I slam back to full consciousness.
There’s a disorienting spinning sensation for a moment and an agonizing pain in my chest. I curl my fingers, testing them. There’s hot liquid under my hand. My blood, I realize. Finally, I get my lungs working.
When I open my eyes, my surroundings are blurry.
I blink rapidly. Slowly, Stark comes into focus. He’s still holding me, face close. And the anguish in his features makes me feel as if I’m dying all over again.
“Hi,” I say weakly.
He rears back as if he’s been slapped, searching my face with pure shock. The pain from moments ago slips into something disbelieving. His mouth drops open.
Stark’s hands, sticky with my blood, come to my cheeks—so gentle, as if I’ll disappear if he touches me too hard. “You’re here?” His voice is wondering.
“I’m here,” I say, reaching out to touch his own stubbled cheek.
He rips his face away from my touch, anger blazing across his expression.
That his emotions are so clear is a little threatening, actually—when someone normally so steady breaks, you’ve really fucked up.
“Whatwasthat?!” he roars.
I wince, and his grip on me gentles instantly. His voice doesn’t, though. The contrast between the two makes me dizzy again.
“You weredead, Meryn! How could you do that to me—to us? We all saw it. Even Anassa—she fell. She—” His voice chokes off.
I manage to turn my head to the side, and I see Cratos standing over Anassa protectively, eyes wild, lips curled back in a snarl.
Stark gets so angry, he stops talking entirely. His hands are still shaking as he helps me sit up.
Iwasdead.
Or I thought I was.
Or, I must have been for the magic to accept my sacrifice?
What happened in that shadow realm? What brought me back?
Stark lets me go and steps away, pacing over to his wolf. He puts a hand on Cratos’s snout, murmurs something to him. Cratos’s ears come forward, just a little.
They both stare at me, naked emotion still swirling in dark eyes.
I shy away from it, too disoriented to engage.
I look for my friends. Venna and Noemi are nearby with their wolves. Both stand far enough away that their boots don’t touch the pool of my blood. And we’re not…
We’re not in the chamber with the altar any longer.
We aren’t even underground, I realize. Light is coming in the tall, thin windows high above us.
Yet my blood still stains the floor so… thisiswhere I fell. Somehow.
“Where… are we?”
When Venna steps forward, my attention is entirely on her. “That’s it?” Her glaring eyes are red-rimmed, her hands in fists.
“What?” I croak.
“What you did wasshitty, Meryn!” she shouts. “We thought we lost you!”
