Resolve hardens my features.
I stretch the anxiety from my chest and drop my grip on the handrail, stalking across the bridge to the tune of my dragon’s satiated screech.
I’ve been melted down and reshaped by a Creator before—against my will.
At least this choice is mine.
“You can do this,” I bite out, pacing from wall to wall in the small slumbersuite. I crack my neck, preparing for what I’m about to do.
Brave my Other’s den. Like an idiot.
I rip off my cloak and toss it on the pallet. Fist my hands, loosen them. Suddenly lacking a single drip of the confidence that drove me across the courtyard and in through the front door. That had me kicking off my boots and charging up the stairs, not even blinking in Pyrok’s direction when he woke from his snoring slumber and asked if the world had ended yet.
I’ve only got seven rises to reach Bhoggith, eliminate the hit, then deliver bits of him to the serpent bitch in her purple palace of pain and apparently save The Flourish. And myself, I guess.
Seven.
Rises.
That leaves no time to waste, but I can’t go before speaking to Kaan. Meaning I’ve got until he returns to hunt for Bulder’s language. Except now that I’m behind this locked door, preparing to plunge headfirst into my internal dumping ground, the idea has turned to ash in my mouth.
Going within … I risk coming face-to-face with my Other.
I’m not ready for that. Not sure I ever will be, but I’m certain I don’t have the ability to protect everyone that’s cracked into my heart.
And that outweighs everything.
I blow out a sigh, pause to jiggle the door handle, double-checking I locked it properly—
A slit of pain carves from my elbow all the way to the tips of my fingers, making the tendons tighten so hard my hand bunches into a gnarly knot. I fall to my knees, seething through clenched teeth as I pry my fingers back, hoping to stop my tendons from suffering any damage that might prevent me from doing my fucking job with any amount of ease. No doubt Sereme’s singular aim.
Make this as difficult as possible without incapacitating me entirely. Bring me to heel.
The usual poison.
The pain shifts. Hacks up my arm, across my shoulder blades, and down to my other hand, cramping it into an equally twisted knot while I chew on my wild compulsion to laugh—if I only had the breath.
Darkness has gathered at the corners of my vision by the time the pain eases enough I’m able to fill my lungs.
My body loosens.
I flop against the door, shuddering through gulped breaths. Consider skipping every step bar climbing atop Líri and flying straight to Gore withonegoal in mind: find a way to force Sereme to sever our blood bind, even if that means severing some fingers to get her to yield. Something that’ll wound me as much as it wounds her, but fuck it. What’s a couple of fallen phalanges in exchange for my untethered freedom?
Cold floods my veins—the only warning I get before I’m ripped back and stuffed beneath the shattered surface of my internal lake.
Shards smash me from all angles, like I’m caught in a mug of water being sloshed about by a shaking fist—preventing me from reaching the surface. By the time the water calms, I’m trapped beneath a thick sheet of frosted ice impossible to punch through, even as I put my entire soul into each fisted blow.
I’m down here. With her.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
My knuckles shred as I punch,punch—
A cracking sound echoes through the water.
I pause to examine the dense barrier, but the crack isn’t here.
It’s—
