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“She is almost done,” Nox continued, not releasing their grip. The dragon’s gaze darted from Thraigg’s face to the nocterrian’s indigo hand, then up to their horned head. Several words in an unfamiliar tongue fell from Nox’s mouth. The dragon’s lips peeled back, maw opening, revealing row after row of fearsome teeth lining the inside of its—her?—mouth.

It took an inordinate amount of willpower for Cedric to fight the instinct to run, to resist leaning into the thought that this was it, this was the end. That Nox had led the three of them to their doom and Cedric would never again experience the peace of staring endlessly into emerald-green eyes. Would never again know the ecstasy of teeth on skin or hear her melodic voice in his head.

But something deep inside him told him that despite all appearances to the contrary, running would be a bad, bad move. And so there he stood, muscles locked, eyes unblinking, at the total mercy of a dragon that looked half a second away from swallowing all three of them whole.

Only, she didn’t.

Instead, she yawned.

Jaw hinged open, there was a soft blow of sulfurous breath that had Cedric’s stomach churning, and then . . . nothing else. The great creature stepped back, then to the side, pacing in a wide circle before curling her body and laying her head down. The path she had been previously barring appeared—unobstructed, awaiting. Not that Cedric had even been able to see it through the thick mist, which was now dissipating. The trail wound past the dragon’s resting form, then curved into the side of the mountain, where an opening lay. An entrance, beckoning him.

Nox looked entirely too smug as they turned around, strolling back down the path from whence they came.

“Where are ye going now, ye crazy blue bastard?” Thraigg said, one eye still pinned on the now-resting dragon.

Cedric nodded vehemently, his heart struggling to beat evenly.

Nox tsked before looking back over one shoulder. “To retrieve the horses, of course. Lord Noctis awaits.”

“What was that?” Cedric’s question bounced off stone as he, Nox, and Thraigg walked down the wide, arching tunnel through the mountain. Sid wove between their legs, bounding ahead and then darting back to the group with playful grace, each brush of her shadowy body against Cedric’s boots a reassurance.

This place was equal parts foreign and familiar—at odds. Shimmering stone surrounded them, luminescent, just as the labyrinth walls inside the Celestial Sanctum had been. There was a sort of recognition fluttering within him, something that had him feeling out of sorts from the instant he’d crossed through the mountain entrance.

There was powerful magic here; that much was clear.

This entire place was magic.

“Lyrica is the guardian of the Sacred Mountain,” Nox replied, sounding bored. “She was simply doing her job.”

“Talking about a fucking dragon like she’s a bloomin’ barmaid,” Thraigg muttered from Cedric’s other side, arms crossed over his broad chest. That the dwarf was still displeased with the encounter outside was very clear. “And what kind of job are we talking about, ye lanky arsehole? Checking to make sure we didn’t smell too offensive for celestial senses, is it? Ye could’ve at least given us a hint. The stars-damned horses gave us more of a warning than ye did.”

Nox chuckled.

Cedric tilted his head. “I’m still surprised the horses allowed us to leash them outside with Lyrica so close by. They seemed petrified by her presence earlier.”

“That was before her acceptance was given,” said Nox, as though they were explaining something very simple to someone very young.

“So her job is to, what, pass muster on those who come to call on the Warden of Shadows?”

“I thought I already explained. There is no such thing as calling on him, not really. But yes. She guards the entrance, which only those deemed . . . suitable . . . may pass through.”

“Suitable?”

“Shadow-touched. The mountain is where the curtain between Arcanis and the Hereafter is thinnest. The celestials would be fools if they let just anybody roam about.” There was a flash of white fang as Nox’s lip lifted in a half-cocked grin. “I convinced her to make an exception.”

They gestured at Thraigg, who rolled his eyes and muttered something about “being more than willing to show the celestials what’s ‘suitable.’ ”

“An exception?” Cedric asked, his brow furrowing. “For him, but not for . . . ? Oh.” He placed his palm over his collarbone, over the bondmark that lay underneath the layers of armor and doublet and tunic—his most sacred scar. The kernel of shadow behind his ribs pulsed in time with the beat of his heart.

“Yes,” said Nox. “Oh.”

Cedric bit the inside of his cheek. “Has a human ever walked this cavern before?”

“No. And still, they have not. Lest you forget, knightling, you⁠—”

“—are not human.” He swallowed. “I remember. I suppose that few Arcanians ever have either, if nightwielding is a prerequisite for entrance.”

“Precisely. Admittedly, this is a rather unprecedented thing we are attempting here. I cannot predict whether Lord Noctis will answer, nor what he will do if he does. What sort of cost his assistance might bear.”