Chapter 4
Lucina
Absolutely the fuck not.
“No.” I shake my head. “I’m not going in there.” I turn to leave, knowing I won’t get far, and sure enough, Callan blocks my path.
“You’ll be fine.” He pops one of the pills into his mouth and sets the other in the palm of his outstretched hand. To speed up the healing process for whatever injuries I’m about to endure.
“You said I wouldn’t get hurt.”
“I said you wouldn’t be injured.” He extends the pill further out to me. “With this, you won’t be. Any injuries will heal.”
My heart begins racing as I look down at the little yellow capsule. I’m not entirely sure how much more the poor organ can take.
“Cin, if you want to be in this coven,” Callan says, plain and simple, “you have to do this.”
I glance up at the stone beast set up behind him, and shivers dance down my spine. I need to be in this coven. It’s not an option for me.
You’re wasting time.
I blow out a shaky breath, my chest falling in defeat. “Alright.” My mouth dries out at my agreement. “What do I have to do?”
Callan looks pleased as he holds the pill up to my lips. “Take this. It should last for four hours or so. The longer you’re in there, the longer your wounds will take to heal.”
Wonderful. “So, I should just expect to get hurt?”
“It’s possible not to…” his voice trails off, his eyes going distant as if he’s running through Albatross in his head. He shrugs. “I suppose.”
My jaw slackens. “Gods, Callan, at least give me an extra just in case.”
“You don’t need it,” he assures me. “You’ll be fine. Open up.”
I’m certainly not going to deny the advantage, so I take the pill and swallow it before I can fall down the rabbit hole of: Do I really need to do this? Because the answer is yes. A resounding yes.
“Wait.” My brows pull together. “Why’d you take one?”
The corner of his mouth tilts. “We all did.”
“We?” I gape, but he ignores me, taking me by the shoulders and guiding me to the front of Albatross. “Callan, what do you mean we—”
“Three rules,” he cuts me off. “No weapons.” Callan feels around my ribcage and pats down the waistband of my shorts.
“No shots to the head, and no timeouts. Once you’re in, the entrance will close behind you, and there will be only one way out.
” He leans down to my level, his chin hovering just above my shoulder. “Questions?”
I stare down the dark entrance in the stone, my stomach somersaulting. “So many.”
“Good.” Callan presses a quick kiss into my temple, squeezes my shoulders once, then pushes me forward—much like he did that first day through the Banyan—throwing me headfirst into Albatross.
I’m thankful for it. There’s no way in hell I could have walked in here on my own.
As soon as both my feet are inside, the exit groans shut, an echo of stone smashing together, sealing me inside. Then it falls deathly quiet. There are no more crickets or frogs, and even the sound of wind rustling the trees ceases to exist. It’s so silent that my exhales sound like screams.
Without any weapons, I need to find some sort of light to draw energy from. My Solian magic is the greatest weapon I have.
I will my feet to move, fear sinking deep in my gut when I turn the first corner of the maze-like structure and see a soft pulse of light coming from the end of the dark hall.
I swallow, my palms growing thick with sweat as I step closer, pressing a hand against the stone.
There’s a quiet hissing sound on the other side, and the smell of something burning hits my nose a heartbeat later.
The wall grows warm, and I move my hand away, staring curiously at the stone.
I look up to the next corner, the soft pulse of light getting brighter now. But that’s exactly what I need—light.
Taking a deep breath, I give myself a pathetic pep talk, and draw magic to my fingertips. The only way out is through. Better to get the worst of it out of the way now while the mender pill is fresh.
Gods, how did I get here?
The hissing grows louder as I approach, igniting a steady drip of fear in my veins. Taking advantage of the adrenaline burst, I practically jump around the corner, but when I see what waits for me on the other side, all the blood drain from my face.
There’s a three-headed snake, about fifteen feet from where I stand, made entirely of flames.
Holy. Fucking. Shit.
A Scarlet Serpent. A replica of the monster I’d heard stories about as a girl. The burning snake with six red eyes that lurks in the deepest pits of hell. They’re legends, folklore—myths.
But I’m looking at one, of that I’m certain.
I’m also certain that if I ever make it out of here, Callan is a dead man.
The Serpents’ heads sway as it slithers down the stone, and magic races through my arms, thrumming against my skin. I back up until I hit a wall, trapped by the maze and a three-headed beast, sparks crackling off its body as it poises itself to strike.
