Page 316 of Blade of the Nightking

The Dead Shed stood a few feet away, its doors hanging open. The bound bodies that once filled it were gone, leaving only burlap clawed to shreds and several coils of rope abandoned inside.

I wandered back across the eight-pointed star, turning slowly in a circle, searching every corner of the little square.

No well.

Of course there wasn't. There had never been one in this part of town.

I swallowed against the papery dryness in my mouth, fear closing around my chest. We were running out of time. If we didn't leave soon, we'd die here.

Warmth trailed down my palm. The cut across my hand was still bleeding, my magic stubbornly dormant, refusing even this small kindness. As though it knew what we intended to do and was fighting me in the only way it could.

A drop gathered at the tip of my middle finger and fell.

Tssss.

I froze mid-step, my gaze dropping to the center stone beneath my feet.

A thin wisp of smoke curled from where my blood had landed. It hissed against the worn paving, eating into the stone like acid. The surface blackened, then began to crumble around the single crimson drop.

"Rìan..." I breathed.

He was beside me in an instant, dropping into a crouch. He stared at the spot where my blood had eaten through the paving. His gaze snapped to mine.

"It's beneath the star."

He caught my wrist and yanked me down beside him. He flattened my bleeding palm against the ground and swept it back and forth across the stone, spreading my blood wherever he could. Grit scraped through the open cut, but I barely noticed the sting.

The moment my blood smeared across the center, smoke poured from the paving. A hard crack rang out beneath us, followed by another and another as fractures tore across the stone in every direction. Wherever my blood had touched, the surface darkened, crumbled, and fell away.

Rìan released my hand and immediately jammed his fingers into one of the widening breaks. He tore a slab free and hurled it aside. I joined him, grabbing the broken pieces and clearing them away as fast as I could while my blood continued eating through those that remained.

With my heart lodged somewhere in my throat and sweat dripping down our faces, we finally drew back to stare at what we’d uncovered. Beneath the paving stones was a smooth circular slab no wider than a barrel lid.

“Help me.” Rìan dug his fingers beneath one edge. I wedged mine beside his, and together we heaved. With a grinding groan, the cap broke free. We shoved it aside.

A breath of stale air belched from the darkness below, carrying the scent of damp earth and stagnant water. The terrible sense of wrongness intensified, pouring from the opening in waves. I gripped the edge of the well, fighting the instinct to turn and flee.

It was little more than a narrow shaft descending into absolute blackness.

“Why would they bury it?”

Rìan leaned over the opening. “It was capped. Paved over at some point as the town grew.”

“It’s... small.”

“It wasn’t always.” He pointed to the masonry lining the shaft. “Humans narrowed it. Probably thought they were making it easier to use, never realizing this well wasn’t meant for drinking.”

Another shriek cut through the air

“We need to hurry.”

I tore my eyes from the opening and glanced around. "There's no bucket."

Rìan’s gaze snagged on the Dead Shed. His eyes lit with sudden purpose.

"What?" I asked.

He was already moving. He sprinted to the open shelter and emerged moments later carrying a length of old rope and a strip of shredded burlap. Dropping to one knee beside the well, he knotted the frayed ends together, then tied the cloth to one end.