Page 81 of Demonic Affliction

“Time to go.” Vhalthor’s voice moves through the cavern, but it holds none of the self-assured authority it once did. “Wake your mate, and we will head into the core.”

He turns and leaves, no time for niceties. Once he’s gone, I stroke a hand down Willow's back, gently rousing her. “Angel. It's time.”

She stirs slowly, blinking up at me, and I can see the worry in my own eyes reflected in hers. “Okay…”

Dravik leans over, pressing his mouth to the top of her head without a word, then rises. He gathers her armored suit and helps her into it, and when she's dressed, he slides a fresh dagger into the sheath at her hip.

Rhune shuffles over with what's left of Willow’s food reserves cupped in both hands. "You must eat, pet. Here.”

“I’m not really hungry, Rhune…”

His eyes widen. “Only a few bites. Please, my mate. For my sanity.”

Her mouth curls downward, but she dutifully takes the hoarfrost tuber. She manages three, maybe four nibbles before she hands the rest back. Rhune's lip juts out, and he’s about to protest when Nyx folds an arm around her, pulling her in tight to his side. “It's okay, beautiful. If you’re not hungry, we won’t force you.”

“She needs her strength,” Rhune whimpers.

“You’ll make her sick,” Nyx says. “Look at her.”

“I am looking at her. I am always looking at her.”

“Then you've noticed she's green.”

“She is beautiful, not green!”

“She can be both!”

I sigh, moving away from them to check on Dravik while they bicker. He glances at me from the corner of his eye, but doesn’t say anything as I approach.

“You ready?” I ask.

“No.” He grunts, his mouth curving downward. “I do not like this. My instincts are telling me to flee, to grab Willow and run as far as I can from this wretched place. But…” He looks over at her and our two brothers, his eyes creasing with emotion. “If we run, there is no future for us. No future for anyone.”

I nod, not having any words to say. Instead, I move toward Willow, wanting to be close to her before we face the coming horrors.

Once we are all dressed and ready, we head into the main passage to join the others. The first thing I notice is how wretched everyone looks.

Dagny stands a few feet away, her six mates arranged behind her in a line. Roark and Lir look as if they are trying not to be sick. Cyprien’s normally bright yellow eyes are dull and gloomy. Fenryr has lost the tip of one horn. Kaebl's wing hangs at an odd angle, and Malice has gone unnaturally quiet and still.

Vhalthor's remaining soldiers stand close together, their bodies broken and leaning. Their king stands at the front, his shoulders drawn back and chin raised high—but I notice the slight shudder of his upper lip. Even Vhalthor is scared.

Everyone seems to know what I do—and that the end is close by.

Without a word, our sad little group turns and trudges into the awaiting shadows. The passageway slopes downward, growing steeper with each step until we have to half walk, half fly the rest of the way to the bottom. Finally, we come to a small, rounded cavern. The ceiling is low enough that Vhalthor has to duck his head, and there is just enough room for everyone to fit inside.

At the far end is another pit, this one much smaller than the other two. The roots growing out of this one are thicker than any others I have seen, some as wide around as my torso, and they are all black, hanging limp over the mouth of the pit. Rotted through. Necrotic.

As we step nearer to the pit, I can hear the Welwig in my head whispering, demanding. Hungry. So, so hungry…

I grab my head, pressing my palms hard against my temples, but it does nothing to quiet the voices. With a sympathetic glance, Dravik crosses to Willow and scoops her up without a word, holding her tight to his chest. Instinctively, she wraps her arms around his neck, holding on for dear life.

Together, we move to the edge of the pit.

I look at my brothers. Nyx meets my eyes and gives me a single nod. Rhune's jaw is set. Behind us, the rest of the group shifts closer.

With one last steadying breath, we jump.

The tunnel swallows us whole, and we fall through nothing for an unnaturally long time. The tunnel narrows, and the walls press in, scraping the edges of my already battered wing.