They spread.
Webs ignite all around me, fire racing through the strands, turning everything into a collapsing, burning trap. I’m not saved, no, I’m just going to die a different way. By fire, or by falling, whichever comes first.
“Alette!” Oberon shouts.
I twist, heart hammering, and see him on the staircase below, one arm braced against the stone, the other still lit with flame. His eyes are locked on me, sharp and furious and focused.
“Hold on!” he shouts.
I tighten my grip, ignoring the burning in my hands, the tremor in my arms, the way the strand is already starting to give beneath me.
I’m slipping.
I’m going to fall…
The others cluster below are tense and alert, their attention fixed on me. Ashton is already tracking the web, eyes moving fast, searching for a path, for where to use his air powers to save me. Sylvian stays anchored to the earth, holding the staircase together by sheer force of will even as it groans beneath thestrain. Cassius stands rigid beside him, gaze locked upward, jaw tight, every inch of him focused on keeping the space around Sylvian clear. They’re ready to move. Ready to act. Waiting on me.
“What do we do?” Ashton asks. “I could use my air–”
Cassius’s voice comes out, calm. “Your air will feed the fire around her. Anything we do will hurt her more. She needs to get out of this herself. We just need to keep the spiders away from her while she untangles herself.”
I have to do this? Okay. Okay. “I can do this.” The words come out sharper than I feel, more a command to myself than anything else.
I tighten my grip on the web and start moving through the intricate trap I’m in, heading back to the staircase. The strands cling immediately, dragging at my arms and legs, sticking to my clothes, my skin. My other arm is still half-bound, the silk pulling tight as I wrench it free, the fibers stretching before snapping loose with a sharp sting that makes me wince. Every movement is a fight, every inch gained hard-won. My sword still tightly gripped in my hand is finally free. I use it to slash at the web, the blade cutting cleanly, opening just enough space to push forward.
The web structure shifts under me as soon as I’m loose from the cocoon I was in, the web trembling, sagging in places where the fire has begun to eat through it. I resheath my sword knowing now what I have to do next. I need my arms free if I’m going to climb back to the staircase.
I freeze for half a heartbeat, gripping tight as the web sways, then force myself to start moving. Looking back isn’t an option. The only way out is forward.
“Alette, keep moving! You’re almost to the stairs!” Ashton’s voice cuts through the noise, sharp and urgent as he uses his air to throw a spider from a web, splattering it below.
“You can do this!” Sylvian pants.
I lift my head, locking onto them. They feel impossibly far, but I move anyway, dragging myself along the strands, cutting where I have to, pulling free where I can’t. The air is thick with smoke now, the smell of burning silk heavy in my lungs. Every breath burns. My muscles shake with the effort, but I don’t stop.
Time passes. I stay focused. Inching closer. Closer and closer to the staircase.I’ve got to be close.
I suck in a breath, my chest tight, and look down. Oberon stands on the staircase, one arm braced, the other still lit with flame, his gaze locked on me with fierce intensity. Finally close. Nearly close enough to touch.
“Hurry up,” he calls, voice rough, edged with strain.
Relief washes over me, gone almost as quickly as it comes. The web is failing beneath me, the fire spreading faster now, heat rising in waves that make it harder to think, harder to breathe. The strands tremble, sagging, threatening to give way entirely.
“Move!” Oberon shouts.
I do. I force myself forward, ignoring the burn in my lungs, the tremor in my arms, the way everything feels like it’s about to collapse. One hand, then the other. One swing of my legs. Then another. The web shifts with every movement, but I keep going, driven by the only thing that matters.
Them.
Oberon reaches for me the second I’m close enough, his grip firm despite everything. I take his hand, and he pulls me against him so suddenly I nearly fall into his chest.
I can’t breathe.The fear, the relief, the sheer force of it crashes through me all at once as I cling to him, my grip tight, my body shaking.
But there’s no time to stop.
The web is still burning. The spiders are still hungry. Sylvian is fading. And we’re not out yet.
“You really are something,” Oberon mutters, giving me a tight squeeze before letting me go.
