Chapter 36
THIRTY-SIX
EMMA
My blood ran cold, and beside me, Saoirse froze, her body going rigid.
Three Radicals stepped forward. Their figures emerged from the darkness like predators closing in on their prey. The faint light from the cave entrance caught the gleam of their weapons, and I realized with a sinking feeling we were cornered.
Without hesitation, I shot my Skindo out, the tattooed patterns on my arm flaring with scarlet light as the blades materialized in my hand. Beside me, Saoirse moved with calm precision, her hands flexing as she prepared to fight unarmed.
I lunged toward the first one, my blade slicing cleanly across his throat before he could react. Blood sprayed in an arc, and he dropped with a gurgle.
Saoirse was already on the second man, dodging his swing and stepping in close.
She slammed her elbow into his ribs, the force making him grunt in pain.
Before he could recover, she followed up with a sharp uppercut to his jaw, sending him sprawling.
A swift, brutal kick to the side of his head finished him off.
The third Radical, larger and more skilled, charged at Saoirse with a knife, forcing her to backpedal.
I darted in, slashing at his arm to disarm him, but he was quick, dodging my blade and swinging his fist toward me.
Saoirse seized the opportunity, grabbing his wrist and twisting it hard enough to make him howl.
He yanked free, but the distraction was all I needed. I drove one blade into his side while Saoirse delivered a crushing blow to his throat. The man collapsed between us, choking and lifeless, his blood joining the others on the cold stone floor.
The cave fell silent, save for our heavy breathing. I retracted the Skindo, the tattoos clicking back into place as the crimson faded from my arm.
“Damn it,” I muttered, surveying the carnage. “This got bloodier than planned.”
Saoirse flexed her fingers, unbothered. “Eh. Blood’s just drama in liquid form.”
I shot her a smirk. “And you’re the expert on drama, I take it?”
“On blood,” she said, and winked.
My gaze swept the three bodies. “And here I thought you’d let me do all the work.”
She snorted, flicking a speck of blood off her sleeve. “Please, I carried this fight. You were only here for moral support.”
I gestured at the bodies. “Pretty sure my kills outnumber yours.”
Saoirse cocked her head, unimpressed. “Pretty sure you struggle with basic counting.”
I huffed a laugh, wiping my hands on my pants. My pulse was still hammering, but I wasn’t about to admit it.
Saoirse gave me a quick once-over, her piercing stare narrowing. “You good?”
“Still standing.”
“Low bar.”
“Yet here we are.”
She rolled her eyes, but the corner of her mouth twitched.
We moved deeper into the cave, the air shifting around us—charged, humming, like the stone itself was alive and watching. Because clearly, things weren’t unsettling enough already.
“You feel that?” Saoirse murmured as she scanned the dimly lit passage ahead.
I nodded. “There’s definitely something here.”
We walked slowly, the charge intensifying with each step, we approached a wide doorway shrouded in darkness. I peered inside and saw a narrow, jagged pit stretching down like a canyon.
It cut through the cave’s floor, dropping straight down into a blackness so deep it was impossible to see the bottom. The rough, uneven walls made the descent look even more dangerous, and every sound—drips of water, distant creaks—echoed back up, making the space feel colder and more confined.
“What the hell is this?” I whispered, peering into the shadows stretching before us.
Saoirse squinted. “An abyss of sorts?” A faint, rhythmic rustling echoed from the depths below. “Do you hear that?”
“I do…what is that?” I leaned closer to the edge, straining to listen. “Water?”
“No.” Saoirse’s face paled visibly before she took a step back. “Snakes.”
The sound was unmistakable now: a sinister hiss, a slither in the dark, each second driving a chill higher up my spine—even though we still saw nothing.
“Ragnar,” I mumbled, a mix of dread and reluctant admiration for the Radicals’ twisted knowledge of Viking lore.
Saoirse threw me a bewildered look. “What’s Ragnar?”
“He was a Viking warrior. Met his end in a pit of venomous linguine.”
Her lips pressed into a thin line; her gaze fixed on the unseen menace below. “Let’s not follow his example?”
I stifled a snort. “Yeah, let’s not.”
We edged along the abyss, one careful step at a time—because falling into a maw of writhing death didn’t quite fit my self-care goals.
“So…” Saoirse drawled. “How exactly do we get across? We can’t see the Radicals from here, so if they translate—”
“Or switch on the Amplifier,” I added grimly.
She exhaled through her nose. “Right. That.”
“Starting to think the snakes might be the least of our problems.”
