I flipped my coin into the well. It landed in the green water with a muffledplunk. Below, it started to bubble, then glow.
With a smooth step, I slid through the Lockmagic barrier.
“Come on, love. Nothing to be afraid of.” I smirked at herthrough the translucent, shimmering veil. “Just a wee little wishing well.”
Carwynn let out an adorable grunt and flicked her coin in. She stepped through, pinning me with a sassy look, sharp enough to gut.
Feisty bird.
Then—a hush fell between us.
She stopped dead in her tracks, shocked by the gorgeous rabble sprawling below. Smooth hands met the rough iron of the balcony railing. Down below, a cacophony of cheers and boisterous bets pierced the air.
Pride clutched my Luck-blessed soul.
The Snake Pit.
44
CARWYNN
This place should’ve been calledthearm pitbased on the smell alone. Eau de literal toilette.
It was the most insane thing I’d ever seen. Like someone had carved a super-stealth stadium beneath the city and filled it with raw chaos. My eyes couldn’t keep up with my sense of perception. It was massive. Beyond massive, really.
From the lookout above, I could see four main quadrants: A caged arena for what looked to be bare-knuckle fighting, an interactive shooting range, a hollowed-out pit where wolves sprinted laps, and a flickering dome sparking with strange lights. Perhaps for the magically inclined?
The sight was overwhelming, so much going on all at once. But the most overwhelming thing of all—thesmell.Holy hell. It was like being trapped inside a jockstrap, that was then sealed inside the world’s most repulsive locker room. Blood. Sweat. Testosterone. With a trace of something I didn’t wanna know.
Clearly, this was another one of Lochlainn’s secret spaces. So why bring me here? I knew there were other places to shootin the city, so why let me in on the underground stink-pit secret?
I searched around.Hmm,this was more than just entertainment.
It went beyond whispered wagers, guttural cheers, and blood splattered stone. People weretraining.
Training for what, exactly?
The magical dome and shooting range had a completely different energy from the drunken roars of the fights and wolfy racetrack. More controlled, serious,intentional.
An unrelenting tightness grew, suddenly feeling anxious.
Was it a dirtier, shadier place for gambling? Absolutely. Hordes of people hollered near the fights and Ossory track, screaming as if it might tilt the odds in their favor.
But the flashing dome and shooting range lacked chaos. No rowdy crowds, no shouting fans. Just a handful of figures engulfed in extreme focus, running drills—practicing.
I twisted my head to get a read on Lochlainn. His face lacked his usual smugness.
He stalked up beside me and gripped the metal railing. I recognized what was plated beneath those features.Pride.
He shot a quick side-eye my way.
“Go ahead, ask. I know ya itching to.” He angled himself to rest against the bar.
I shook my head, still reeling over the sight below.
“Aside from this place being a dodgy, troll-run version of the Golden Oak—and a college boy’s wet dream.” I gaped. “Whatisthis place? Does Faelad know?”
Lochlainn straightened. His eyes smoothing over the quadrants.
