Page 182 of Winds of Ruin
Darkness loomed, the blackening moon casting sickening shadows through the windows.
Amara stilled for a moment before understanding settled over her features. We didn’t discuss what happened if we failed—the dreary weight of the possibility already hung in the air.
Instead, she beamed at me and whispered, “I wish I could have shown you my love every day. But if I did it all again, I would change nothing. I am so proud of the man you’ve become. Corric would have been too.”
“We’ll have more time.”
A foolish promise.
I forced myself to focus on the Origins’ instructions as Amara commanded the Egress, “To Kruthin.” She would travel to tell the others our intended plan.
The Sources had us lay face up on the tile beside the table. Hating this bargain, I took Lark’s trembling hand. I wouldn’t let her fail—I’d given El my word to see her out of this.
“The relics and the stone will travel with you; do not lose them in Death’s domain,” Lira instructed. “Your bodies will reject the in-between if there for too long, so make haste. Princess, put on your carcanet. It allows you to keep your Reverist abilities beyond consciousness.”
With the sword sheathed at Lark’s side and the carcanet fastened around her neck, Astros looked down at us and asked, “You are certain you know the way to Caym?”
“Yes,” I gritted out. I’d been in that void with him often.
Swallowing hard, I awaited the Sethe curse. This time, as the Origins recited the verses in a language I did not recognize, I thought of all the torment Caym had caused us.
The dark vines from my fingers killing courtesans in a pleasure hall. King Sheffield’s horrified expression when I knocked him from his horse. Blood on my sword—life snuffed from lungs at his whims.
I held onto Lark and let that anger drag me to the depths of Death’s treachery.
I’d expected to see the gray void that Caym entrapped me in for decades.
Instead, my eyes adjusted to the darkness of an amber-veined cave. Molten viscous rock leaked from the cracks in the black walls encasing us. It looked as though we werewithinthe volcanic shores versus atop them.
I’d been here before.
Caym, eager to break me, had dragged me to this depthless cave devoid of hope or joy. Judging by the weight of my limbs and the way the cavern seemed bereft of air, I knew we were not in any physical location in the realms. It felt different—not quite like being asleep.
Death seeped from the pores of the rock. Our bodies in suspension between life and whatever lay beyond it. I’d led us into Caym's domain.
My throat constricted, and my mind warred to focus on the tasks at hand:
Ensure Lark could wield the sword against Caym.
Get Lark and Dritan out of this place.
Hope that I made it out, too.
There was a redheaded spitfire out there that I still owed dinners to for eternity. Those future moments of peace fueled my determination, but I kept the rage at the tip of my tongue, ready to strike with venom.
Lira had made good on her promise; she’d allowed us into the Sethe curse with the relics.
The rest was up to us.
“I hear something,”Lark whispered into my mind. Her Reverist abilities, preserved by the carcanet, would benefit us.
Humming a response, I began to hear it, too.
Thud, thud. Thud, thud.
A heartbeat.
It beckoned us forward. Lark kept the Sword of Isolde at the ready as we slunk deeper into the tunnel ahead. Without weaponry of my own, I stalked beside her, ready to jump at any foe we faced.
