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EMBER
Where the illusion Rafferty crafted for me was soft, lovely, whatever comes next is a punch to the damn gut. I hit the ground with a hard thud, and sand fills my mouth.
My stomach rolls, and I cough, sputtering the particles out to the ground I’m lying on. Hot sun burns from above as I attempt to push to my feet. “What the—” The fact that I can speak at all either means I’m still in an illusion—or I’m dead.
Honestly? I’m not sure which would be worse.
Hot wind whips at my clothes as I stumble through the desert, searching for anyone—anything that might allude to where the hell I am. Surely I didn’t do anything to deserve being plunged into hell—did I?
“Hello?” I call out, arms wrapped around my body to keep them from flailing with the punishing wind. “Hello!” I scream it now. But there is no answer.
There are no clouds, no trees, nothing but the burning sun and powerful wind gusts. And the sand. Cannot forget the fucking sand.
I don’t know how long I walk, only that I should be tired. Or hungry. Or thirsty. Yet, I feel nothing.
Something moves ahead, and I call to it. “Hello!” Picking up the pace, I sprint, pumping my arms to reach the thing just ahead. Perhaps it’s another person. Perhaps, they can tell me—the man whirls on me. Silver eyes brighten when they land on me, and he grins.
“My little pet, what are you doing here?”
Oh, shit.I turn and try to run, but he materializes in front of me, head cocked at an unnatural angle. “I don’t know why I’m here. Please. I didn’t mean to—”
His hand closes around my throat, and he squeezes. “I will play with you for a time, little—” He never gets the chance to finish the sentence. His head rolls to the side, though there is no blood when there should be.
The absence of it gives me a horrific view of his severed spine.
He drops me, and I tumble to the ground right beside his body.
“Ember!” A familiar voice—but why?
“Wally?” I glance up at him as his face blocks the sun above. Cheeks burned and blistered, he looks relieved to see me. “What are you doing here? Where are we?”
Sheathing his blade at his side, he reaches down and offers me a hand. I take it and let him pull me to my feet. The moment he does, the sand beneath our feet moves, absorbing the body—and severed head—of my attacker.
“We need to move.” Wally grips my hand and rips me away from the dead. “He’ll be back.”
“He’s missing his head.”
“Ancients don’t die,” he explains. “At least, not that way.” He yanks me farther away, yet even as we move, the scenery does not change.
“Where are we?”
“The prison for ancients.”
Fuck.Panic sinks into my gut, a stone at the bottom of a lake. “What the hell am I doing here?”
Wally stops now and turns to face me. “I fear I have not been honest with you.”
I rip my hand from his grip and cross my arms. “Color me surprised,” I retort dryly. “Then how about you start?”
“Not here.” His gaze darts back and forth. “We need to get to the hole in the prison so we can get into the Veil.”
“I’m not going anywhere with you. Not until you tell me the truth.”
“Ember. If I tell you the truth here, someone will hear, and you will be hunted and slaughtered. You must trust me.” His silver eyes blaze with emotion.
Trust him and risk betrayal.
Don’t trust him and risk death.
