A low hum bled through the walls. Fossilized roots flared brighter, like coals fanned to life.
He jerked his arm back.
Too late.
Soil erupted around them, a trap sprung. Golden tendrils burst in a blur of petrified bark.
They lashed past Serenna’s shoulders, ignoring her completely. Not like in the druid jungle, when every vine had marked her as prey the moment the prince had claimed the Heart.
The roots struck low, snaring Vesryn’s ankles. They raced up his waist, yanking him backward toward an earthen wall.
He shouted as his spine slammed against it, shadows bursting around him—only to shatter the instant they touched the surrounding gold.
“Vesryn!”
Dropping to one knee, Serenna drove her palm to the dirt, grasping desperately. She’d spoken to roots before, felt their rage pound like a drumbeat in her bones.
But this time, nothing stirred.
She scraped deeper for a pulse, but the earth gave nothing back. The roots were too old, calcified to stone.
Dead. Beyond her reach.
And Essence would be even more useless. Sunfire whispered at the edges of her thoughts, but—too volatile to summon alone—Serenna shoved it away.
Only fire remained, the ember burning in her chest begging for release. Deep down, she knew it couldn’t sear the golden veins, but she refused to stand idle. Instinct dragged her hands forward, flames surging to her palms.
The roots climbed higher, binding Vesryn’s torso, locking his arms. The wall behind him trembled, a low groan rumbling through the cavern.
Serenna’s breath hitched when the earth began to fracture. Debris rained down as fissures raced outward, seams widening as the den shuddered awake as if it intended to swallow him whole. Vesryn’s eyes caught hers as the whispers began, rising from everywhere and nowhere.
“Starborn child, of traitors’ seed,
The debt remains. Your blood must bleed.
Ours to claim, for balance torn—
Ascension ends in root and scorn.”
The echo folded in until the chamber rang with a single voice. The chant looped and layered, rage swelling with every repetition. A rite fulfilling itself, punishing Vesryn for sharingthe pure blood of his ancestors. Claiming him to repay a debt, barring him from the stars.
The cracks behind him widened, gold-laced roots dragging him into the depths.
Serenna’s heart caught high in her throat as fire flared in her palms. Even as the flames gathered, she knew it would be futile. Their first assault on the den had already proved as much.
Perhaps a grown Emberhart or a druid tempered by years of discipline could have scorched through it. But she was neither, and needed another way.
Vesryn thrashed against the earth. Or tried to. Every pulse of Essence he summoned disintegrated, devoured by the same gold that had silenced the Aelfyn before him.
“Serenna—” His voice cracked, raw with panic. Not for himself. For her. And that was worse.
