Venna reads the words aloud. “Strength is fire, and loyalty light—both make the hand that wins the fight.”
Instantly, the red fire catches brightly and climbs up the bare stone. It shouldn’t be possible. There’s no fuel for it to burn with. But then,noneof this should be possible.
I watch in somewhat terrified awe as the fire starts to carve tens of symbols all along the walls.
They’re all hands in various positions.
A fist striking down, crushing a broken helm.
An open palm facing outward, as if begging for peace.
A hand holding a small, round mirror.
A hand engulfed in fire, rising high.
Two hands clasped together tightly, chained together at the wrists.
One is holding a crown tight enough to bleed.
“I think we’ll have to choose one,” I say.
There’s a rumbling sound from beyond the walls, deep in the stone. Beside me, Anassa tenses and turns. The flaming walls are pressing closer, dragging and scraping toward us at a steady speed.
“Stark!” I scream.
“We have to choosefast!” Venna shouts.
But he’s already acting. A pulse of his magic shatters through the room. His fists strike out on either side of him, and his strength slams against the stone. They groan and shudder, but Stark’s power holds strong. They’re only barely drawing closer now.
“Anassa, help him!” I plead.
Anassa moves first, then all our wolves throw themselves against the wallsto help slow the crushing press of the stone around us. The rest of us immediately start scanning the symbols.
Stark lets out a growl, glaring forward, already breathing hard. The presence of so much of his magic in an enclosed space makes my ears pop and my eyes sting. His impelling strength channels in a deadly current above my head.
“It’s the hands clasped together. Right? Loyalty!” Noemi cries.
“What?!” Venna spins to look at Noemi’s face.
Noemi points at the symbol she means. “Do I touch it?”
“Wait, don’t! The chain makes it seem unwilling,” Venna says hurriedly.
My eyes scan over the symbols, trying to find one that makes sense. Strength. Loyalty.
We need a symbol that represents both. But there are so many, and my heart is beating too hard for me to think. I can’t focus on anything other than the pained sounds Stark is making.
“Meryn, this one?” Venna shouts, hand hovering over a symbol I can’t even make out.
My eyes are on Stark. He can’t hold out forever. I need to act. I need to help him.
“Work faster,” Stark growls. His arms are starting to shake against the strain. He’s the strongest Daemos alive, but even he has limits.
The walls start to win the fight against Stark. He screams in pain and bends over. His magic pummels through the room, turning my insides to paste. I sob, the panic gripping me in earnest.
And then I realize. Stark is staring at me. His dark eyes are on me, burning as thoughI’mthe source of all this strength. He’s drenched in sweat. His features are set in a furious grimace. But his eyes are all mine.
Loyalty.
