Riven locks his hand around my jaw and turns my face toward his. His devilish smirk is the only warning I get before he seals his lips to mine in a reckless kiss.
“Enough. We’ve got company.” Creed huffs, and reality halts my body from inching any closer to Riven.
I break our embrace and choke down the panting breaths falling from my lips. My flaming face peers over my shoulder toward Doren’s and Nero’s curious glances.
Damn. If they hadn’t already put our dynamic together, they definitely have a good idea now.
Sorry, Sevryn. I’m pretty sure I just gave Doren a lot of hope.
Kyzen chuckles as I fully release the grip I still have on Amick and run my hands down his breastplate of armor as if I’m smoothing it out.
“Where are we going?” Sevryn asks as his gaze stays forward, and his eyebrows narrow.
Mine jump up to my hairline as the structure ahead of us steals my attention.
Well, that’s unwelcoming.
The obsidian black stone structure resembles a temple, yet I know for a fact there’s no worshipping happening in there. The handfuls of windows that line the front are darkened, obscuring what, or rather, who’s inside.
The layout of this…ring is incredibly similar to the one we just left.
Honestly, it looks as though that dark hole we jumped through morphed into the building once we hit this level. There’s nothing else but the stone walls, ground, torches, and that black structure.
“This is very strange,” Doren murmurs.
This is the first time I’ve noticed his eyes glowing. Not only that, but the lime green shade is quite striking.
It’s incredibly different compared to the darker shade of Mellcom’s, or—Never mind.
“This whole place is strange. What’s your point? Where are we going?”
I cut my eyes at Sevryn and his tone. He stares at me blankly. Well, not really. The glare more so says, ‘don’t give me shit right now.’
Poor thing.
“Are there more levels than the ones we’ve been informed of? Like a level within a level?”
Creed’s soul thrashes against mine. He shuts it down just as fast, but the muscles in his neck flex, and his chest slowly deflates.
“Why?” he asks.
“Well, when I look over my path…” Doren waves his hand through the air as though he can actually see something we can’t. His arm stops moving with his palm facing somewhere randomly to the right.
“This direction is where my line leads me, yet the inner area is darker than the rest of the landscape.”
Creed’s fingers flex at his sides as his gaze narrows.
“You’re sure that’s where it’s leading you?”
“Positive.”
Doren nods as he continues to drift his hand in the air. My attention, though, doesn’t linger on whatever he’s doing.
“Creed,” Amick mumbles and our whole Valtrue pivots toward him.
Other than his trembling fist, he stands still like he’s in shock. As gently as I can, I stroke his soul and skim my fingers across his knuckles.
“What is it?”
