The Songbird and the Heart of Stone (Crowns of Nyaxia #3)

Chapter 8

CHAPTER EIGHT

G et up.

At first, it was Atroxus saying it, the echo of his voice haunting me like a ghost.

Get up.

GET UP.

Something hard and cold nudged my shoulder, right over one of my remaining wounds from Egrette’s beating.

“Ow!” I yelped.

My eyes snapped open.

Luce glowered down at me.

My head was pounding. The memory of Atroxus’s visit haunted me. My gaze flicked down to my arm—where my tattoo sat beneath my sleeve—but I knew without looking at it that it wouldn’t be glowing anymore. Still, I had no doubts that the meeting had been real, not a dream, and the consequences of it made my head spin.

I will kill a god.

I let out a long, shaky breath, steadying myself beneath the weight of my task, which struck me all over again.

I just had to travel to the underworld with my Shadowborn captor, resurrect the god of death, and then kill him—ideally without starting another war of either the mortal or immortal varieties.

I tried to tell myself that it sounded no less outlandish than any of my other reckless missions.

Tried.

And anyway, a cruel voice whispered in the back of my mind, how did those end?

Another blunt shove, somehow in just the right place to be as painful as possible, had me yelping again.

“Fine, fine.” I raised my hands. “I’m getting up, Luce.”

She thrust her snout to the ground beside her. A pile of clothes sat, neatly folded, next to her. They appeared to be practical leathers, not quite armor but only a few steps from it.

The message was clear: change .

I picked up the clothing, unfolding the shirt—a white blouse in the House of Shadow style, loose with a leather vest designed to go over it, and tight-fitting black pants with boots that reached their knees. Not my style, but I’d take it in a heartbeat over my stained, dirty dress, which now reeked of my blood and gods knew what else.

“Privacy?” I asked. “Please?”

I wasn’t especially modest, but getting ogled by a skull wolf was a little much even for me. I was a priestess, after all.

Luce didn’t dignify that with a response.

Figured.

I sighed and began to strip.

The clothes were restrictive, but at least they were clean, so I instantly felt more prepared for what I was about to do. Marginally. I’d take what I could get.

Luce led me through another conjured door, then down Morthryn’s winding hallways. This time, instead of going up, we went down—down stairways that coiled like dueling snakes. The vegetation on the walls grew thicker with every turn. Ivy and roses crunched beneath my feet. It got darker, and darker, and darker. When I was Turned, I’d been forced to embrace the darkness, but I had never stopped mourning the sun. And here, in shadows so deep that they strained even vampire eyes, it felt so painfully far away.

Eventually, we came to a door—a single circle of stone nestled among overgrown roses. At a nudge of Luce’s nose, it creaked open, and I peered inside.

The hairs stood at the back of my neck. This was an old, old place—my bones reacted to it, like the pressure of a body crushed under the ocean. I felt time—thousands of years, pressing down on my shoulders, their weight oppressive. There was no decoration here, just plain, smooth stone. An archway revealed a set of stairs that spiraled down.

The room was empty, save for one woman who sat on the floor, back to the wall. The smell hit me before the sight of her did—the thick, sweet scent of human blood.

The woman’s eyes fell to me. They were pale blue, bracketed by faint lines. She twirled a long strand of wavy black-and-silver hair in one wrinkled hand. She wore an outfit that was a near exact match to mine—white shirt, black leather vest, plain trousers. A small gold emblem dangled around her throat.

It took me a moment to recognize her. After all, she looked so different when she wasn’t dead.

And—gods—she really, really wasn’t dead. She was so alive that it briefly made me question my sanity—had I really seen her corpse? Had I really helped bring it back to life?

Chandra lifted one hand. “Hello.” She had a lovely voice, youthful and melodic, even though the word was uncertain.

It was one thing to know, logically, that necromancy was possible. It was a whole other thing to see the results of it right in front of you.

I heard the echo of Asar’s voice— Are you excited or horrified?

