Riven sighs. “Hyacinth?—”
“Aren’t we in a hurry?” Her eyes harden as she looks away from him and waves her hand at the door. “This is hardly the time for a heart-to-heart.”
Thoroughly scolded, Riven mutters under his breath and nods. I hide my smile. This witch is tough as nails.
We gather in a clump, and Hyacinth reaches into her bag with trembling fingers.
Ciprian shifts his weight. I hope he’s absorbing every drop of her fear and ours. The more he consumes now, the more he’ll be able to shield on the way to the portal.
I don’t get to worry about it for long, though, because the witch stone doesn’t care if we’re ready or not. As soon as Hyacinth touches it, we’re yanked from the cabin and spit out in the middle of my worst nightmare.
I swallow a noxious combo of bile and venom as the urge to shift hits me like a truck.
The portal is surrounded. There are dozens of veydran and monsters, facing out in a full circle, leaving no angle unguarded. A few winged monsters hover above the rest, their oversized eyes searching the horizon.
“Fuck this,” Ciprian hisses.
“No, you can’t?—”
“I can and I will.” He presses a quick kiss to Celine’s lips, then glances at the rest of us. “I need all of you to do me one favor, though. When my nightmare falls”—he gulps heavily—“and it will fall, scare the absolute shit out of them.”
He doesn’t say he’ll need the fear to make it home, but we all know it.
I nod, grit my teeth, and drop to my knees, reaching inside myself to free the basilisk. “Got it,” I hiss in a voice that’s barely recognizable. “Scary shit coming right up.” I blink, my vision tinges yellow, then pain consumes me as I call on my monster.
No more leash, I’m done hiding him.
I once told Celine I would turn the world to stone for her.
It’s time to fucking do it.
On my right, a duplicate of our group runs out of the woods and charges the portal. I glance left and see a different configuration of us doing the same thing.Ciprian has created a shell game.
We move forward as one. Me, on my belly, flanked by the others. Ciprian stumbles, and Malach’s arm shoots out, keeping him from falling and proving he’s paying attention.
The opposing army splits into two sections and charges the decoys.
Everything is tinted yellow. Heat signatures show up in my basilisk vision as deeper oranges and reds. They stand out in a field of nothing—targets for me to take down.
The first group reaches the decoys. They grapple with them, stumbling and tripping over themselves when they encounter no resistance. Ciprian’s nightmare sputters then fades, but it’s done its job. More than a dozen fighters are out of place, leaving a path to the portal unguarded. Like a game of checkers, they moved their back row too soon, and we won’t waste the opportunity.
We rush the gap.
Sixty yards to go.
Beside me, there are gasps and pants. Cold and adrenaline pack a punch against lungs not made for this climate, but we’ve got no choice. It’s either fight our way to freedom or die here, and none of us are ready to die.
The second decoy fails.
Forty yards.
Several veydran shout at the monsters while scanning the clearing, but they can’t see us. Ciprian’s giving everything he’s got to keep us hidden, and it’s giving us a huge advantage. We can’t waste it.
Twenty yards.
I hear a pained groan; Ciprian is flagging, but I don’t dare glance back and risk the others when I’m this locked in.
“I’ve got him,” Malach grunts. Sprinting past me on the right, he kicks off the ground with Ciprian cradled in his arms. His wings flap hard, struggling to get airborne with the added weight. My breath fogs the air in a relieved puff as soon as he manages it.
