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The snake that was wrapped around the room began to shift faster.
Look through me, Bandit said. My eyes. I am not affected by the mist.
Gods, he didn’t know if he could. But he tried, shifting the lens in his mind from his own eyes to Bandit’s—
And saw clearly.
If this works, Bandit said, licking his chops, you owe me a new chicken.
Deal. Just let me kill this thing first.
Waiting.
Darien shoved off the wall and ran again, leaping onto the next piece of staircase.
And the next.
The next, all the while looking through Bandit’s mind instead of his own, having no clue how this was working but glad that it was.
The darkness—the poisonous black mist—way up top was getting closer.
Darien raised the blade again, forcing his eyes to focus on the reflection.
The serpent came down from its habitat above, preparing for another strike—unaware that Darien was no longer affected by the mist.
Darien pushed himself faster, hurtling along the ledge, toward the next jump that was farther than any he’d already conquered.
It just camouflaged, Bandit warned. Jump left!
Darien reached the edge and leapt left instead of straight, landing instead on another obelisk. Sure enough, a camouflaged portion of the snake’s body reappeared.
It struck, and Darien jumped, off the obelisk and onto another platform, boots skidding. He caught himself with a hand against the wall. Crossed the length of the platform in three powerful strides, heart pounding as the Basilisk prepared to bite. To devour.
This was it.
Make it count, Bandit said.
For the chicken? Darien joked, despite his pounding heart, the sweat trickling down his back.
For our girl, Bandit said.
Darien would.
He reached the edge—the second-last one—and launched himself forward with all his might, straight into open air.
Time seemed to slow.
In the reflection of the blade he held aloft, the serpent came in for the kill, eyes flaring silver. Preparing to turn him to stone, into a prize trapped here forever. “You’ve put up a good fight, Darien Slade,” it hissed, that voice so near, Darien could feel it on the back of his neck. “But you are mine now.”
Like hell.
The final ledge from the top—his only opportunity—neared…
And neared…
Instead of landing on it, he tipped back in midair and flattened his boots against the edge—just like he’d planned.
With a mighty roar, he bent his knees and pushed back off the stone, launching himself into a backflip that propelled his body over the serpent’s spiked head.