Praying seems pointless.
I dodge the first strike, the flames singeing my skin, but thanks to the mender pill, the burnt flesh heals instantly. I lash out with magic, frantic and careless with my aim. All of it misses. I’m too panicked to think straight—too caught off guard.
I barely evade the second strike, and the third leaves me with a set of fangs sunk deep into my thigh. My scream pierces the heated air as fiery scales wrap around my wrist, coiling up my arm. It burns through my skin like paper, too fast for the mender pill to heal.
The pain is so overwhelming that spots dance in my vision. The sudden dizziness triggers a wave of nausea, but I swallow it down as I fumble to get at least one hand free.
That’s all I need.
Pulling with all my might, I yank my right arm out of its grasp, twisting until my palm is facing its massive body, and then I unleash a violent enough burst of magic that my shoulder jerks back into the wall.
The snake goes flying down the hall, knocked back at least ten feet. Burning scales hit the stone with a sickening thud. I draw in a much-needed breath, gritting against the sensation of flesh knitting back together.
That breath is all I’m able to get down before the Scarlet Serpent rights itself and starts slithering back towards me with vengeance. As if burning me alive is its only instinct.
I throw up a thin ward, one Selene taught me a few weeks ago, but it’s weak, and it won’t hold for long.
As soon as the snake is close enough, it strikes the ward without hesitation.
Fiery scales scald the thin barrier between us, a deep red glow illuminating the dark stone walls.
Sparks catch on the weak ward, fraying the edges bit by bit.
It slithers back and strikes again. I jump, steadying myself with a hand on either side of the wall. More of the ward catches fire.
All I can think to do is ready another ward. This one will fall, and I need more time to think. But how the hell am I supposed to get past a three-headed snake made entirely out of—
That’s when it dawns on me.
It’s made of fire.
The ward falls and the snake lunges, three sets of deep red fangs flashing before my eyes.
I barely get the new ward up in time. It absorbs the impact of the strike, and the shrill hiss of the snake’s disappointment vibrates the ground beneath my boots.
I press myself back against the wall, chest heaving.
Theoretically, I should be able to steal its flames like I steal light from lanterns. I could take its fire and make it mine to wield.
Theoretically.
The snake strikes again, the ward trembles, and seeing as I don’t have much time to talk myself through the pros and cons list, I force down as many deep breaths as I can and drop the ward.
It roars as it pounces, and I rush to make myself entirely permeable—just like Pax taught me. Fire hits my skin, and I yank hard on its flames, throat closing at the merciless burn as I will my body to absorb it.
My knees quake under the pressure of it, more and more heat funneling into my veins. Up until now, I’ve only manipulated low levels of energy, but this amount of light is equivalent to the Selumira bonfire. If not more.
My skin sizzles and blisters as the snake coils around my body.
I grit down until my teeth ache, pulling harder, refusing to break my concentration even as fire burns through flesh.
I’m sure if I look down, I’d find that even the mender pill is struggling to keep up with these wounds. They’re too deep—even for magic.
My vision blurs, a distant scream echoing in my ears that I fear might be mine, then all of a sudden, something breaks.
Like the snap of a log thrown onto a fire. Or the burst of an ember thrown up to the sky.
At the snap in the tension, relief washes through me. I blink, my vision distorted, but I can see it—the fiery light pooling in my palms. The orange glow against my skin.
My focus sharpens, and the flames in the Serpent's scales dim. It’s so subtle I almost miss it.
I pull harder.
Crackling heat pours into every crevice of my body. Fire. Hot and unforgiving. But it’s under my skin. Mine to control. Mine to wield.
With one final tug, the Serpent bursts into a plume of sparks, and an angry red firework explodes in the stone corridor. I cover my eyes, scrambling backwards as the flames ricochet off the walls.
Only when the hall grows quiet do I move my arms away.
Flames circle my limbs, dancing through my fingers, and none of it burns. Wild tendrils of orange, red, and white—crackling and hissing as it moves.
The pressure of it is so great, I can hardly fill my lungs with oxygen. There isn’t enough room in my chest for them to inflate.
I’ve never housed this much energy, but I know it’s too much. Way too much.
I begin moving without a plan, panic gripping me by the throat. It’s like concrete has been poured over my feet, and instead of stone slabs, I’m walking along the ocean floor, the pressure of all the heat and energy making my ears pop.
I need to put it somewhere before I implode under the pressure.