Tell nobody.
I pull a long, slow breath to tame my rampant heartbeat, stuffing all concerns of the message away until they’re merely a wisp of fog floating atop my icy lake.
I lift my chin. Straighten my shoulders.
“Perfectly fine,” I lie, refolding the bloodstained parchment lark bar the final fold that gives it flight, not wanting it to flutter free of my pocket again. “It’s just my reckoning for renting every room in the Snog. More than I thought.” I flick up my hood and make for the door, jerking it wide. “Shall we?”
Utris grunts with the heft of Rekk’s weight, shifting him into position on his shoulders until I can hardly tell he’s carrying an invisible corpse. “After you.”
I swipe the heels of my boots on the doormat partway down the empty stone hall when I hear theclickof a weald opening.
My steps speed to match the rhythm of my now-thrashing heart.
Utris speaks a series of too-familiar words that sizzle my soul and make me want to vomit, turning his small flame into a raging inferno intended to gobble every drop of evidence within the suite. Just as we’d discussed prior to the messy slaughtering I wish I could take credit for.
Despite the warmth that radiates down the hall, a shiver crawls up my spine.
I hasten my steps, moving around the corner.
Away.
Though it’s tempting to let Ignos feast on Rekk so we can finish this in a quick and timely manner, a regular fire doesn’t consume …everything. It gorges on flesh, then spits out the bones and a screaming, thrashingsoul, leaving the remains unpalatable to pretty much anything other than a desperate velvet trogg.
What I love about Bothaim is that it sits atopmanysecrets, including a series of underground tunnels munched into existence by something long ago, now home to a fully grown anthe. A creature that gorges on flesh, yes, but also swallows souls, nulling them into oblivion.
Rekk Zharos deserves nothing more.
Once he’s suitably swallowed … well, then I’ll turn my concerns to the bloody lark in my pocket.
Ithink I might’ve fucked up.
Battling for breath, I look over my shoulder, down the jagged cleft I squeezed through to get …here, wondering—
The distant sound of boots pounding stone confirms going back isnotan option.
I should’ve peeled off earlier, down one of the other cracks in the wall.
Swiping the sweat and tendrils of hair clinging to my brow, I take in the cavern stretched before me, scanning angry pools of magma that burp billows of smog. My gaze climbs the massive stone columns that support the broad ceiling—like Bulder himself is using his arms as pillars.
It’s a death trap. My gear isn’t equipped to withstand such heat. And what if I get down there and the only way out is death by lava pool?
A blow of air whips the powdery, sulfuric fumes into a violent dance. Like Clode just gusted into the cavern, parting them like gauzy curtains.
My gaze narrows on a slice of aurora light shafting through mottled clouds beyond. Anexit.
I deflate, muscles easing.
Thank the Creators …
I study the labyrinth of frail paths that weave through the caustic carnage. Unfortunately, they appear as sturdy as my withering balance.
Guess it’s time to remove this iron bolt.
Looking down at the poke of metal protruding from my foot, I wince, look back up again. “Dammit,” I mutter, sinking onto my ass with one leg dangling over the steep ridge.
Dammit.
Dammit.
