“The submerged passage to the left.” Wickett said, appearing beside me. Blood ran from his ribs. “I think it circles the outside, but it’s the only way out.”
The math was simple. That passage was too long. Most of us would drown.
Most.
But I’d already figured out the trick. The water flow, the temperature, the pattern of the ceiling’s collapse—it all pointed to one thing. Tiberius wasn’t trying to kill every single one of us. He needed Venatori. Pulling from Silas’s well of power, I followed the path of every drop of water in mere seconds. I couldn’t afford to get this wrong.
Just as I thought, the passage wasn’t straight. It curved up halfway through. There’d be an air pocket there, tiny, but enough for a breath if you knew where to look.
“Follow me closely,” I said to Wickett, then dove, fingers gripping around the stone like a lifeline. Lucette would be on our trail immediately.
The passage was narrow and black and infinite. But water was mine to control. And the Magistrate knew that too. Perhaps he wanted to save a Rune Weaver, but I knew it was more symbolic than that. If a witch had to live, then let it be the one that promised a modicum of salvation from the Burning. A water witch’s only benefit.
I couldn’t make air from nothing, but I could make water move. I created a current, subtle, fast, invisible. It pushed us through at impossible speed and slowed everyone behind us. Halfway through, we swam up, finding a six-inch gap of air at the tunnel’s peak. We both gasped, filled our lungs, then dove back down, leaving no space for anything but winning. Escaping. Surviving.
Wickett’s hand found my ankle after that breath, gripping hard enough to bruise. No doubt he felt it. The unnaturalvelocity. Maybe even the strength of my power. We burst into the exit chamber, crawling out of the water as we coughed. I looked down to see the blisters forming on my skin. Red, hot and swollen, the deadly water’s mark was excruciating.
“Explain,” Wickett said immediately.
“Explain what?”
“You knew. The air pocket. The current. The temperature of the stones.” He moved closer, eyes narrowed. “You read that maze like you designed everything.”
“I read water. It’s what I do.”
He moved closer still. Close enough that I had to tilt my head back to maintain eye contact. Close enough that I could see the silver scars on his throat in detail. “You counted the exits in the arena. You count heartbeats to track time. You knew the ceiling pattern after seeing it twice.” His voice dropped lower. “You’re not just a water witch. You’re something... trained. Something that thinks like us but fights like them.”
“Like whom?”
“Like someone who’s been hunted before.”
I stood like he’d slapped me. Jaw open, eyes wide. “I keep my head down. I’m damn good at my job. I don’t make waves. But that doesn’t mean I’m not targeted, and if you don’t think every single witch in Grimora, hells, in Fuerlis, is exactly the same, you’re wrong.”
His nostrils flared, eyes narrowing. His fingers even flexed. I’d done it. The one reckless thing I should have fucking avoided. Standing toe to toe with the Ripper as if I could teach him some kind of life lesson with logic.
But instead of a fight, he simply turned and led the way out. We climbed from the maze to find that only some from the four teams had survived. The crowd was quiet. Gawking at a hunter and witch standing together, both breathing, neither trying to kill the other. Yet.
Healers rushed toward us, but Wickett caught my wrist. His grip was firm, controlled, his thumb finding my pulse point. Reading my heartbeat. Still steady. Still lying.
Then he pressed something into my palm. Small. Sharp-edged.
A Hunter’s Promise stone.
To everyone watching, it looked like a threat. The stone meant he’d claimed my death for himself, no other hunter could touch me without challenging him directly.
“I claim your life, Syneca Black,” he said, loud enough for others to hear.
Shit.
I let the stone fall from my hand, but the mark was already seared into my palm. Permanently. Two crescent moons back-to-back, mirroring each other. “Can’t wait.”
He released me to the healers, but we both looked back. Him with calculation. Me with the knowledge that I’d just been given a pass by the person most likely to kill me. Because now the Phoenix was safe from every other hunter. What a fool he was.
From his elevated cage, Calder watched us with murder in his eyes.
Then the Oracle’s raven screamed.
And not its usual caw.
