As we draw closer, Thorne’s mouth parts, but before he can speak, Rion beats him to it.
“We ran into a little trouble,” he states, and Ocean scoffs at his clipped explanation, but doesn't say a word.
Thorne, however, peers at him with wide eyes as he clears his throat. “Do we need clean up?”
“It’s already taken care of,” Rion confirms, and he nods in response.
The tension unravels around us as Rion unlinks our arms to drape his around my shoulders, pulling me in tight.
“Is that bag for me?” Ocean asks, and I nod, offering it over.
“What is it we're about to walk into?” I ask, glancing at Institute One lurking through the trees, and Ocean beams with pride, but it's Thorne who speaks.
“Ocean was the one to find it,” he explains, and her smile widens at the acknowledgment.
“I haven’t been down yet, but we're certain this is where the pulsing source of The Vale is coming from.”
“Why put it in an institute building?” I ask, aware they don’t know the answer, but it just doesn’t make sense to me.
“Because who would think to look in an institute?” Thorne breathes.
“That's true,” Rion replies as Thorne steps closer.
“You three head on down. I'll be with you in a moment,” my shadow fae states, causing panic to blossom in my chest.
“Is everything okay?” I ask as Thorne takes a backward step, nodding as he goes. There's something in his eyes, and I can't quite decipher it, but it doesn't feel intense enough to pause the moment. If anything, he seems calm.
Instead of pressing him, I follow Ocean's lead, thankfully avoiding anybody from Institute One or someone intent on causing us harm.
To my surprise, the basement door isn't even locked. When it opens, instead of the dark and dingy stone staircase that we have in Institute Thirteen, we’re greeted by a lavish, well lit grand entrance.
The steps are made of oak, and a matching banister runs down the side, while a deep-red patterned wallpaper adds a touch of luxury. I can’t help but wonder what the rest of the building looks like if this is supposed to be the basement.
Our footsteps are muted as we head down, but when we reach the bottom, instead of facing a single door, we find three, each labeled with a golden plaque.
Storage. Weapons. Administrators Only.
The latter comes with an additional engraving that comes with a warning to ‘keep out’.
Casting a glance between Ocean and Rion, I think it's safe to say we all know which direction we need to go in as we turn toward the third and final door.
It's no surprise to find it locked as I reach for the handle and press down as hard as I can. We were lucky upstairs. Twice in a row would have been suspicious at this point.
“This is where the bag comes in,” Ocean murmurs as she digs inside, reaching around for a moment before she pulls out a small vial.
I gulp at the sight of it as I recall the last time I saw one of those and what I used it for. My handinstinctively reaches for my throat, recalling the taste as I poisoned myself without thought. But instead of drowning in the sorrows that come with it, I’m reminded of the fact that Ocean mentioned she had used it once before, and I still don’t know why.
I save the question for another time as I’m snapped back to the present. The sound of liquid trickling down the door and pooling at our feet echoes around us as I watch her pour the contents of the vial over the handle.
Staring in disbelief, I watch as she presses her thumb against the metal before her head snaps back. She sucks in a tight breath as her hair flutters from an imaginary breeze, but it’s swiftly followed by the resounding click of the lock opening. She tries the handle, and the door swings open with ease.
Whatever it is she just did worked.
“Way to go, Ocean,” Rion mutters, and she smirks.
“Remember not to underestimate me,” she muses with a wink.
“I would never,” Rion insists, lifting his hands in surrender.