I smiled at Chandra and waved back. “Hello.”

She shied away as I stepped closer. I stopped short, pinching my lips closed as my tongue pressed to the tip of my pointed teeth.

“It’s all right. You don’t have to worry about me like that.” I settled on the ground next to her, keeping a healthy space between us. “I’m…”

I almost said, Like you. But of course, I wasn’t, was I?

Instead, I opened my palm and summoned a wisp of flame.

Chandra’s fear fell away. Her eyes lit up.

“A vampire who wields the power of Atroxus,” she gasped. “I’ve never seen such a thing.”

Her accent sounded painfully familiar. It had been so long since I’d been to the human nations that the memory of the many languages I’d once known now blended together. Still, the affectation was slight. She’d been in Obitraes a long time.

How old was she? She was maybe a hard sixty years or an easy seventy. I guessed closer to the former.

Her face broke into a smile. I found myself appreciating the lines that framed her eyes and mouth. Wrinkles had grown so much more lovely to me once I’d realized I would never bear them myself. I liked being around humans. They reminded me of home.

She looked nothing like Saescha—her skin was freckled, eyes fair—but when she made the sign of the sun over her chest just like my sister used to, a raw familiarity twisted in my chest. Maybe Saescha’s hands would look like these if she’d gotten the chance to grow old.

“How are—” I stopped myself. How much did Chandra remember of what had happened to her, I wondered? Did she remember her death? Did she even know she’d died?

Finally, I settled on, “Are you feeling all right?”

Her smile wavered. “Sweet girl,” she murmured. “You’re trying so hard to spare my feelings, and for that, Light bless you. He told me what happened to me. Though I admit, I don’t know if it’s sunk in.” She rubbed her temple. “I feel…?odd. Like I drank too much wine last night. I felt like I was sleeping. I don’t remember…?how it happened. It’s a shadow out of the corner of my eye. I was there. Now I am here.” She smiled weakly. “Perhaps that’s for the best.”

Every word of it was uncomfortably familiar—from her description to the forced smile. My Turning was a mangled blur in my head, the memories directionless paint smears that didn’t form a complete picture. I remembered my arrival in Obitraes. I remembered waking up in an inn with Raihn leaning over me. Everything in between…

Well, perhaps that was for the best, too.

She leaned closer, a line of worry between her brows. “Did he tell you what he plans to?—”

Behind me, the door opened. Chandra’s eyes lifted over my shoulder, her mouth closing instantly. Strange, how I felt him before I saw him—the cold sensation of shadow falling over my back.

I turned to see Asar in the doorway. Luce trotted over to him to wind around his legs. Though he’d given Chandra and me clothing akin to armor, he apparently didn’t think he needed any such protection. He wore the same black pants and black shirt and a long leather jacket. A pack was slung over one shoulder, and a sword hung at his hip in an ornate copper sheath that glinted, barely visible, beneath his coat.

He barely glanced at us.

“You both look rested,” he said, striding across the room. “Good. We have a long journey ahead. Get up. Let’s go.”

I got to my feet, confused.

“Go where?” I said.

Asar gave me a pitying look, like I was very stupid. He really never missed an opportunity to do that.

I sighed. “Yes, the underworld, I know. I got that part. But it’s just—aren’t we in a basement right now?”

I couldn’t make any more sense of the layout of Morthryn than before, when Luce led me down here. But I knew we’d only gone one direction: down. I’d heard lots of stories about journeys to the underworld, most of them ancient, most of them fictional, and most of them vague on the how part. I imagined that opening such a passage would take an immense amount of magic.

“We have a long walk ahead, Dawndrinker,” Asar said wearily. He dumped the pack on the ground and knelt down to rummage through it. “I assume your legs and mouth can work at the same time.”

He was such an ass.

“Well,” I muttered, “you’re in a hurry?—”

The door flew open hard enough to slam against the wall, the BOOM of metal against stone clapping through the room. Chandra jumped. I spun around.

