“You’ll both stay,” says Ronan, surprising even me. “That’s the last room up ahead. Whatever answers it holds, they’re for Sylvie and me alone.”
The torch flares its agreement.
“And I won’t risk you any further. You’ve gotten us this far, and I’m grateful. But we’ll go the rest of the way alone.”
“Like hell you will—” Quinn starts, but Ronan holds his hand up to stop her.
“That’s an order.”
Quinn is furious, but despite Ronan’s current lack of title, we all know she’ll defer to him in the end. He’s her king, crown or no crown.
“Come on, Sylvie,” Ronan says. I pick up the sickle, and he carries the torch as we walk over the inactivated traps.
“Our destiny awaits.”
Chapter Thirty-Eight
The final chamber is the largest of all.
We’re standing at the top of it on a ramp that winds around the room, leading down to a landing in the center.
This is the tomb. The landing surrounds a raised platform with a pair of large stone burial vaults encircled by braziers lit with the same bluish flame of the torch. There are no obvious traps between there and here, so we guess that the braziers themselves must relate to the light magic challenge.
Our footsteps echo as we walk down the ramp hand in hand, the torch in Ronan’s left hand and the sickle in my right, trying not to look at the sheer fall to the cavern floor that lurks off to either side of the ramp. I’ve never been afraid of heights, but this is a lot even for me.
“Extraordinary power,” I whisper to Ronan. I don’t know why I whisper when we’re the only ones here, but I have the strange sensation of being watched.
He nods. “We’re going to need it.”
He’s right. If Adria has truly found a way to suppress multiple types of magic, then we’re doomed without it.
We approach the dais slowly, walking around it to check for hidden obstacles. The braziers and pillars that surround the tombs are unmarked, their stone smoothly polished. The craftsmanship far exceeds the rest of the cavern.
The sickle stirs in my wrist, the point at the end of the curve indicating a set of steps on the right side.
The torch flares in the same direction, its flame flashing red.
“At least they agree with each other,” says Ronan, leading the way.
We climb the carved stairs, and the sound of our footsteps dampens. Though the steps are stone, the echoes fade, the sound muffled as though we were walking on a rug rather than a hard surface.
“Do you hear that?” I ask Ronan, but my voice doesn’t come out.
He turns to me, his mouth moving silently, his eyes panicked.
I try to take a step back, but the sickle pulls forward, nearly slipping from my grasp. I stumble up the final step, and the braziers and torch extinguish all at once, plunging the cave into darkness.
It’s the impenetrable darkness again, the magical kind that renders me as blind as anyone else. I stumble forward, my hands finding the stone surface of one of the tombs. There’s an inscription carved into it, and I’m sure we’ll need to read it at some point, but my first priority is finding Ronan again.
My magic is too weak for me to feel him. At least that’s what I tell myself, alarmed at the sudden loss of my awareness of him. “Ronan?” I call out, but there’s no sound at all. I strike the stone with my open palm, but though I feel the impact, there’s only silence.
I reach my hands out, slipping the sickle into my belt so I don’t accidentally run into him. I find the stone bowl of a brazier,still warm to the touch, then a column, and then the other coffin before finally touching something soft.
Hair.
I grasp at the figure with my hands, reaching for his, but something is wrong.
The hair is too long. The skin is too smooth.
