109. Lily
LILY
Lily screamed so loud that the dust in the room trembled, and she dropped the Chalice.
Her wonder at the shrine evaporated and all she wanted was to get somewhere safe with overhead lights.
Fumbling, she scooped the wooden box and the Chalice—every symbol now glistening crimson, the metal unnaturally warm for something that had been sitting buried under winter stone—into her backpack.
She ran through the darkness, her light bouncing crazily off the walls, but she didn’t even care. Logically, she knew the ringing had been because she had won the Elumnara, but it reminded her that she was alone, in the dark, underground, and that was where monsters lived.
As she resummoned the stairs and climbed them, dizzy, emerging into the grand vestibule, she finally let herself stop to breathe, leaning against the stone wall. She gazed up at the great chandelier, at the unicorn tapestries flanking the walls, and began to cry.
If someone had asked, she wasn’t sure she could have told them why.
Relief? maybe. Joy? Possibly. Sorrow? Not unlikely.
She only knew that something was over, and that meant that she was one step closer to everything being over.
Windermere’s Heir. What did it mean? Could it break a curse? She wasn’t going to hold her breath.
After an indulgent length of time, she peeled herself off the wall and made her way to the tower. As she opened that door, that same skin prickle she’d felt so much recently amplified, crashing over her in a wave of anxious nausea so intense that she actually gasped.
Something moved behind her, and she turned.
“Hey, Lily,” Conrad said, right before he smashed her across the face.