A tall, broad-shouldered man stood in the door, wearing Shadowborn military leathers and a long green cloak. His hair was wet and messy. He held a blade in one hand, which dripped red blood onto the floor.

He looked pissed .

His face was so contorted in his obvious fury that it took me a moment to recognize him: the princess’s guard. The one who had been with her in my cell.

“Did you think that would fucking work?” he snarled.

Asar did not bother to turn. But from my angle, I could see the wince flit across his face. I felt it, too—a fleeting pang of frustration.

“You’re late,” he said coolly. “Weren’t you supposed to be here at nightfall?”

“You sent me on a Mother-damned goose chase.”

Asar straightened slowly. He peered over his shoulder and flicked a cold, nonchalant glance at the door.

“Did the moat get you? Easy mistake. No shame in getting lost, Elias. Morthryn is a complicated place.”

I pressed my lips together tight, trying very hard not to have any expression. Suddenly, I understood why Asar had been in such a rush to depart.

Elias’s rage collected in the room like smoke.

“You were leaving,” he said.

“We couldn’t wait for you.” Asar turned back to his pack. “Besides, perhaps you’re more useful here. There might be important guarding work that needs doing. Peasants that need slaughtering. Women that need beating. Royal rings that need kissing. That sort of thing.”

Women that need beating. He cast just the quickest glance my way at that, tossing me a leather pack. I caught it. It took me a moment to realize that line had been referring to me . The entire string of insults, in fact, had been delivered so smoothly that it took a few seconds for them to sink in.

It was impressive. If he was anywhere near as good at physical assassination as he was at verbal assassination, no wonder he’d earned himself an intimidating nickname.

Elias stepped into the room, letting the door slam behind him. Chandra jumped again at the sound, falling back into the shadows.

“That’s terribly hypocritical of you, isn’t it, Asar?”

“That’s not my title.” Asar handed the second pack to Chandra, who took it like a mouse snatching a piece of cheese from a trap.

A vein pulsed erratically at Elias’s temple.

“My prince,” he ground out between his teeth.

Asar still didn’t deign to even glance at Elias, but a smirk flickered across his lips.

So, so petty.

“I’m not here by the command of the princess,” Elias said. “I am here by the command of the king. And surely you know, my prince, that despite your newfound position of heir, you’re still bound by your oaths to him, as I am. So—and please, correct me if I’m -mistaken—I don’t think you’re in a position to turn me away.”

Asar’s smile disappeared. A muscle now twitched at his jaw.

Oaths . I got the feeling that we were speaking of something much deeper than typical vows of loyalty. The most powerful of the Shadow-born were known to use their powers of compulsion to create bonds of absolute blood loyalty among their key followers. It was difficult and rare, but Raoul was certainly capable of it.

Asar’s resentment wafted from him like smoke. He was silent for a long moment as he closed up his pack, then stood and slung it over his shoulder.

“Fine,” he said. “Good timing. We were just going.”

A breeze rustled my curls into my eyes. I adjusted my bag over my shoulder and wrangled them back into submission with my free hand.

“So—going where, exactly?” I chanced. “We’re still in?—”

“Morthryn,” Asar said. “Yes.”

He stood at the other door, that cavernous arch where stairs disappeared into nothingness. The wind picked up when he ventured closer, and another gentle gust had me swallowing the cold scent of flower petals.

The darkness called to me. I found myself stepping closer, closer?—

A hand caught my arm.

“Careful,” Asar said.

I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the staircase. Nothing about it looked unusual. Indeed, it was downright plain compared to everything else I’d seen of Morthryn—narrow stone spiral stairs with walls devoid of any decoration, not even lanterns to light the way.

It reminded me of an open mouth swallowing a great inhale.

“Don’t you know what this place is, child?” Chandra said softly.

More than a prison.

Morthryn was a relic from another time, when this land was still the territory of Alarus, before vampires existed at all. Of course it was more than a place to let criminals rot, and of course its true nature would be kept from the other vampire Houses.

