“Like that,” Kaelith pointed at Rynna. “Behead…then burn.”
Taren kicked at the settling dust and moved toward the door. “You know, for someone who claims not to like working with others, you sure talk a lot.”
“Rynna’s a terrible influence. What can I say?” Kaelith approached her, giving her a quick once-over, checking for damage.
Your arm okay? she asked.
Not the first time I’ve been burned.
Rynna turned her attention to the massive door. “So how do we get it open? Just blow it up?”
Kaelith and Taren exchanged a long look, both exasperated.
“You take right, I’ll take left.” Taren extended his hand, his eyes closing in concentration.
Without a word, Kaelith mirrored the motion, his hand hovering over the other side of the stone.
They stood like that for a while, silent but focused, as Rynna fought the rising impatience gnawing at her, knowing Fenn was just beyond it.
“What’s taking so long?” Her fingers flexed, the urge to act building with every passing second.
“Almost there.” Taren’s brows drew together. “Just a little more…”
“Yeah,” Kaelithgrunted. “I’ve got it.”
“Not so hard.”
“I said, I’ve got it, boy.”
The door groaned a deep, unsettling sound, then dust sprayed out from the corners in sudden bursts, and the massive slab slowly began to tilt outward.
“Move!” Taren shouted, and they leaped back just as the door fell with a heavy crash.
Dust hung thick in the air, coating her tongue and stinging her eyes as it drifted down in slow, lazy spirals. Rynna lifted an arm to shield her face, each step forward tentative as the room emerged, shape by shape, from the haze. The walls, rough and cold to the touch, seemed to absorb what little light filtered in.
In the center of the room, a single stone chair stood out, stark against the barren surroundings. Fenn slumped in it, his head hanging low, his arms bound tightly by thick leather straps.
“No,” Rynna gasped.
A large glass cylinder stood nearby, its contents swirling with black, oily liquid. Thin tubes extended from the cylinder, leading to Fenn’s arms, where the substance was being pumped slowly into his veins. Black lines beneath his skin snaked up his arms, spreading outward like poison.
“Fenn!” Her strangled cry echoed through the chamber, and she tensed, muscles coiling to launch herself toward him before freezing mid-step.
From behind the cylinder, Skarn stepped into view. It was the same man who had stolen away the boys during the Ascension. His lips curled into a sneer as he pressed a polished knife to Fenn’s throat, the blade biting into the skin just enough to draw a thin, black line of blood.
“Not much longer now.” Skarn extended a long, forked tongue and drew it slowly up Fenn’s cheek.
Rynna’s vision narrowed, a growl rumbling deep under her ribs as the edges of her vision darkened. “They don’t have words for the pain you’re about to experience.”
“And does the Novice who is not a Novice finally reveal herself?” Skarn nuzzled into Fenn’s neck, then turned his focus toward Kaelith. “I can’t believe you left me for her.” His words dripped with venom as he spat. “She loves another. How could she possibly love you? Not like I do.”
“Is he insane?” Taren did not spare the man a glance.
“Obviously.” Kaelith’s voice was cold.
Rynna barely registered their voices, her focus now a razored thread tied solely to Skarn. Blood rushed in her ears as the darkness in her vision grew.
“You think I’m insane!?” Skarn cackled, pressing the knife harder into Fenn’s flesh, carving a deep line into his cheek. He leaned in, licking the blood with a twisted grin.
