Page 160 of Fallacies

“Wait.” I barely avoid choking. “Did you find a way into the dungeons?”

Salem sighs, long and drawn out. “Lucina, there is only one way to get into the dungeons.”

“No.” I set my fork down. “Are you fucking serious?”

“Snaring gets easier the more you do it.”

“That’s what you said last time.”

“But I have something that might help.”

“That’s also what you said last time.” I get to my feet, reaching for my discarded vest. “The wrist thing helped with nausea, but it did nothing for the rest of it.”

“Just let me explain⁠—”

“No,” I fire back. “What you’re asking me to do, my body does not respond well to. I need to get into the dungeons, but being unconscious would defeat the whole fucking purpose.”

Salem regards me as if everything I’ve just said he’s already considered. “You’ll stay conscious,” he explains, “if you don’t breathe.”

I blink back at him, waiting for him to tell me he’s kidding. He doesn’t. “Um, not breathing is like the number one reason people lose consciousness.”

The sarcasm sharpens his stare. “The mist is why you lose consciousness,” he grits out. “I was given the ability to Snare for transporting fugitives back to Pyra. It’s like a…sedative.”

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

“If you don’t breathe it in, you’ll stay conscious. Theoretically,” he adds, with a slight bob of his head.

I know if I open my mouth, I’d have nothing but more obscenities—that would fall on deaf ears—so I keep it closed.

I don’t believe he’d even offer Snaring if there was any other option, and I have to get into the dungeons. On a scale of one to I fully trust the Hound, I’m sitting at a confident seven, and that’s only because of the bargain we’re both sworn to.

Unfortunately, I can’t in good conscience let the percentage of trust he and I are lacking get in the way of the reason I came here. The people below us who need me—need both of us.

I clip my vest into place and exhale a defeated breath. “Don’t breathe?” I clarify.

He nods, rising from his seat. “It will only take a few seconds.”

It takes me a minute to gather the courage to move, but I force my feet to shift, crossing the room and planting myself in front of him. “Fine. But if this doesn’t work⁠—”

“Can you hold your breath?” There’s a taunt in his tone, and I don’t very much appreciate it.

I glare up at him. “Yes?”

“Then it will work.”

Salem moves to take my wrist, pushing his finger into the pressure point that I’m fairly certain is a mind trick that doesn’t actually work. I don’t flinch at the touch, at the odd chill of his skin, but when his other hand comes up to cover my mouth, I swat it away.

“I’ve got it,” I assure him, appalled that he’d even try such a thing. “Gods.”

Salem smirks.

I ignore him, taking a deep breath before covering my mouth and nose with my palm. I can’t risk any of it slipping through.

He waits until I’m situated before asking, “Ready?”

I nod.

This time when the mist comes, I’m conscious enough to watch it rise, stunned at the way it blots out the floor, the walls, the ceiling…Everything becomes it. Everything becomes…him. Vibrant blue, all-consuming, a threat of something massive. A higher power, and it’s absolutely everywhere.