I could smell it. Taste it. Death.

No wonder.

I looked at Asar, wide-eyed.

“It’s a door,” I said.

“Bridge would probably be a more accurate comparison.” He gazed down into the darkness with the affection of one greeting an old friend. “A bridge to the underworld.”

Asar was wrong. It wasn’t a bridge. Bridges were flat. Nice and flat and straight.

This was a staircase. A staircase comprised of, surely, at least one million stairs. Stairs that were just narrow enough and just steep enough that you couldn’t quite get a good rhythm with the pace of your steps.

My thighs burned. Chandra was already swaying, and we hadn’t even made it to the actual Descent yet. It seemed a little cruel to put her through this when she’d died a few days ago, especially given that she was a sixty-odd-year-old human.

I was grateful, at least, that Asar decided to offer up some real information as we dragged ourselves down staircase after staircase.

“We’ll need to travel through the five Sanctums of the Descent,” Asar told us while we walked. He was not out of breath, and I hated him for it. “Body, Breath, Psyche, Secrets, and Soul. To resurrect anyone else, it’s enough to merely bring together representations of each of the five elements of a mortal being. But we aren’t talking about a mortal.”

My brow knitted. “So the five elements of Alarus’s essence are…?in the path to the underworld? Why?”

I couldn’t keep the note of eager curiosity from my voice. I wished I could pretend that my interest was solely in service of my task. Even the oldest scriptures didn’t talk about Alarus much. He’d been dead for two thousand years, and after his death, Nyaxia had turned his territories into the vampire kingdoms. Every other god had acolytes to spread the word of their scriptures and practice their magic. But no one had worshipped Alarus for a long time, and that meant most of his mythos had been lost to time.

“The mortal world and the underworld are both far older than the Descent,” Asar said. “Alarus understood that death was a journey, not a stark end. He wanted to ease the transition from life to death.”

“Right. Hence the Sanctums.” I knew this part, at least. “So mortals can shed life piece by piece.”

“Yes. But even by god standards, constructing a new realm was an intimidating project. He would have had to offer a part of himself to each Sanctum. And those relics are the only things we know of that are powerful enough to fuel his resurrection.” A pause, and then, pointedly, he said, “Your sun god, apparently, knew that, too. He put measures in place to prevent anyone from attempting exactly what we’re about to do.”

“He did?” I tried to sound surprised, but not too surprised. Just the right amount of surprised. “So that’s why you need us?”

“Yes. That, Dawndrinker, is why I need you.”

“Gods help us,” Chandra murmured to herself.

Asar was several steps ahead of me, and he didn’t look back as he spoke. Even with vampire eyesight, I could only just make out his silhouette—square shoulders, a mess of dark hair, the flowing shape of his jacket. Fittingly impenetrable.

“Did Nyaxia tell you all this?” I asked.

A beat. “Yes.”

That was a partial truth if I’d ever heard one.

I wondered what that meeting had looked like. Did Nyaxia come to Asar in his cluttered office back at the surface? Did he fall to his knees in prostration before her, just like I’d done for Atroxus?

I found it hard to imagine Asar prostrating in general. He didn’t seem like the type who went to his knees easily, goddess or no. Even his deference to the king had been so palpably resentful.

I wondered what Nyaxia had told him. The unwanted images of Atroxus’s vision flashed through my mind—the Citadel in flames, the blood-red sky, the ocean shores littered with maimed bodies.

Did Asar know what would happen if he succeeded? Had Nyaxia spun a different future for him? Or had she simply offered him something he wanted so much that he didn’t care?

“What if Alarus should stay dead?”

I blurted out the question before I meant to and instantly regretted it. Gods damn my mouth.

Asar stopped short. I nearly tumbled into him, catching myself just in time to avoid colliding with his back, but I still found myself only inches away when he turned. I was two steps behind, which put us nearly nose to nose. His left eye was bright silver, like a cloud-shrouded moon.

“What if Alarus should stay dead?” He put great emphasis on every word, like he was speaking to a small child, and a stupid one at that.

