I stumble through the opening.
The stone claps back into place so fast I’m shoved forward, like it tried to push me down the sheer, rocky ridge Arithia spawned from.
“Hugth aht, Bulder!”
I toss my arm back. Clasp the rigid hand of stone that punches from the wall and jerks me to a halt—though my heart feels like it busts throughmy ribs, plummets through the blinding vortex of wind and snow, and impales on a rock somewhere far below.
The smooth hand calcifies around my clenched fingers while I heave breath, trying to reel my heart back into my fucking chest.
That was close.
Still half hanging over the edge, I look up at the Moltenmaw, unsurprised to see it studying me over its snow-dusted wing. Still rumbling. Probably hoping Bulder will drop me into the chasm to be snatched like falling prey.
I may not be his most devout apostle, but the God of Ground likes me enough not to purposely turn me into a dragon snack.
“Gurn huk atúin, Bulder …”
Slowly, he pulls me back until I’m flopped against the wall, still feeling like the world is rocking beneath my feet.
Pesky, parasitical runes.
I hack a strip of material from my cloak and use it to bind my hand, difficult with double vision and no feeling left in the frozen tips of my fingers. “T-take me back t-to the scorching plains of home,” I bite out, then stash my blade and turn toward the obscure stairway that zigzags up the ridge, cuts left across the mountain’s sheer face, then fringes the forest. The path a relic of times past, further smudged behind a battle of snow and wind.
The world splits, converges, splits …
I sigh.
If I don’t fall and break my neck, it’ll be a miracle.
With careful steps, I begin the treacherous traverse, moving across the cliff’s face when the Moltenmaw screeches so loud it rivals the howling wind.
I spin, squinting.
Through the eddy of snow, I see the beast stretching its massive feathered wings. With a few violent heaves, it lifts off the wall and propels toward the huge, spiky silhouette that crowns the mountain city, windows a glittering contrast to the murky dim.
Thepalace.
My heart skips a beat.
I wobble as the ground jolts, like something flicked at me from beneath. Quick. Isolated. The sort of jolt I only get when Bulder’s trying to tell me something.
Frowning, I open myself—
His song busts into my eardrums. A baritone lullaby, the melancholy tune almost reminding me of—
The tune he sang to Slátra when she was in the burrow at Dhomm.
Burnt.
Broken.
I spin, looking through the churning storm to where a cluster of ancient, abandoned burrows are tucked amongst the mountain’s ridges. One of which my lovely carter is hidden within, waiting with her Moltenmaw.
Waiting to carry me back to The Fade.
An uncomfortable feeling lodges in my chest, like I just got struck with an arrow.
Cold, hungry dread.
