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Dim light bounced off the domed, metal-plated ceiling of the entryway, diffusing the circular hall in an eerie, green ethereal glow. Each mancer symbol glimmered at his feet from silver tiles set into a large hexagon—a mimicry of the obelisk they’d stood face-to-face with so many nights ago. Heavy curtains framed the door up ahead, its darkened room beyond making Grey clutch his and Noel’s sacrifices a little tighter. Noel led the way, iron dagger kept at his hip. Grey fell in step behind.
The inner sanctum stopped him dead in his tracks once his eye adjusted to the dim lighting. Rows upon rows of benches spread out like waves from the dais at the far side, their cushions upholstered with crushed velvet and armrests carved with woodland creatures. Everything had a freshly polished or cleaned sheen to it, not a single speck of dust in sight. How could he walk out of here and live his life again after knowing that so much time was poured into this? An overembellished, empty monument while people like Cy scavenged for scraps.
“Grey?”
The echoing whisper of his name made every muscle grow taut. He fixed his gaze on Noel’s eyes and hurried forward. “Sorry,” he mumbled. “I just got… a little distracted by?—”
“All this?” Noel asked, half motioning to the tapestries hanging from the dark wooden ceiling beams. “It’s a little fucking over the top. We just need to hurry it up and get the hell out of here.”
Grey forced himself to nod and kept up the pace on Noel’s way to the dais, hesitantly climbing up the steps after him. No altar. Just a raised platform with heavy curtains around the half-circular recess it notched into the wall. Noel frowned and slowly spun around, taking it all in, but Grey’s sights narrowed on a slight part in the two curtains in the dead center. He crept forward and pulled one of the curtain panels back.
Two round door pulls. A curved door, split in two. Noel was already at his side, peeling back the other panel and taking the wooden box from under Grey’s arm. “Ready?”
The urge to say no and bolt out the doors slammed into Grey like a wall. There was a possibility that Reign was lounging on the other side, reclining in a chair with a pleased smile that Grey had walked straight into their domain. So he pushed down his instinctive answer and shoved his side open, Noel quickly mirroring the action.
A flat, wooden slab, looking stripped straight from the largest trees he’d ever seen, sat cradled by chiseled stone. Behind it, a pitch-black form sat in a chair with its back reaching out on either side like a pair of antlers. Glowing gold eyes fixed on them as the shadow settled in the seat and leaned forward with seemingly corporeal elbows against the wooden altar—almost like an office desk.
The rumbling purr thrummed through Grey with a deeper cadence than Reign, sending an uneasy shiver through him. “Step inside. We have sacrifices to discuss, do we not?”
Noel exchanged a short glance with Grey before they walked in. Cy’s reminders thundered in his thoughts until the doors slammed shut. He yelped and spun around, panic seizing him in a split second with every alarm bell ringing uncontrollably in his head.
“Quiet.” The command echoed off the walls, clamping Grey’s mouth shut. “Face me, hemomancer.”
Grey trembled as he turned around, watching the shadow’s fingers drum against the altar before their gold irises slid over to Noel.
“You there—macharomancer, have you come to make me a deal?”
Noel started forward, the box in his hands scraping against the stand as he set it down and lifted the lid for the creature to peer inside. “I’m offering this in exchange for my exclusion from the Wild Hunt.”
A velvety, bemused chuckle filled the chamber, making Grey’s hair stand on end. “A clever little iron-wielder, aren’t you?” The box snapped shut on its own and darkness consumed it in a heartbeat. “You are hereby released from the Wild Hunt, little one.”
Grey’s head spun as Noel looked back at him with wide eyes and a growing smile on his face. They’d done it. They were going to walk away from this. He quickly stepped back as Grey rushed forward to unroll his canvas on the altar, his heart racing as the shadow hummed.
“I’m also offering in exchange to be released from the Wild Hunt,” Grey said as evenly as he could, trying to tamp down his growing nerves with each passing second.
“I see…” The creature’s hand traced the tree line, the mirror-like pond, and then it stopped on the woman peering into it. “A shame, really.”
Grey swallowed, fighting back the urge to ask what was a shame while he fidgeted with his gloved fingers.
“Such talent for a human. Truly a waste.” The creature snapped its fingers, and the canvas erupted into a flurry of blooming flowers and grass eating up every inch of it, spilling out onto the floor.
Grey and Noel danced back as the shadow stood from the chair. “Anything created from human hands isn’t worthy of trade, dear boy.”
His stomach dropped, and the room began to stretch in his vision. “What?” he breathed, unable to comprehend what this fae creature had just said.
A cruel laugh bubbled up from the shadow’s form. “Foolish thing, you offered a scrap of yourself. Do you truly think that’s something worthy?”
Noel stepped forward. “Then free him from the Hunt and take me instead.”
Grey’s heart caught in his throat. “No!” He grabbed Noel’s arm, his entire body shaking. “Please don’t?—”
The shadow sneered. “Didn’t I just say nothing human was worthy? You can either take the offer, or you can face the hunting grounds, macharomancer.”
Grey let go, stumbling back as tears filled his eyes. How foolish to think anything he could create would be taken as an offering. Reign had planted that false hope and idea in his mind to trap him.
“There’s still time,” Noel said. “We can go back to?—”
Shouts rang out in the inner sanctum, and the shadow cackled. “I’m afraid your time is up, so what will you choose? I can pardon you when I open those doors, or…”
