Chapter 45 Meryn #2
Some of the obstacles are sheer and shiny, like walls of black gemstones. Others are studded with spikes as sharp as a direwolf fang and five times as long.
In the strange light, it looks like the spikes are reaching for us. I shudder and pause until the sensation passes, not trusting myself to move silently until I regain my focus.
Throughout, Venna’s steps are sure and even. I focus on her slow progress, the careful way she places her feet, and mimic.
Twice, Venna pauses and says in sign language: “Get down.”
The first time, the direwolves just have to duck down to avoid disturbing a fragile-looking series of stalactites above us. It’s uncomfortable, watching them hang their heads low, but we get through it unscathed.
Then a minute or so later, Venna gives the signal again, along with another word I don’t catch. I strain to remember the sign she’s making and then remember when I see what’s ahead: a tunnel.
Fuck.
I carefully signal back behind me, making sure Noemi and Stark and their wolves are prepared.
Anassa gets right up to it before realizing she’s not low enough to the ground. My body is tight as a bow as I watch her carefully move backward again so that she can get into position.
She crouches so low the fur on her belly brushes the ground as she moves. I let her go first so that she can move at her own speed in there.
Gulping, I decide it’ll be easiest to crawl as well. I ease myself carefully, so carefully, onto hands and knees, and then I inch forward. My heart is in my throat the entire way through.
If there’s any disturbance, if any of the wolves forget and lift their heads…
My ears play tricks with me, creating sounds when there are none. The meager blue light goes fuzzy in my eyesight.
My hands tremble, and I keep all my focus on my movement. Slowly, slowly. One inch at a time.
Finally, the tunnel ends, and we’re able to straighten.
Glancing up and past Venna, then, I think I can make out a door—yes, it’s an open doorway, and now Venna is passing through, now Skaia—
We’re all through a few moments later, breathing hard and brushing ourselves off. After the silence of the room behind us, our relieved breathing sounds loud and wild.
“Venna?” I reach out experimentally, and yes, the mental connection forms this time. Must be because the task is complete?
She looks at me, and only when I’m beside her do I realize she’s shaking. I reach out and take her hand. “Thanks.”
She huffs a breath and nods. “I nearly threw up.”
I hug her arm to my chest briefly. “You got us through that. You were amazing.”
Her eyes soften slightly.
“What was that blue light?”
She hesitates. “It’s… something I’ve been experimenting with, now that our powers have gone a little crazy. I still bend the shadow, like when I’m rifting, but instead of calling it toward me I’m pushing it away, so that any ambient light nearby rushes in.”
I shake my head. “That’s genius. Have you heard of any Kryptos ever doing that before?”
Before she can reply, the room we’re in erupts with burning red light. I jolt and cling to Venna’s arm. When I face forward, the Daemos symbol is burning with unnaturally red fire on the doorway.
And just like that, our mental link is broken. My magic is dampened down once more.
Cratos steps forward, a black silhouette against the bloody light. Stark looks back at us. “Ready?”
“That seems like a question you have to answer,” I reply.
His jaw ticks, and he turns without hesitation, approaching the door.
It grinds open just the same, making my bones rattle.
The chamber it reveals is similarly empty, long and narrow, but this time, we can see the opposite side.
The far wall has another heavy stone door at its center. And it’s shut.
“Seems like we’ll have to figure out how to open that,” Noemi whispers.
“Daemos magic,” Venna says, following after Stark. “Maybe you’ll have to knock it down.”
“Without knocking the whole tower down on us?” I exclaim.
“Bad idea,” Anassa confirms.
“Quiet,” Stark says. He’s reached the center of the room now. He mounts Cratos, and the two of them do a lap of the room together. The red fire flickers around us, refusing to grant us any warmth. I shiver and look around the room, confused.
“You don’t sense anything?” Venna asks.
“No,” Stark replies.
“Wait,” I say, and turn. I squint up at the space above the passageway we just came from. “There’s writing above the doorway.”
The moment I say so, the door we walked through grinds shut behind us. My heart rate picks up again.
We’re entirely closed in now, trapped in both directions. The wolves growl and shift around nervously, tails flicking and eyes flashing. They’re made for wide-open spaces, not tiny, cramped rooms.
Venna reads the words aloud. “Strength is fire, and loyalty light—both make the hand that wins the fight.”
Instantly, the red fire catches brightly and climbs up the bare stone. It shouldn’t be possible. There’s no fuel for it to burn with. But then, none of this should be possible.
I watch in somewhat terrified awe as the fire starts to carve tens of symbols all along the walls.
They’re all hands in various positions.
A fist striking down, crushing a broken helm.
An open palm facing outward, as if begging for peace.