Saoirse’s jaw tightened. “They wouldn’t turn it on, and I’d bet anything it is on the far side of this chasm. Why else go to these lengths to keep people out? My guess is they’ll need their own translation to reach it and activating it prematurely would risk exposing them.”
“Can an Amplifier be ‘remote controlled’?” I asked, the possibility prickling my nerves.
She paused, considering. “No idea. I’ve never heard of it being done. All I know is it has to be imbued with energy to function.”
A heavy silence stretched between us, filled only by the ominous rustling below.
Saoirse shook her head, visibly shuddering. “I’m not jumping. I’m sorry, but snakes… I don’t do snakes.”
I gave her a faint, dry smile. “I don’t think either of us is about to go full Olympic long-jumper over a nest of lethal nope.”
Taking a slow, steady breath, I extended my arm, letting my magic unfurl. The red mist twisted and solidified into a makeshift bridge, stretching into the void like a challenge.
Saoirse eyed it warily. “Do we trust it?”
“Not even a little.”
She sighed. “Fantastic.”
I stepped onto it, feeling the weight of my own gamble. “Stay here,” I muttered. “Cover me. Watch my back.”
She let out a short, humorless laugh. “Oh, don’t worry. If you fall in, I promise I’ll say something nice at your funeral.”
I flipped her off, but as I took a cautious step forward, Saoirse’s hand shot out, pulling me back. She pressed a finger to her lips, silencing me instantly.
Then I heard it too—voices, distant but steadily approaching, their echoes bouncing off the cavern walls and making it impossible to gauge how close they really were.
“Shit,” I breathed.
Before I could react, flickers of movement appeared behind us—shadows spilling across the passage. We were out of time.
“Move!” I hissed, grabbing Saoirse’s arm. We bolted onto the bridge, boots hammering the haze-formed surface—too loud, too reckless. The abyss yawned beneath us, black and bottomless. My heart pounded in my throat.
We were halfway across when the first bolt of translation sliced overhead.
“Down!” Saoirse shouted, diving low. I followed, the bridge rippling beneath us as another blast grazed the edge of it, destabilizing it.
I looked back—Radicals were sprinting after us.
A third blast struck right behind me. The bridge buckled.
The next one came too fast to think. Another shot, point-blank. The edge of the bridge cracked open beneath our feet.
Saoirse slipped, tumbling sideways with a gasp.
“Got you!” I shouted, throwing out my arm—and with it, a pulse of magic. A ribbon of scarlet darkness coiled from my fingers like a lifeline, wrapping around her waist. She jerked midair, suspended above the abyss, her arms flailing before she managed to grab hold of the strand.
But I didn’t have time to steady myself.
The final bolt struck.
The bridge exploded in a flash of light and force.
I lost my footing.
And I fell.
Plummeting straight toward the pit—straight into the nest of writhing snakes—while my translation still held Saoirse suspended, right out of sight of the Radicals.
“No!” she screamed as the wind tore past my face. The cave swallowed me whole, as I fell through a blur of darkness, pressure, and screaming—hers, mine, maybe both.
I twisted midair, barely managing to control my descent before—
Wham.
Pain. Rock. My back slammed into something jagged, then another ledge below, and then—
I landed.
Hard.
Right in the middle of something that moved.
A split-second of silence, and then—
Hissing. Everywhere.
I jerked upright, only to realize my hands were planted on scales. Cold, smooth, slithering over each other like oil. My breath caught.
No. No no no no no.
I scrambled to my feet—bad idea. I slipped again, landing hard on my knee, and this time, something sharp sank into my calf.
“Ah—!” I screamed. “Fuck!”
The pain was white-hot, pulsing like fire through my leg. I swatted blindly, slamming my hand against something long and thick that recoiled with a wet hiss.
I was going to die here. In a fucking snake pit.
Snakes. So many snakes.
“EMMA!” Saoirse’s voice rang out above me. She was still dangling; caught in the tether I’d left behind. She swung gently in the open air, suspended over the crater, but was too far up to see me.
I tried to stand again, this time slower, while I could hear the blood thundering in my ears. My leg buckled. The puncture wound throbbed. Another hiss—closer this time.
I slapped a hand over the bite, drew in a shuddering breath, and let the golden haze flicker beneath my skin—just enough to force the venom out and seal the lacerations.
A wave of searing heat shot through my calf—then vanished.
The pain dulled, and I could breathe again.
Somewhere above us, a Radical shouted.
“They fell,” a voice called. “The LiaPrism didn’t pick up any translation. They’re gone.”
“Leave them,” said another. “If the fall didn’t kill them, the pit will.”
That was my cue.
Get out. Now.