At the top, a corridor stretches, long and dark. I take one step forward. Fire erupts, making me jump back. My elbow scrapes raw against the stone, barely clearing the blast.
The fire abruptly stops, but I don’t dare to move yet. I crouch low, gasping, waiting, and counting. Another blast of fire. One breath. Two. Three. The fire cuts off.
Without thinking, I just run.
I sprint, boots hammering against the stone, lungs burning as the flame erupts again behind me. Heat licks at my back, searing. I stumble and roll, shoulder screaming as it grinds against jagged stone. My dagger falls from my hand. I scramble after it with shaking fingers, just barely closing around the hilt.
Another turn. Another blast. This one catches my side, heat biting deep into skin. I choke back a cry. I make a silentvow that when I get out of this, I’m kicking both Calder and Alistair’s asses. Twice.
The only way forward is a ladder that juts from the ceiling at the end of the corridor. My hands slip on the rungs, slick with blood and sweat. My arms scream with every pull.
I drag myself onto the ledge above. Something lunges at me, causing the torchlightto die out as it hits the ground.
A fanged gloomstalker slams into me, shrieking, teeth flashing. Its weight drives me back. I barely get the dagger up in time. Sparks hiss as its teeth snap against steel.
Its hunched, scaly body is small—less than half my size. It has bat-like, leathery wings, pointed ears, and sharp teeth.
My boots skid against stone. I kick wildly. One connects, making the gloomstalker skid back. I don’t even get time to breathe before it springs again.
This time, its teeth sink into my side. White-hot pain explodes as a strangled cry tears out of me. I slam my fist into its head, kicking again harder. It stumbles, screeches, and lunges yet again. I don’t think. I don’t breathe. I just rush forward, driving the dagger straight into its chest.
The shriek it makes rips through my ears like glass. Then, it collapses, limp and twitching.
I stand frozen, chest heaving, blood running warm down my ribs. My legs buckle, and I drop against the wall. With shaking hands, I tear strips of my shirt off. Wrapping the wound is clumsy, every tug sending spikes of pain through me.
Not good enough. I doubt it will hold, but it’s all I have.
I lean my head back against the wall, my breaths coming in uneven gasps. I turn my head, scanning the chamber I’vestumbled into. It’s lined with coffins, cracked open, with glowing white flowers curling around the stone lids like fingers. The air here feels wrong. Colder.
A lever juts from the floor. It feels too obvious, but what else can I do? I stand slowly, a wave of dizziness crashing over me. My hand shoots out to steady myself against the wall. I close my eyes and take a few deep breaths. When the dizziness subsides, I take a few steps toward the lever and pull it.
I spin in a slow circle. Nothing. Just silence.
Maybe it opened something below? Or…maybe it just woke somethingworse.
Gods, please don’t let it be the latter.
I retrace my steps, each movement agony, dread clawing tighter with every breath. When I reach the fire corridor again, bile rises in my throat. I wait, but the fire doesn’t come. Instead, the ceiling ahead gives a low groan, then a chunk of stone crashes down. Dust clouds erupt, choking and blinding me. I stumble, coughing, blinking tears.
A hidden door appears, cracking open. I shove it open the rest of the way, wary, and step into a chamber with a sunken floor. Above, an opening shows the open sky. I freeze, staring upward, imagining what it would be like to climb out that way, to be free. But the walls curve smooth and sheer, impossible to scale.
A pedestal stands at the center, silent and ominous.
My magic stirs, jagged golden lines racing up my arms and neck, shining brightly in a way it never has before. Panic claws at my chest, rising too fast, too thick. I stagger back. Light blooms from my fingertips, curling outward across the stone likeliquid, tendrils of light racing ahead toward the pedestal as though it knows the way. My breath hitches, and my eyes widen in disbelief.
The pedestal responds instantly. Cracks spread across its surface, glowing. The stone splits, revealing spiral stairs descending into shadow. My heart slams against my ribs as I stare at my shaking hands, the faint glow still clinging to them.
Magic.Mymagic. Alive and moving without my command, like it remembers something I cannot.
Without warning, a memory flickers of a field of violet flowers. I hear a woman’s laugh, warm and strangely familiar. It's gone as quickly as it came.
I grit my teeth. With no time to question it, I descend the stairs.
At the bottom, a vast chamber yawns open, lined with towering pillars. Winged statues with grotesque faces twisted in frozen snarls stand on each side, clutching stone blades. Gloomstalkers, maybe. But not like the fanged one. These are bigger. Worse.
I move past them slowly and carefully. The silence weighs down on me.
Scratch.