This sparked a little flame of aggravation. He was acting like it was a foolish question, but it wasn’t.

“If you’re so well-read, you must know that messing with the affairs of gods can be catastrophic,” I said. “What makes you think that it would be a good thing to bring Alarus back?”

Asar’s face was still as marble. “Was it a good thing ”—he drew out the phrase with sharp stabs of sarcasm—“that Alarus was killed to begin with?”

“Well, it wasn’t good, but it was—” Necessary felt like a cruel term. I bit it back. “The White Pantheon thought they were protecting the peace.”

“And did they protect the peace?”

“They avoided war.”

“You say that because hellfire didn’t rain down from the skies. But there are many ways to wage a war, Iliae. I know that better than most. I suspect the vampires your kind dismembered for their holy offerings knew it, too.”

My face was hot. He started to turn away, but—stupidly, recklessly—I grabbed his shoulder and pulled him back.

“I’ve been caught up in other people’s wars my entire life,” I said. “I do know what that means. And that’s why I know that it’s not a decision to?—”

A wave of cold passed over me. A shiver ran up my left arm, the one holding Asar’s shoulder, and then the next thing I knew, it was at my side again. I looked down to see wriggling black waves rolling across my skin like sand blowing over the dunes, encircling my hand before melting back into the stone.

“I don’t make this decision lightly,” Asar snapped. “If you have objections you’d like to take up with the Dark Mother, you are welcome to. Or, I can hand you back over to my sister and let her send your head to the House of Night, if that’s a war you’d find more acceptable.”

I shut my mouth, though it took considerable effort.

Words had always been my most valuable weapon—more powerful than the magic, even. They were the lantern I used to peer inside people and then lead them wherever they needed to go.

But that wasn’t the task I’d been given. And besides, Asar was not going to be led anywhere. That was abundantly clear.

“Not to interrupt this riveting discussion.” Elias’s voice came from several steps back, where he’d been standing behind Chandra. “But what is that?”

He pointed. I followed it to the turn in the stairs ahead.

It looked like…?water. Like the edge of the ocean against the shore. But the boundary of it, where the liquid lapped up against the stone steps, glowed an unsettling crimson red. The movement of the ripples didn’t seem quite right, too fast for the stillness of the air.

Asar’s annoyance fell away.

“That,” he said, “is the edge of the veil.”

The membrane that separated the world of the living from the journey toward death. It was said to be lorded over by three guardians—the viper, the songbird, and the lioness.

“We’ll have to pass through the veil?” Chandra whispered. “Wouldn’t that mean dying?”

She was shaking more now. I wondered if her body was reacting to being so close to death yet again, so soon after she’d come back from it. Even if her mind didn’t remember, her flesh would. I knew that firsthand.

“In a sense,” Asar said. “Morthryn will offer us a path through, which will avoid the guardians. But it’s…?more treacherous than it used to be. Be very careful not to call attention to yourselves. And under absolutely no circumstances should you leave the path. You must stay on the path.”

He turned and began walking, waving us to follow. The stairs narrowed, forcing us into a single line—Asar, me, Chandra, Elias, and Luce at the rear.

“Give us some credit,” Elias scoffed. “I think we can manage to walk in a straight line.”

Asar said, “It can be…”

We turned the corner. The red-rimmed not-water lapped up to my calves. It felt like warm nothingness.

The walls fell away. An endless expanse of velvet black spread out around us.

“Holy shit,” I whispered.

“Gods help us,” Chandra murmured, voice wavering.

“Ah,” Elias said, in a tone that reluctantly conceded to Asar’s concerns.

Shimmering, translucent hills extended in all directions, undulating like the sea to the horizon. Clusters of moving dots moved over them, and it took me too long to realize what I was looking at: people. Countless people, reduced to silver-lined silhouettes, dragging themselves over the doorstep of death.

