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There were more nooks and crannies in this cavern, the bulk of the passages hidden from plain sight. Fern chose a hole in the wall behind a boulder, barely taller than Brand and Magnus, and just narrow enough to have a cold sweat breaking across Lunara’s brow.
“Are you…sure?” Her question mirrored Brand’s from hours ago, but wasn’t doubt in Fern’s abilities.
More a desperate plea.
Fern’s look was soft when she tucked away a lock of Lunara’s hair. “Sorry. This is the one that feels right.”
“That’s, um…” Her small laugh was not in the least amused. “Yes. Fine. Good.”
It’s fine. You’re fine. Just…fine.
They wound and wove and sank for hours.
Brand clenched his teeth and darted a look to the ceiling, to the dripping rock formations clinging there. They reached down to the ones rising up from the floor, the earthen jaw doing its best to make Brand feel like he was offering himself up as some ancient beast’s supper.
For all he knew, that’s exactly what they were doing.
The latest tunnel was deceptive. The entrance was tiny, barely large enough for him and Magnus to squeeze through, yet the rest more its own version of an endless, oblong cave. Two dozen Demons in their rage could’ve walked side-by side down its length, with plenty of clearance for their heads and horns.
After Magnus spotted what looked like a footprint, their group spread out, checking every shadowed corner and hollow. Lunara darted in and out of sight between boulders. Fern flitted from perch to perch. Mag sniffed at bloody everything.
Brand kept his eyes and ears open, sweeping and listening. The air around him was a held breath. Damp and waiting. Heavy. His heart pounded in anticipation, as if it knew the exhale would be explosive when it finally came.
He rounded an outcropping and found Lunara bent over beside a flat, smooth stone, a dark patch on the ground in front of it. “Is that—”
“There’s a pile of old tools over here!” Fern’s faint voice stopped him in his tracks, farther away than it should’ve been. “Shit. Is that blood?”
The Fae took the words right out of his mouth. He tried to say as much, but there was a strange pressure in his skull. Not the threat of an episode, but something off. Something in the cave.
Brand stumbled a step and—
He didn’t know where he was. The slab was gone, no stain in the dust and grit. And when had Lunara gotten so far away? He swore she was within touching distance just a moment ago.
“Oh, you rutting lot of tosspots better not have left me here as some kind of sick joke. It isn’t fucking funny! Lunara!”
“What the fuck? Fern?” Mag, from somewhere else. “Speak again, lass, so I can find you.”
“Bum-blossom. Cock wart. Cunting bag of pixie shit.” The Fae’s rasping voice continued calling out profanities in answer, almost sing-songy in their quality.
Brand spun, looking for their shapes, but Lunara’s lights seemed lazier than before. More subdued. “Magnus?”
“Aye, I’m here…Fern. Don’t…until…get…”
What in the—
“We need to keep walking.”
Brand practically leapt out of his skin at discovering Lunara right beside him. “I— You were—” He shook his head, trying to clear it. “What’s happening? Something is…”
“Wrong. Yes.” She twisted a single curl between her fingers. “I think we’ve accidentally run into a defensive spell of some kind. Or, at least what’s left of one.”
“And you didn’t sense it beforehand?” Even he heard the mistrust in his voice.
Her lips thinned. “I did not. It’s weak, and even knowing it’s there now, I don’t feel anything truly sinister. It’s a moot point anyway. The exit is up ahead.” She turned, a slight limp in her step as she walked away. “Are you coming?”
Brand had the strongest desire to yank her back, but he buried it. Besides, he didn’t know whether he wanted to shout at her or apologize, and both were a waste of time. Instead, he followed her.
Some of the stress melted from his shoulders when the tunnel narrowed, funneling them towards a craggy break in the cave wall.
