I began to pick out shapes I recognized. There were the symbols for earth, air, fire, and water, the four bounds of the witches’ power. My eyes found one that appeared to be a corruption of the mark now tattooed on the inside of my wrist, the symbol of Garrick and I’s Lifebind. And there was the samerune that was tattooed upon my forehead, though in this context it took on another meaning.
“They chase their will beyond all bounds, and reap the debt they sow…”
“In loss they find the cost of pride, to sacrifice the soul,” Alize finished.
Our gazes collided, her magic, my power. For a single beat, I forgot to hate her. I was too distracted by the overlap, the congruity between us when none should exist.
But the sound of stone scraping against stone dissolved the moment.
The wall before us shifted, the runes hollowing out, rocks the size of my fist falling to the stone floor of the tunnel, until nothing was left but an arched passageway with a single glowing rune at its apex.
The message was clear—step through.
CHAPTER 36
Just like eachof the previous gates, we were transported. There was magic and power at work here, too. I turned, looking over my shoulder and then up, up, up to the craggy mountain peak that rose overhead. The archway sealed behind us, leaving the five remaining supplicants standing on the side of a frozen mountain, with matching peaks in every direction. The sky overhead was a cloudy white that matched the snow-capped peaks. It was a wonder of nature, and the frosted power within me reveled at the brutal beauty.
But there was nothing natural about what spread out below us.
Just as the temple had been carved from the dark stone of the mountain, so was the arena. Multiple tiers descended, each about the height of my waist. Seats for viewing whatever was about to take place. My skin crawled with dread at the prospect of facing another crowd of not-real people.
There were no nooses at the center of the area, at least. It was totally bare, except for a singular round table carved of the same dark gray stone as the arena and the mountains. The table looked eerily like an altar. And this was the Sacrifice Gate.
Nash began climbing down. Going first had given him an advantage at the Mercy Gate.
Alize and Nimra followed.
But I found my eyes straying away from the arena to the passes between the mountains. They would be difficult to navigate, but I had my active power to help me. The temptation to leave was nearly as powerful as it had been outside of the temple two days before. If I made straight for the coast, I could be there in less than a week. I had no money for passage, but I could wait until night and sneak aboard a ship. Use spells judiciously to keep myself hidden. I might exhaust what remained of my power, as Maura had always warned, but if I got away, I would pray to whatever new gods awaited on a different continent…
Except Garrick would never let me go.
And with the curse still looming, Kyrelle would die.
Garrick reached for my elbow again, but I jerked forward, avoiding him. I was afraid if he touched me, I might shatter.
Nash was almost to the center of the arena, just one level of seating left to climb, when the air around us heated suddenly. A pulse of power rolled through the air. A singular figure appeared at the center of the arena, along with two chairs on either side of the stone table.
The dark-haired figure tilted their head back, scanning each of us with their gaze. And then settled, a smile curving the pale face.
“Alize.”
We all stopped exactly where we’d been. All except for Alize, who climbed gracefully down with sure, unhurried movements. Nash glared at her as she moved past him, but made no move to reach for the greatsword he’d sheathed at his belt.
The moment her feet touched the stone center of the arena, another pulse of power moved outward and over us. I bracedmyself against the stone, but none of the others reacted. Was I the only one to feel it? Because I was an immortal?
The dark-haired figure motioned for Alize to sit, taking the other chair for themselves. The shape of her body declared her as female, well-clothed in a rich copper gown and matching mantle trimmed in white fur. Her dark hair was loose around her shoulders, but sections were braided back from her crown. My sharpened eyes allowed me to judge her as somewhere in her thirties, even at this distance. But I could not hear what she said.
Her mouth moved, but the sound did not reach us.
That second pulse of power had been some sort of a shield going into place. Or maybe a ward… though the female did not have the pointed ears of the fae. Maybe it had been Alize who set the ward, or some nuanced use of her wind magic.
Beside me, Garrick sat on the stone, his legs reaching the ground easily. I mimicked the movement, mine dangling. I drew them up beneath me instead, irritated by the comparison.
Garrick’s mouth quirked, but he said nothing.
Neither Nimra nor Nash spoke, though each eventually sat. The conversation between Alize and the female stretched on.
Usually, I found silence a relief. The lack of input to my heightened senses was a rare balm. But this silence was too charged to be calming. The pull of the mountains and the escape they offered… the weight of what awaited in the arena when the female called my name… the heat of Garrick just a scant foot to my right. It was as oppressive as any sound. I rolled my shoulders, trying and failing to dispel the tension building there.
