“Can I fly over?” I ask, although I don’t much look forward to the possibility that I’ll need to carry each of the men over. I’m strong, but they aren’t small people.
“Let’s see,” Jonah says, bending to scoop up a pebble.
He pitches it across the air, high enough above the field.
Multiple thorny vines immediately shoot upward, one of them curling neatly around the pebble and snatching it from the air before retracting into the greenery.
“Looks like the answer is no,” I mutter.
“What about burning a path through?” Striker asks.
“It’s possible.” Jonah rubs his jaw and seems to chew over his thoughts. “This barrier would have been put into place by those who wanted to make the path as difficult as possible. They would have known that power like mine would be rare. Certainly, a witch or warlock or even a Solstice Fae wouldn’t be powerful enough to do it.”
“Solstice Fae?” I ask.
“A fae with power over sunlight. In their time, they could create fire.” Jonah’s eyes are narrowed as he continues to contemplate the field. “Perhaps a fire dragon could produce enough heat, but they are most likely extinct now, too.”
“You’re giving this an awful lot of thought without simply testing it,” I say, trying to figure out why he’s stalling.
He gives a heavy exhale. “It’s possible that some powers might feed this field and increase the danger. Vanguard warned us to believe only what we can feel, and right now, I sense this field would welcome my fire.”
My forehead creases. “Then where does that leave us?”
To my surprise, Striker takes a step closer to the edge. My hand shoots out to stop him, but he clasps my palm before it can land, his reflexes as quick as mine.
“It’s okay,” he says, his amber eyes impossibly calm. “I know what I feel.”
“No, Striker?—”
Even Jonah jolts forward as Striker drops my hand and steps right into the greenery.
I can only catch my breath when the foliage parts for him, the rose bushes quietly slithering away from his position and creating a wide path that opens up all the way through to the wall on the other side.
He stops on the crimson ground that has been revealed, his boots planted in red dirt that looks as if it has been soaked in blood and dried out in a hot sun.
At the same time, all three symbols on one side of the box he’s holding begin glowing softly.
“They’re monsters,” he says, gesturing to the rose bushes as if that explains what he’s done. “Like me.”
He holds out his hand, gesturing for me to join him, but I hesitate, uncertain if the magic in this field will let me pass.
Striker’s hand drops, and a look passes across his face that I can’t decipher. It could be resignation. Or… is he beating himself up about something?
It strikes me then that, since exiting the tunnel—in fact, even before that, when I woke up lying on the ground—I’ve lost the ability to read emotions.
A chill settles at the base of my spine. The moment I stepped into the maze, I felt my power was muted, but now there’s a silence within my mind.
It’s as unsettling as the quiet between lightning and thunder.
A glance at Jonah tells me he’s eyeing Striker warily, but the volcano man doesn’t say anything before he scoops up Vanguard and steps toward the open path.
I snag his arm, gripping hard and lowering my voice. “What do those symbols on the box mean? The ones that just lit up?”
Jonah’s jaw clenches. He tugs a little on my hold, but I allow my claws to descend, threatening to tear skin if he tries to move away without answering me.
“Those symbols represent darkness,” he snarls in a low rumble. “I will not speak them aloud.”
I lift my hand from his arm, allowing him to step off the safety of the stone ledge and onto the red dirt.
