Page 111 of The City Of Fractured Memory

“Riven,” I hiss. “Don’t make me drag it out of you.”

Finally, he crumbles. His shoulders sag, his breath stuttering as he presses a shaking hand to the wall to steady himself. “They haven’t stopped,” he admits, voice breaking. “The visions, they keep coming. Flashes, pieces…every time I see her, the future is worse. Fading.” He swallows hard, looking at me with haunted eyes. “The longer we stay down here, the more certain her fate becomes.”

I stumble back, my throat tightens. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

He looks up at me imploringly. “I didn’t want you to panic. You’re struggling to keep it together as it is.”

His words fade as every one of my breaths start to come fast and thin, the walls seeming to close in with every rapid heartbeat. “We’re not going to make it,” I whisper, the edges of my vision blurring. I double over, hands braced on my knees as I fight to breathe, to think, to keep the terror from crushing me.

The floor swims, then steadies, and that’s when I see it.

A faint indentation carved into the stone at the junction. Almost invisible…unless you were staring at the ground in despair. It’s an engraving.

A magpie.

Forty-Five

My pulse stutters. “Riven,” I croak, reaching out with a shaking hand. “Look.”

He’s beside me in an instant, concern sharpening his features, until he sees what I’m pointing at. He kneels, running a tentative finger along the small mark.

The stone hums.

A soft, shimmering glow unfurls beneath his touch. It seems like old magic waking from a long sleep.

Riven’s eyes widen. “This isn’t random.” He glances up at the branching tunnels, suddenly alert, suddenly hopeful. “These are markers. They must be all throughout the catacombs, guiding paths, routes, something.”

I straighten slowly, my heart pounding for an entirely new reason. “We’re not lost?” I breathe, terrified of letting hope settle in my chest.

Riven meets my gaze, the glow still flickering between us. He goes still. Then, slowly, he raises his hand.

A faint shimmer pulses from his fingertips, a soft ripple, like water disturbed. My breath catches.

“What are you doing?” I whisper.

“Signature sensing, a crude version,” he mutters. “The symbols will have energy currents, like veins, running all the way through. If we follow them, they should hopefully lead us to the catacombs.”

I watch the ripple drift down the corridor ahead of us, then veer sharply right.

We both straighten immediately. “There. That’s a natural channel. Old magic always runs toward the heart of a place. These markers are the key.”

We move quickly now, Riven casting soft pulses of magic that rebound off the walls and guide us deeper, deeper, until the air changes, colder, but steadier. The ripple finally dissolves at the mouth of a massive arched opening, the stone carved with various symbols—including magpies.

Riven lowers his hand. “We’re here,” he says quietly. “This must be the catacombs’ original entrance.”

I exhale shakily, realising only now how tight my chest is.

“So,” I murmur, trying to lighten the mood. “Does this count as me choosing a good route or–”

“Don’t push your luck,” Riven says, though the faintest smirk tugs at his mouth. He takes my hand and we step through the archway. The tunnel narrows on the other side, the faint rushing of running water echoing through the chamber from somewhere above.

The ceiling curves inward, repeating arches carved into the stone overhead, covered in so many cobwebs it’s a wonder I can see the ceiling at all. Debris crunches loudly under our feet as we walk through the gloom, until a faint light appears round a corner, and we stop next to a gently flickering lantern. I look down at my feet and instantly regret it.

The debris I thought we were walking on is bones. Hundreds of them.

Bile rises in my throat, and I slap a hand over my mouth, trying not to heave. Death is no stranger to me thanks to my job, but it turns out this is where my stomach draws the line. Riven lifts my chin up with a finger, his breath ragged.

“We need to keep moving. Don’t look down.”