The guardians loomed over all of it. A snake coiled around the dead, so massive I couldn’t make sense of where her body ended or began, scales glinting like stars. Beside her, the lioness perched on her haunches, waves of light rippling over the sleek gleam of her fur. Both wore the faces of golden skulls, cavernous eyes seeing all.

The path rolled out before us in a single narrow, crumbling line of stones suspended in eternal oblivion. It passed right through the center of all of it—through the clusters of the dead, and between the two guardians.

“Intimidating,” Asar finished.

I could’ve sworn that the path wobbled beneath my feet. Was it possible for a bridge suspended by ancient, god-touched magic to collapse? It certainly seemed possible as I gingerly shifted my weight onto another unsteady rock. If this had been a proper bridge at one point, it was now little more than a collection of stones. Most of it was only the width of a single slab. It reminded me of the games I used to play with Eomin when we were children—trying to see who could get across the creeks with the fewest steps. Whoever got wet lost.

The stakes felt a little higher here.

The not-water was now up to my chest. Everything beneath it was cloudy and obscured. I stared down into the darkness below. I could see only a thick blanket of mist, but my body could sense that much more lingered beneath those depths.

Still, as terrifying as looking down was, it was downright comforting compared to the alternatives. The dead were just far away enough that I couldn’t make out their features, and they were partially transparent, as if I saw them through sheets of gauze. But their movements were unnerving enough—lurching, graceless, silently screaming their pain and confusion. Some kept trying to turn around. Others threw their hands up to the blackened sky, reaching for life. The guardians corralled them—the viper with her serpentine body, the lioness with gentle nudges of her great paw. But despite their efforts, the dead devolved into chaos. The lines disintegrated. The souls collected into tangled masses.

“Where is the third guardian?” Elias asked in a near whisper, before I could. “The bird?” He had to turn his head to speak over his shoulder. Asar had rearranged us before we’d stepped onto the bridge—Luce taking up the lead, then Elias, Chandra, me, and Asar.

“The bird fell many years ago,” Asar said. “Keep your eyes forward.”

The not-water was high enough now that Luce was fully submerged. She didn’t hesitate as she passed beneath it—actually, she seemed to relish it, like a mortal dog happily trotting into the sea. Elias seemed far more uncertain. He was so tall that though he was at the front of the group, it was only to his chest, while it neared Chandra’s chin. I could smell her blood, hot and rushing. Hear her heartbeat quickening. She was terrified.

“Gods help us,” she kept whispering.

I caught her hand, squeezing it tight.

“The water is harmless,” Asar said. “Just a representation of the transition from one world to another.”

“Very comforting,” Elias said.

Maybe the water was harmless. But something out there wasn’t. I’d watched warily out of the corner of my eye as Asar had drawn his sword behind us. It was a stunning weapon—a saber with a red blade and a copper grip, the guard forming intricate whorls of ivy around his hand. But the blade was broken, the delicate curve disrupted by a jagged edge several inches before its natural end.

Now, Asar kept it at the ready, vigilantly watching. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to know for what.

I touched my own weapon, a simple sword that Asar had given me before we left. At the time, I’d been surprised he had trusted Chandra and me with weapons. Now, it felt like a toy he’d handed to a child to make them feel useful.

The not-water brushed my chin. Chandra now was beneath the surface, cringing as she ducked her head under. Even though Asar had told us it was harmless, I still found myself bracing as it swallowed me.

I felt breath on my throat. A hand on my thigh. A lush pair of lips curling into a smile. Tell me all the ways that I have sinned.

I shivered, forcing my eyes back open. I recognized those moments from my dreams—moments of the Turning that I couldn’t remember. Fitting, I supposed, that I’d relive fragments from the last time I’d come so close to death.

Beyond the transition, the guardians seemed a little more solid, the dead a little closer. Gods, those beasts were huge. We were so close to them now. I had to crane my neck all the way back to see the underside of the lioness’s golden jawbone. Still, they ignored us, preoccupied with their unruly souls.

“More than halfway,” Asar said quietly.

