Within minutes, we cross the field, and then we’re facing the tunnels. Or, rather, what appears to be a single tunnel this time, since there’s only one entrance on this side.
“Is it possible the tunnel will only allow one of us through?” I ask, speaking the question I’m certain the others are thinking.
If only I could read their thoughts.
“What if we all stay in contact?” Jonah asks. “The same way we got through the last realm.”
Vanguard is quiet, but even without my power to read emotions, I discern the desperate press of his lips and the increasing tension around his eyes.
“You promised me it wouldn’t be you,” he murmurs, holding Rebella closer, pressing his cheek to hers. “You promised me.”
I take a soft breath. “Vanguard and Rebella need to go through first. We can stay in contact just in case it makes a difference, but they need to go first.”
Striker and Jonah give me firm nods of approval, and we shuffle around Vanguard, who seems only vaguely aware of us as he stumbles forward.
I brace for what could happen as we enter the tunnel, but as we step further through it and the arched doorway behind us gets further away, our surroundings remain as they are.
Darker the further we go, but the rock walls stay the same.
Even so, none of us breaks contact.
Finally, it’s so dark that the only light is the illumination from the box.
Every now and then, as Striker moves, the soft glow picks up the rock walls in more detail.
“Claw marks,” he suddenly murmurs.
Striker can’t point without either dropping my hand or breaking his hold on Vanguard’s shoulder, but I follow his line of sight to the left.
Giant scratches disfigure the rock in multiple places as we pass.
The sight of them causes my stomach to swirl. When we entered the third realm and retrieved Rebella, my sense of panic had lessened.
Now, it returns in full force, and again, I can’t pinpoint why.
They’re just claw marks, for fuck’s sake. I’ve seen far worse.
I don’t understand this dread settling within me.
Especially when an opening becomes visible in the distance, and the feeling only gets worse, not better.
At that moment, from within the darkness, comes a whisper:Got… Out…
“What?” I speak aloud, only registering when my voice sounds, that I heard the whisper within my mind.
“Peyton?” Striker’s amber eyes meet mine. “What’s wrong?”
My focus snaps to Rebella, but her countenance hasn’t changed. She hasn’t stirred.
Was it her voice I heard? Or someone else’s?
It’s impossible for me to know.
“We need to hurry,” I say. “We need to run.”
I don’t need to speak twice. Vanguard cradles Rebella closer to his chest, supporting her head as he breaks into a jog. Striker and I keep pace with him while Jonah brings up the rear. Somehow, not once losing contact with each other.
We burst through the arched exit and into the misty environment beyond it, forced into single file so we can stay on the stones. But at least we don’t need to worry about letting go of each other.
