The Cardinal did not speak again, her breathing falling back into a labored rhythm. Cirian lingered there for a moment before kneeling, planting a gentle kiss atop her head.
It was a rare moment of sincerity from the Acolyte. A peek into the heart of the man beneath the bravado. Was this the man that Tobias saw him as? If so, I understood even more why he would want someone like Cirian by his side.
He joined me once more, a mask of determination poorly concealing the sorrow in his eyes. He knew that Sancha was running on borrowed time.
“Are you ready?” I asked.
“Mentally? Yes. Physically? I’ll need another moment.”
We stood near the spot on the shadow-covered wall where the tether had narrowed in earlier. Cirian stared intently into the teeming darkness, his mind lost in the thoughts of his time with Bastien.
Heat pooled at the nape of my neck, reminding me of my own ignored physicality. I closed my eyes, suppressing the sensation, and willing the bothersome warmth to spread through my body. Three long months it had been since I’d relieved the heat that burned through my veins, and with each cycle, the yearnings grew more intense. It would not be long before I would have to take action or risk my body going into a rut.
When finally I opened my eyes, the thread emerged from Cirian once more, swirling in the space ahead of us before colliding with the wall of shadow. Peeling away like strips of paper meeting flame, the darkness revealed a plan wooden door with a golden knob in the center.
“Does that happen when you venture out into the dark?” I asked.
Cirian shook his head. “This is a first. Normally, I have to tear an opening for myself. This feels very different. Almost like it’s inviting us in.”
With a twist of the golden handle, the door swung open, the interior a swirling portal of shadow. Cirian’s tether vanished into the dark, still shining brightly.
“Shall we?”
Cirian reached down and wrapped his hand around mine.
“We can’t get separated out there. We stick together, yes?”
I stared back into the warmth of his eyes. In contrast with the swirling dark before us, they were pools of summer night sky.
“Together,” I agreed, tightening my hold on his hand.
With one last glance over his shoulder at the altar across the sanctuary, Cirian stepped forward into the darkness, and I followed quickly after.
A serpentine hallway made of smooth stone stretched ahead, the glimmering tether attached to Cirian’s chest weaving its way forward and vanishing around a curve.
“This can’t be,” Cirian breathed beside me, bracing a hand against the wall of similar grey stone.
“Is something wrong?” I asked, scanning the hall for signs of danger.
“It’s the Cradle,” he replied, moving forward, his fingers tracing the smooth surface. “This is the hallway just outside of the Cardinal’s office.”
“Have we returned?”
Cirian shook his head, slowing his pace. “The Cradle hums with the presence of the Source. This place is deathly quiet. It must be another illusion.”
The light from his tether dimmed, the hallways suddenly growing hazy as shadows emerged from the edges of the space.
“This darkness moves as a predator,” I said, closing the distance between Cirian and me. “It waits to pounce when we are at our most vulnerable.”
“The Umbral,” Cirian corrected me, closing his eyes and letting out a deep breath. “That’s what Bast said it was called. And you’re not wrong. I need a second to concentrate. Can you make sure nothing horrible slaughters me while I negotiate with my softening cock?”
I snorted a laugh that echoed down the empty hall.
“It would be my honor.”
I took the opportunity to move ahead a few paces, scouting the next bend of the hallway. More shadows waited, cowering away from the cerulean light shed from the tether. But other than the rhythmic undulation of the shades, no other movement caught my eye. Returning to Cirian’s side, it was difficult not to notice the change in his demeanor. The longer he manifested this tether, the thicker the air around him became with the scent of his lust. The flesh across his cheekbones was flushed with heat, and the lightest sheen of sweat graced his brow as it furrowed in concentration.
I only hoped he’d be able to tolerate the discomfort long enough for us to find Bastien.
