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When the swirling shadows of the hellhound loped towards her, Peri asked her if she knew of another hellhound who’d be willing to help their cause. Shadowfall had licked her face with her surprisingly wet tongue and within minutes she had called for another hellhound, Shadowvane, to help them. Brenn slung herself up onto Shadowfall as Hemlock pulled himself onto Shadowvane and then they were riding off in opposite directions.
Neither one looked back.
Oleander and Peri scrambled onto Zila, gripping tight as she lunged off in the opposite direction, as raw tension hardened into forward motion.
Chapter
Forty-Four
OLEANDER BRIGHTMORE
Oleander had learnt that when Zila needed to, she could travel through shadows. It required an immense amount of energy and could only be done at night, but the speed it provided made the skill invaluable. However, there was a cost. The path was traceable by other hellcats, though that wasn’t enough to deter them when time was so scarce.
And so, Zila leapt through the deepest shadow she could find and carried them to the edge of the Floralia Circle. Ahead of them one last lantern shone bright amidst the darkly ominous Lake of Fire sprawling before them.
In the distance, an explosion echoed, its force shaking the air and reverberating across the land. It was a stark reminder of their dwindling time.
The behemoth stood, buttery light shining upon her, waiting patiently for them. As they drew nearer, it turned and sprinted towards the shadows—without hesitation Zila followed her.
They sprinted alongside the onyx flames of the Lake of Fire. When it felt as if their journey would never end, the behemoth turned abruptly, leaping boldly into the flames.
They took that as their sign to dismount from Zila and walked hand in hand towards the Lake of Fire. With each step, the weight of wrongness pressed harder on his chest. The closer they got, the more the unease clawed at him. His skin prickled in warning. By the time they neared the flames of the Lake of Fire, a cold sweat had broken out across his skin.
His eyes darted to Perine. She appeared almost untouched by the strange aura surrounding them. Even Zila, usually unflappable, was skittish—yet Perine walked forward, unshaken. Oleander squeezed her hand, and she raised an eyebrow, her expression saying, “This is it.”
They stepped into the shadowy flames of the Lake of Fire, the home of the Lady of the Lake. The flames swirled in a never-ending dance of darkness, licking at the air hungrily. Oleander’s pulse quickened, his breath shallow, as if the fire itself were watching him.
After a few moments, Perine’s hand trembled in his. She wasn’t unaffected, after all. Oleander gave her a quiet squeeze, offering what little comfort he could as they stood before the peculiar fire that encircled all of Hell. Then, the Lake of Fire parted around them. Two massive eyes opened, glimmering from the dark. The spirit slowly rose from the depths before them, her terrifying form unfurling like a nightmare made flesh. Golden scales, as bright as blood, shimmered in the low light. Four long arms stretched out, stiff and poised. Jagged teeth gleamed, threatening to tear through them.
The Lady of the Lake tilted her head, her gaze piercing and full of judgement. “Perine Wilder, have you come to return what was stolen from me?” Her voice thundered over them.
Oleander’s grip on Perine’s hand tightened involuntarily. The Lady’s gaze was suffocating, her presence a weight too heavy to bear. Before he could share his concerns, Perine slipped her hand from his.
Her eyes met the spirit’s. She faced the deity with a resolve that made Oleander’s heart skip a beat.
“I have,” Perine called out.
The air around them thickened, stagnant, archaic. No living thing dared approach the Lake of Fire, or this spirit, yet here Perine was—approaching her without fear. Oleander’s chest tightened. He could barely breathe as he clung to Zila’s fur, anchoring himself in a moment of desperate stillness.
A massive, golden hand rose before Perine, opening like the petals of a cruel flower. Perine stepped onto it, gripping the spirit’s thumb. The hand moved, lifting her high and setting her gently upon the spirit’s shoulder.
A shudder ran through him as he watched her balance atop the spirit’s towering frame. Perine reached into her satchel and produced the earring she’d enchanted to be tiny. The moment it touched the air, it grew, stretching until it was large enough to fit the spirit’s ear. With steady hands, she hooked the earring through the spirit’s golden ear, her grip firm.
Then, the spirit’s hand reached up, lifting Perine back down to the ground beside him. Oleander’s arms instinctively wrapped around her, pulling her close. He tried not to hold her too tightly, but the trembling in her bones made it impossible. He held her as she took deep, steadying breaths.
When he finally looked up, he was stunned. The Lake of Fire had changed. The flames were no longer the cold darkness they had once been. Instead, they burnt crimson and amber, licking the air with vibrant life. The spirit’s body was alive with flame as she strode toward them. Her bare feet landed with heavy thuds, causing the ground beneath them to tremble with every footstep closer.
Wind howled around them. Perine turned, her voice cutting through the storm.
“Who are you, really?”
The spirit knelt, her grin wide and wicked, filled with chaos. “Take a guess.”
Perine’s curls whipped around her face, but she straightened her shoulders, facing the spirit. Oleander could feel the tension in the air, thick and taut, as Perine’s lip curled slightly—was she debating whether to guess? To risk angering this titanic force of nature?
Who was this entity, really, if she wasn’t the Lady of the Lake?
When Perine didn’t answer, the Lady of the Lake chuckled so low that the ground beneath them trembled. “It doesn’t matter who I am. What matters is that you succeeded in freeing me from the Cursed Bargain. For that, I will deign to make a bargain with you, of your own choosing.”
