He glanced between the executioner’s backside, Shivani, and the green trail.
Another turn and the moss disappeared.
Finnian twisted his head to look behind him, fighting against the slight tilt of his equilibrium without his hearing aid. Thearteries of moss continued in the opposite direction of the corridor between the stones.
A giddy sensation lit like tinder in his stomach. A hope he often smothered to avoid the detrimental disappointment that accompanied it.
If he followed the moss, he was sure it would lead to Father.
They crossed through an iron-gated threshold to another corridor full of more concrete enclosures. One held a woman rocking back and forth in the far corner. She muttered incoherent words that Finnian couldn’t understand. Her nail beds were red, like ripened fruit, with her nails missing.
A weeping man knelt in the adjacent cell, his face buried in his hands. He lifted his head at the sound of their footsteps, his face normal and human. In an instant, it transformed into something grotesque, baring stained, jagged teeth and piss-yellow eyes.
It slammed itself against the bars, reaching through for Finnian. Its rot-black talons scuffed his arm as the cell bars reconstructed into teeth and tore into the beast.
The executioner and Shivani did not spare a glance in its direction. While it was hardly the goriest thing Finnian had seen in his vast lifetime, it still unnerved him.
He refocused his gaze ahead.
They ascended a flight of stairs and entered a curved corridor with iron bars lined parallel on either side. The view at the end was familiar. He recognized the horrid moans of the creature with horns, as he had been forced to listen to them during the first day of his arrival while he was stuck inside his cell.
Their journey from the dungeon differed from when they first escorted him to it. Back then, they’d climbed eight stairways and had walked nowhere near the inferno of Moros’ core.
The corridors shift around.
Finnian rolled his eyes.
What a grand fucking inconvenience.
He counted five executioners stationed at each cell, still, stonelike.
Shivani held open the door to the last cell at the end of the corridor.
Finnian stepped up to its entrance. The executioner unlatched the chain connected to the manacles around his wrist and shoved him inside.
Finnian staggered on his feet before steadying himself. His nostrils flared to get a grip on his frustration before turning to meet Shivani as the door to the cell creaked closed.
On the other side, she stared at him, her gaze glittering pompously. The executioner maneuvered behind her, like her personal bodyguard.
Face blank, Finnian stared back. “Do you have something you wish to say, or are you simply marveling at the view?”
She huffed out a laugh. “Your pretty face has seen better days. And with that dreadful haircut, it is a pity you cannot use your glamor to grow it back.”
His insides knotted at the reminder of his short hair.
Despite his discomfort, he grinned as he crept closer to the cell bars. He had a few inches over her in height, and while he rarely asserted dominance using his physicality byhovering, of all things, he knew it would jab her pride. “I will not be confined in this cell forever.”
She maintained an amused expression. “Be a good boy, Finny. I’ll return soon. I have a brand-new cleaver that needs dulling.”
He noticed how her eyes briefly flickered to the manacles on his wrist before she turned to leave. Almost like she needed reassurance.
Solid and unmoving, the executioner twisted its head at Finnian, as if it had sensed something skeptical. Its maskcovered the top region of its face, the end of it arched above its mouth, edges curled and crusted with blood. It had two slits carved into the place of its eyes, and every so often, he caught the flicker of its pupils dilating.
Finnian gave it a cheeky smile.
A low growl sounded from it before turning to follow Shivani.
Across from Finnian’s cell, the horned creature lay flat in its cage, motionless. Its silhouette resembled a transfigured monster—naked, indigo body, fingers that trailed to sharp points, meant for ripping apart. Scattered around it were many of its own severed limbs, like logs from a fallen tree.