A hand holding a small, round mirror.
A hand engulfed in fire, rising high.
Two hands clasped together tightly, chained together at the wrists.
One is holding a crown tight enough to bleed.
“I think we’ll have to choose one,” I say.
There’s a rumbling sound from beyond the walls, deep in the stone. Beside me, Anassa tenses and turns. The flaming walls are pressing closer, dragging and scraping toward us at a steady speed.
“Stark!” I scream.
“We have to choose fast!” Venna shouts.
But he’s already acting. A pulse of his magic shatters through the room. His fists strike out on either side of him, and his strength slams against the stone. They groan and shudder, but Stark’s power holds strong. They’re only barely drawing closer now.
“Anassa, help him!” I plead.
Anassa moves first, then all our wolves throw themselves against the walls to help slow the crushing press of the stone around us. The rest of us immediately start scanning the symbols.
Stark lets out a growl, glaring forward, already breathing hard. The presence of so much of his magic in an enclosed space makes my ears pop and my eyes sting. His impelling strength channels in a deadly current above my head.
“It’s the hands clasped together. Right? Loyalty!” Noemi cries.
“What?!” Venna spins to look at Noemi’s face.
Noemi points at the symbol she means. “Do I touch it?”
“Wait, don’t! The chain makes it seem unwilling,” Venna says hurriedly.
My eyes scan over the symbols, trying to find one that makes sense. Strength. Loyalty.
We need a symbol that represents both. But there are so many, and my heart is beating too hard for me to think. I can’t focus on anything other than the pained sounds Stark is making.
“Meryn, this one?” Venna shouts, hand hovering over a symbol I can’t even make out.
My eyes are on Stark. He can’t hold out forever. I need to act. I need to help him.
“Work faster,” Stark growls. His arms are starting to shake against the strain. He’s the strongest Daemos alive, but even he has limits.
The walls start to win the fight against Stark. He screams in pain and bends over. His magic pummels through the room, turning my insides to paste. I sob, the panic gripping me in earnest.
And then I realize. Stark is staring at me. His dark eyes are on me, burning as though I’m the source of all this strength. He’s drenched in sweat. His features are set in a furious grimace. But his eyes are all mine.
Loyalty.
“It’s…” I stagger back. “It’s a crown. Find a crown!” Venna rushes to the one of a hand clenching a crown tight. And I cry out, “Not that one!”
It’s no different from the bound wrists. No, Stark would never hold me so tightly that I couldn’t breathe.
A true Daemos is still a member of his pack, subject to his Alpha, loyal to his leader even when his strength burns brighter than the rest. Stark is…
There’s another crown positioned above an open hand, palm up, fingers spread. An offering.
My fingers slip into its fire, an odd tingling sensation where it touches me heatlessly. Instantly, the walls fall silent and stop their ominous advance. There’s a brief moment of suspense, then they start to retreat to their original positions.
And with them, the door opposite the entrance yields.
All the fire dissipates, replaced by the soft red glow.
I wipe shakily at the tears on my face and rush to Cratos’s side. Stark is slumped over his back, breathing hard, arms shaking.
“Hey. Hey,” I beg, and touch his leg.
He lets himself slip from Cratos and stumbles to land on his feet. I grunt as I catch him, straining against his weight. But I don’t care. I wrap my arms around him and hold him up.
“I’m fine,” he pants. “We should move.”
“Two seconds,” I say. “We’ll call it an order, loyal Daemos.”
He huffs a weak breath, and his fingers tremble on the back of my neck.
Reluctantly, I part from him. I run my hands up along his arms to reassure myself, then I turn to the others.
“Sorry,” I say awkwardly.
Noemi grins. “It’s fine.”
“You didn’t smolder at me after my trial,” Venna teases, and I smack her as I walk past her to mount Anassa.
Cratos lowers himself slightly for Stark, and I hear him curse to himself when his arms don’t entirely bring him all the way up on his first attempt. Once he’s mounted, he scowls at me for watching him to make sure he’s fine. I roll my eyes at him as Anassa and I walk past.
We move together through the door. There’s yet another chamber, this one with a set of more spiraling stairs leading downward. I roll my head on my shoulders and urge Anassa farther into the depths.
After a few minutes of spinning stairs, we step down into a circular landing. This one looks more like a natural cave formation, maybe because of how deep we’ve come. The light is slightly different here.
The symbol on the door catches with golden flame. Phylax.
Noemi and her wolf creep forward slowly, but she doesn’t jump when the door starts opening for her. The chamber she reveals is vastly different from the other two.
I follow her out onto a ledge. “Oh shit,” I breathe out when I see the chamber. How is this possible?