“Hey.” I cut him off, firm despite the doubt in my voice. “I’ve got this. I might just need a little more juice.”
“Whatever you need.” Khol’s shrug belies the seriousness of his offer. He’s all in, and I give him a grateful smile. It steadies me, knowing they have my back.
I’m not going totellthem that or they’ll be a pain in the ass, but it’s true.
“Okay, let’s try this again.” I square my shoulders and reach for the well of power within me. Revelin’s lessons echo in my thoughts, guiding me to coax rather than command the magic that courses through my veins.
“Work with me here,” I whisper internally, pleading with my essence. “Help me open this damn door.”
As the words form a mantra in my mind, the magic swells, bursting forth in an obsidian tide that weaves across the doorway. Sigils emerge, ancient and intricate, glowing faintly as they etch themselves into the stone. Finally, the quiet sounds of scraping and clicking signal the release of the spell. The stones part, glowing softly as they move aside to grant passage. Exhausted and exhilarated, I release the magic, feeling it slip from my grasp like water through fingers.
“Did it...” I pant, turning to Dezi, who watches me with an unreadable expression. “I think it drew on you, too.”
“I never said I didn’t have magic,” he replies, a hint of something indefinable in his voice.
Didn’t say you did, either, asshole.
We stand before the now-open gateway, uncertain of what lies beyond, but united in our determination to uncover the truth hidden within the shadows. Silence hangs between us as we look at the shadowy entrance in trepidation. None of us have a fucking clue what’s down there and this could be a big mistake, especially without Revelin tagging along.
“Enough,” Khol hisses, his voice slicing through the tension like a blade. He points to the yawning darkness beyond the now open archway. “We’re wasting time. We need to find out what’s being protected here.”
I exhale sharply, knowing he’s right, and I can’t help but throw one last jab at Dezi. “Just stop keeping your secrets, and I won’t have to get violent.” It’s an empty threat and we all know it. Dezi’s smirk tells me as much, but I don’t let it stop me from storming ahead, my boots echoing against the stone. The spell drained me more than I care to admit, and anger is the convenient mask for my weakness. Dezi and Khol trail behind me, silent shadows in the dark tunnel.
My basilisk’s voice cuts through the damp air with a wry chuckle. “Feels like we’re on our way to raid the Temple of Doom.”
“Most actual digs are pretty mundane,” Dezi retorts, the sound of rolling eyes clear in his tone. “Though much like this adventure and the movie, there are always giant snakes.”
“Since when are you an expert on archaeological sites?” I shoot back, my curiosity piqued despite myself.
“Egypt… winter of 1922, I believe. That was the last one I chose as a hunting ground.” His casual response stops me cold, and I spin to face him with narrowed eyes. It takes a moment for the date and location to click into place—this motherfucker was at the unearthing of King Tut’s tomb.
“Damn it, Dezi,” I groan, shaking my head. “I’m not even going to ask because you’ll only be a dick about how fucking cool that is.”
“Per your orders, I’m supposed to share. I can’t help if I’ve lived an inordinately long and exciting life,” he reminds me, the corners of his lips twitching upwards.
See? Cocksucker.
I snort, turning back toward the path that unfolds before us, swallowing back the mix of irritation and awe. As we delve deeper, the passageway widens, and an instinctive silence falls over us. Khol extends his tongue, tasting the air, then nods towards the righthand fork. I eye him skeptically. “Your basilisk senses are plain creepy sometimes.”
“Creepy, but effective,” he counters, a suggestive lilt in his voice that earns him a sharp elbow in the ribs. “I haven’t heard you complaining about the forked tongue when I?—”
“Shh!” Dezi cuts in, silencing our banter with a stern gesture. His heightened vampire hearing has caught something beyond our own range. He makes gestures indicating we should stay quiet so he can track the source of whatever faint noise he can hear that we cannot. I roll my eyes, but comply, as does Khol.
We press on cautiously, and the distant sounds grow clearer, morphing into the unmistakable din of a crowd and the clash ofcombat. Our pace quickens until the path spills out onto a ledge overlooking a scene straight out of legend and nightmare. Below us, the stone ring plays host to a violent tableau—a fierce Fae warrior exchanges blows with a half-shifted wolf, while a river troll grapples with a dark mage, their movements swift and brutal. An armored wyvern lets out a roar, the sound reverberating off the walls.
If that thing shifts fully, I’m pretty sure we’llallhave a problem.
“Looks like we’ve found Arrowwood’s underground fight club,” I whisper, my voice tight as I take in the spectacle of magic, muscle, and fury. Fairies flit between the onlookers, offering sustenance as if at some twisted carnival, while goblins shout odds over the roars and cheers.
A chill runs down my spine, and I can’t shake the feeling that this hidden arena holds more secrets than it seems. We watch, transfixed by the brutality and splendor, the knowledge that we’ve stumbled upon something far bigger and darker than we anticipated, weighing heavily in the air. The stench of blood and sweat mingles with the electric tension in the air as we watch the spectacle below. The Thieves Guild clearly doesn’t limit themselves to petty larceny, judging by the organized chaos before us.
I can’t help but sneer at the irony. “Khol and I get nabbed for a bar brawl, and these assholes are runningFight Club: Mythic Editionwithout so much as a slap on the wrist,” I grumble under my breath. My hand instinctively goes to my side where my magic simmers, ready to boil over in indignation.
Dezi’s voice is calm, a counterpoint to my simmering anger. “Every kingdom has its shadows, witchling. In the Night District, they parade their vices out in the open. Here, they prefer them cloaked in secrecy.”
“Which begs the question,” Khol interjects, his frown deepening, “are these fighters here by choice, or...?” His voice trails off, the implication clear—kidnapping might be part of the recruitment strategy.
Oh, shit. Is this like… supe trafficking? Fuck that.