My eyes fixed on the end of the path—where the stones disappeared into a thick cluster of fog that seemed to suggest the arched shape of what had once, maybe, been a door. But the condition of the road had worsened. There were large gaps between the stones. Chandra, the shortest of us, had to stretch her stride to reach across them. Our pace slowed. But at least the end was in sight.

Then, something struck us.

I couldn’t make out what it was. It was a brief, fluttering impact, as if I’d startled a bird too close to my face. Movement blurred at the corner of my eye, but when I turned my head, nothing was there.

Ahead, Chandra startled. Elias stopped short. Even Luce halted, the hair at the back of her neck rising.

“What in the fucking Mother’s name was that?” Elias said. He drew his weapon—a broadsword that was bigger than I was—and spun around, just looking for the right direction to swing it.

“Move,” Asar commanded. I didn’t like the tiny, tiny note of fear beneath his words. “Don’t fight. Just go . Now.”

Chandra’s heartbeat was fast as a baby rabbit’s. “I can’t,” she whispered. “I can’t move?—”

I clutched her hand hard.

“Tell me the hymn of the second sun,” I told her. “You know that one, right? I am the line upon which dawn is drawn?—”

She took a few tentative steps. “I am the movement of the sun to the horizon,” she finished shakily.

Another step.

“No darkness can unmake me.”

Another.

“No walls can contain?—”

All at once, pitch-black swallowed me.

All senses dulled, like someone had thrown a heavy blanket over my head. For a terrifying moment I was certain I was falling, plunging into the depths of the Descent. There was nothing, no stone under my feet, no sound, no sight, and?—

And then a scream .

A scream like a death cry. A promise of vengeance. A torn-open heart.

I’d barely clung to my balance, awkwardly lurching to right myself. My hand still clutched Chandra’s. Luce’s barks fell beneath the roaring drone of the blood in my ears. My fear was that of a prey animal’s, illogical and uncontrollable.

Something was out there.

Something was hunting us.

Above, the lioness slowly lowered her chin.

I lifted my own just in time to see Elias, eyes wide, raise his weapon.

“Elias, no —” Asar roared.

But instinct had taken over. Elias was the kind of man who saw a threat and swung something sharp at it until it was dead.

The blur—the thing —swept over us again, and he lunged.

This time, that terrible death howl sounded almost like a laugh.

The path quaked beneath me, as if a giant, invisible hand had grabbed it and given it a good shake.

“Oh, gods,” I gasped as my footing slipped beneath me. Someone grabbed my arm—I knew, just by the feel of it, that it was Asar. The darkness lifted just in time for me to see Elias’s hulking form toppling from the stone, hand outstretched. Chandra lunged for it, but she was half his size—of course she couldn’t catch him. The two of them went over together, swallowed by gray mist before I could reach for them.

Luce barked after them, turning back to look for Asar’s command.

Asar muttered a string of curses and pushed me forward. “Go with her. Now.”

Luce nipped at my sleeve, dragging me along.

But I hesitated. Asar’s blade was raised, eyes lifting to the lioness and the viper, who now stared down at us.

But my gaze fixed on a point beyond him.

To the shadows over his shoulder that moved just oddly enough to catch my attention.

Before I could react, they rushed at him, clustering in a way that almost resembled a figure—almost resembled a cruel, smiling mouth and an outstretched arm?—

I didn’t think.

I dove down, down within myself, hauled the flame up to the surface with every shred of strength I had, and I threw myself in front of Asar.

We collided in a tangle of limbs. The searing light of my flames burst through the bodiless figure. An enraged shriek split the air. Somewhere in the distance, Luce barked a frantic warning.

The bottom of my stomach dropped out.

Asar gripped my shoulders. I opened my eyes. The horrible beauty of the veil framed his face. Time seemed to slow. We both understood that we were about to fall, and there was nothing we could do about it.

He looked so, so pissed.

“I told you all,” he growled, “to stay on the damned path .”

And then we plunged into oblivion.