The Obsidian Cavesmaterialize around me for the third time.
Music pulses through the air, floating flames cast flickering shadows across the stone, and people laugh and drink with no idea what’s coming.
“Sixteen minutes that time.” Logan’s hand squeezes mine. Sweat’s dripping down his face, his skin so gray he looks like a walking corpse, and the flames flickering at his fingertips are sputtering, uneven lights. “There are too many of them and not enough of us. This time, we’re organizing smaller groups and sending them through different tunnels. We’ll divide the hellhounds’ attention, bottleneck them, and take them out one by one.”
“Okay.” My voice sounds as dead as the people I keep failing at saving, and when I glance down at my hand, my fingers are trembling. “I’ll take Sam, Elizabeth, and Francis.”
“Lead them through the leftmost eastern tunnel.” He points at it to show me which one it is. “It’s narrower, which will make it harder for the hellhounds to swarm. I’ll organize the other groups and make sure everyone knows where to go.”
“What about Nina and Vera?”
“I’ll put them in Deidre’s group, in one of the western tunnels.” His lips press into a hard line. “We can’t save everyone ourselves. We have to trust that the other groups can fight.”
Right. Because that worked so well in the previous two timelines.
But I don’t have the energy to argue, so I just nod and scan the cave for Sam’s familiar face.
There.
He’s alive. They’reallalive.
But Logan and I aren’t miracle workers. There’s no way everyone will get out of this unharmed. We just have to save as many lives as possible without me having to expose myself by pulling lightning from the sky.
Does a timeline exist where my magic won’t be the only thing that can save us all? Or are we repeating this loop so Logan will understand and accept why I have to do it, just like I had to understand and accept that we couldn’t save Oliver?
“Hellhounds!” Logan screams across the cave, and then he’s calling out orders for everyone to get into groups, assigning leaders, and telling them which tunnels to take.
They listen to him. Of course they listen to him. He’s Logan Ashford, andeveryonelistens to Logan Ashford.
Red eyes glow in the darkness, hungry growls echo off the stone, and the hellhounds pour out of the tunnels like a tide of matted fur and teeth.
The chaos begins. But this time, people are moving in multiple directions and splitting into clusters, like Logan instructed.
“Sam!” I shove through the crowd and grab his arm. “Elizabeth! Francis! Come with me!”
The leftmost eastern tunnel branches off from the main cave, barely wide enough for two people to walk side by side. The hellhounds will have trouble swarming us here.
One at a time, we can handle. One at a time, we might survive.
“Keep moving!” I push Sam ahead of me, keeping Elizabeth and Francis between us. “Don’t stop, and don’t look back!”
The screaming starts behind us.
I try not to think about who’s screaming, who’s dying, and who’s being torn apart while I run in the opposite direction. But the howls, the shrieks, and the wet tearing follows us into the tunnel, and I swear they’re going to haunt my nightmares for the rest of my life.
A hellhound appears ahead of us, its red eyes glowing in the darkness.
I throw a bolt of electricity before it can lunge. Sam adds a fireball that catches its flank as it falls, making sure it stays down.
We keep running.
“Behind us!” Francis screams, already throwing fire over my shoulder as I spin.
Two hellhounds are charging down the tunnel, their massive bodies barely fitting in the narrow space. Francis’s flames slow the first one enough for me to hit it with a bolt that sends it crashing into the wall. The second one keeps coming, but Sam pelts it with fireballs while I hit it again, and again, until it finally falls.
“Move!” I shove Elizabeth forward.
The tunnel twists and turns, and I lose track of how far we’ve gone. All I know is that we’re still alive, still moving, and still fighting.
