Shadows Entwined (Shadows Descent #3)

24. Violet

24

VIOLET

The hidden door slides open with a low rumble, revealing the dark staircase descending into the underground chambers. A chill emanates from below, carrying the musty scent of ancient secrets.

“Well, here we go again,” Caine remarks dryly as we peer into the gloom.

I take a deep breath, steeling myself. Every instinct I have is telling me not to go down here, but I have to ignore them. Thorne has raised a good question, and I need to know the answer.

Thorne pulls a torch out of the back of his combat pants with a grin. “Figured we might need this.”

“You guys are being very handy today. What would I do without you?”

He chuckles and flashes it down the stairs. None of us are eager to get a move on, so we just stand there, staring into the void.

“Are we backing out?” Flint asks hopefully.

“Sadly, no,” I say and pull my big girl knickers up. Hesitantly, reluctantly, I stick my foot out and place it on the first step. It holds, so I move more of my weight onto it. Then, with a shaky breath, I make my descent, my vampire vision kicking in and helping me find my way. Thorne’s torchlight flashes over my shoulder, letting me know they are following me. The air grows colder with each step, and I shiver.

When we reach the bottom, we are in a vast circular chamber. The walls are lined with alcoves, each housing a skeleton in various states of decay. The sight sends a chill down my spine that has nothing to do with the temperature.

“Cheery place,” Caine mutters, his cane tapping softly against the stone floor.

Thorne’s torch beam sweeps across the room, illuminating ancient symbols carved into the walls between the alcoves. “These look like some kind of warding or protection spells,” he says, moving closer to examine them.

“Protection from what?” I ask, not sure I want to know the answer.

“Or for what,” Flint adds grimly.

We spread out, examining the chamber. There are several archways leading off to other areas, each marked with different symbols. It’s stifling down here, the stench of past years filling my nose.

“So which archway do we take?” I ask. “Anyone willing to offer up an alternative to left?”

Flint snorts. “I’m not willing to offer up any suggestions. They all look as bad as each other.”

“Left it is then,” I mutter and stride over the chamber to the archway on the far left side of where we are standing.

With only a few feet to go before I reach it, the floor gives way.

I let out a startled yelp as the floor crumbles beneath my feet. For a heart-stopping moment, I’m falling into darkness. Then strong arms wrap around me, yanking me back.

“I’ve got you,” Flint grunts, pulling me tight against his chest.

My heart races as I stare at the gaping hole where I’d just been standing. “Thanks,” I breathe, still shaken.

“Careful,” Thorne warns, shining his light into the pit. It seems bottomless, the beam swallowed by inky blackness. “Remember, this place is full of traps.”

“No kidding,” I mutter, stepping back cautiously.

Caine taps his cane on the floor, sending tendrils of ice creeping across the stone. He forms a gleaming bridge of ice across the pit. We cross carefully, the ice creaking ominously beneath our feet. I breathe a sigh of relief when we reach the other side and pass through the archway.

It leads to a long, narrow corridor lined with more alcoves and strange symbols.

“I don’t like this,” Flint mutters, his eyes darting around warily.

“Join the club,” I mutter back, keeping close to the others as we make our way down the corridor.

The air grows thicker, almost oppressive. It feels like the walls are watching us, judging our intrusion. My skin crawls with unease.

“Look,” Thorne says suddenly, his torch beam illuminating a section of wall. “These symbols are different.”

We crowd around, examining the intricate carvings. They seem to depict figures, horrifying creatures, emerging from swirling vortexes.

“The Old Ones?” I ask, hoping I’m so, so wrong.

Caine shrugs grimly. “Maybe. This place does tend to know what we are after when we come down.”

“Seven Old Ones,” Flint mutters. “That’s not good.”

Not good? It’s fucking terrifying. If they all try to cram themselves into my one body, we are going to have a serious housing issue.

I study the carvings intently, trying to glean any useful information. Each figure seems to have unique attributes, which makes sense. One is wreathed in flames, another surrounded by writhing tentacles, a third with multiple faces, the fourth has a body made of shifting shadows, the fifth is surrounded by swirling winds, the sixth seems to be made of living stone, and the seventh appears to glow with light.

“Seven aspects of chaos,” Thorne murmurs, his fingers tracing the carvings. “Fire, water, time, shadow, air, earth, and... light, maybe? Or energy?”

I shudder, imagining these beings trying to force their way into our world. Into me. “How are we supposed to fight all of them?”

“We don’t,” Caine says grimly. “Change of plans. We have to prevent them from fully manifesting in the first place.”

“Easier said than done,” Flint mutters. “We don’t even really know what they are apart from ancient gods.”

As we study the carvings, I notice something else. Beneath each Old One is a smaller figure, humanoid in shape. “Look,” I say, gripping Thorne’s torch and aiming it at the small etchings. “What do you think these represent?”

Thorne leans in closer, his brow furrowed. “Vessels, maybe? Or champions?”

“Champions? Is that worse or better than vessels?”

“Better, I think. They won’t be possessed by the gods, merely imbued with some sort of power to fight on their behalf. One assumes the power of whichever god they champion. You, on the other hand, are a vessel. Much more powerful.”

“It gives us more to work with, though,” Caine points out. “If we can identify and neutralise the champions, it might weaken their hold on this reality.”

I nod slowly, trying to process all this information. “Okay, so we need to be prepared for seven potential champions in addition to the Old Ones themselves. Any ideas on how we identify them?”

Flint runs his hand through his hair, frustration evident. “It’s not like they’ll be wearing name tags. We’ll have to watch for anyone displaying unusual abilities during the Convergence.”

“I would say six, if at all,” Thorne says thoughtfully. “The idea is, the whole reason they didn’t take over the world fifteen hundred years ago was because they were waiting for you, Violet. I think we have to prepare ourselves for the fact that this isn’t going to be one god but, in fact, all of them, entering the vessel—you—to wreak havoc across the realms and take their rightful place as rulers.”

Thorne’s words are not something new. I’d already thought all of them would be on the cards, but hearing it out loud from someone other than me making a joke is sobering. “Wait. Their rightful place? If they were once rulers over these realms, who banished them in the first place?”

“A very good question, snowdrop,” Caine says. “Someone unbelievably old and with the power of a thousand suns.”

“Or someone very dead and no longer able to help,” I point out.

“I was trying to be optimistic,” he states with a huff.

“Okay, noted, but I don’t want optimism. I want reality. Facts. I can’t work with hope when it seems that there is none,” I argue.

“There is always hope.”

“Shut up,” I growl but then realise that none of the guys had said that. It was a fifth voice and one I don’t recognise.

I exchange glances with Thorne, who nods. We turn together slowly, hands raised, to show we are no threat but also to coil enough power to blast whoever this is into the stratosphere if need be.

We turn slowly to face the source of the mysterious voice. In the dim light of Thorne’s torch, I can make out a figure standing in the shadows of the corridor. As they step forward, I tense, ready for a fight.

But the person who emerges isn’t what I expected at all. It’s an older woman, her silver hair pulled back in a neat bun, wearing an old-fashioned professor’s robe. Her eyes, though, are sharp and alert, holding wisdom beyond her apparent years.

“Who are you?” I demand, not lowering my guard despite her harmless appearance.

The woman smiles, a knowing glint in her eye. “I am Magdeline, the one you seek, and you, my dear, are the one we’ve been waiting for.”

I narrow my eyes as I take that in. “Waiting for?” I ask cautiously. “What do you mean?”

Magdeline steps closer, her movements are crooked and slow. “The vessel, of course. The one who will tip the balance in the coming storm.”