A shriek sounds through the mist, making me jolt and nearly miss my step.
Then another scream sounds, this one even more shrill, from the other side of the path.
I sense beating wings and movement within the fog, but I can’t see what’s out there.
Finally, we reach the stairs and begin to ascend.
The higher we go, the more my power returns to me.
It isn’t the blessing I wanted it to be.
Vanguard’s grief is overwhelming, his self-hatred billowing out from him in waves. He should have been there beside her during the battle. He should have been the one to risk his life. He should have found a way back sooner. He should have tried harder. He shouldn’t have given up. What kind of monster gives up like he did?
At the back of the line, Jonah’s emotions are in equal turmoil. His hands are burning with a physical pain he’s never felt before. Scraping back the lava of his family’s bodies was like tearing their bones apart. Like them, Rebella gave her life for what she believed in, but the cost was too fucking high…
Only Striker is quiet.
There’s a stillness about him that makes my heart thump painfully in my chest and feeds the awful dread that continues to build in the base of my stomach.
I need to know his thoughts and feelings. I need him to open his mind to me, but when I extend my power toward him, I’m met with a wall I can’t get past.
It felt like it took us hours to descend these stairs, but the trip up them takes mere minutes.
We hurry onto the bridge, our surroundings filled with clouds, the wide stone ledge stretching out before us.
Got… Out…
I stumble as the whisper repeats in my mind.
A second later, Vanguard gives a cry. “She’s waking up!”
I sense the way he’s torn between continuing toward the end of the bridge—the direction that must surely contain the way out of the maze—and his need to make sure Rebella is okay, to speak with her as she wakes and ensure she isn’t disoriented or frightened.
He pauses on the bridge, half-turned back to us, while Rebella’s eyelids flutter and her lips part.
She says something, a garbled word that I can’t make sense of,yorma-something, as she nudges her face against his.
Tears fall down his cheeks. “Yes, you got out. I’ve got you. You’re safe now.”
“No…” Her whisper is like a breeze, her lips barely parting, her eyes remaining closed. “Not me.”
Vanguard is suddenly frozen.
Beside me, Striker has paused, his head tilted. Jonah has moved several steps ahead of us, closer to Vanguard.
“Who got out?” Jonah asks, the alarm clear in his voice, even if I couldn’t sense it like a physical force.
“…phoeus,” she whispers, her voice labored.
The blood drains from Vanguard’s face.
Jonah’s eyes have flown wide.
“What are you talking about?” I venture to ask as cold dread threatens to flood my body.
“Typhoeus,” Jonah snarls. “Or as you know him,Typhon.”
Suddenly, Rebella’s voice streams into my mind, a flood of speech so fast it takes me moments to catch up.
