“What isthatsupposed to mean?” Rynthea rubs her chest as she stares up, too. Blood is leaking through the gaps of her waistcoat where she was struck the second time.
“It means you can only enter with a blood offering.” Thane reaches up to touch the rune, and it sparks a silvery white. He draws in a sharp breath. “It senses my magic.” After he says that, the tunnel flashes in the same white light as the runes before melting into darkness again.
He steps backward, seeming perplexed.
“I think I know how we can get in. We’ll have to do it with a bit of a twist, but it could work.” Thane whips out a dagger and passes it to Rynthea by the handle. “Carve the third symbol into my palm.”
Rynthea’s eyebrows pull together as she looks from the dagger to the symbols above. “Okay?” She takes the dagger, still confused. “And then what?”
“The third symbol means wisdom,” he explains, pointing up. “This temple seeks wisdom and blood in those who want in. It doesn’t explain how. If we all carve that third symbol into our palms and brand ourselves with wisdom, we might get access.”
“Oh, gods,” Algar says, eyes rolling. “Moreblood?”
“Yes,” Thane says. “And hopefully it’ll be the last bit of blood drawn from us on this island.”
Rynthea frowns at the runes. “What if we get trapped inside? Or we do something wrong, and this temple kills us as soon as we enter?”
“I’ll go in first,” Thane says, glancing at the entrance. “If I die or something happens to me, then you’ll know. But the treasure you’re looking for is most likely in there because I don’t sense it out here.”
Rynthea continues to frown, but her shoulders soften as she looks from me to Algar and then at Thane again. “Fine,” she mumbles.
Thane’s eyes dart my way. “You okay with having your hand cut?”
“If that’s what gets us in, yes.”
The hounds howl again, and the leaves on the trees rustle, a whisper that trouble is on the way.
Thane sticks his hand out, palm up, as he looks Rynthea in the eyes. “Do it.”
Sighing, she straightens her back and places the tip of the dagger on his skin. She gives the rune a quick glance before dragging the blade across his flesh.
I refrain from wincing as blood accumulates on the surface of his hand. Thane doesn’t react, of course. He simply stares at his hand while Rynthea looks between his palm and the third rune.
“There.” Rynthea drops his hand and steps back.
Thane inspects it before nodding. “Good enough.” He faces the entrance again. The howls are closing in.
“Let’s hurry this up, please,” Algar pleads with a nervous peek over his shoulder.
Thane presses his bloody palm to the temple, and the runes flicker like a faint heartbeat. Squaring his shoulders, he drops his hand and takes a step inside.
A knot forms in my throat as I wait to see what kind of threat will come for him. Surelysomethingwill happen if he’s wrong about carving the rune into our hands. What if he walks in and something chops him into pieces? Or a thousand arrows fly out of the walls all at once and pierce him from head to toe?
My heart drums faster as he carries himself deeper into the tunnel. When he disappears in the darkness, I wait with bated breath.
One second.
Two seconds.
Three seconds.
Four seconds.
Five seconds later, rapid footsteps pound on the floor, and Thane materializes again. “It worked,” he breathes. To my surprise, I can tell he’s smiling behind his mask.
“Oh, thank Orvena,” I sigh. “Rynthea, do you want me to do yours?”
“Sure.”
