Chapter 23
RYLAND
The world lurched as Varian’s magic yanked us through the space between the island and our destination.
For one heartbeat, I couldn’t see, couldn’t even breathe, tasting a hint of frosted rain, then we stood in the cold, dim interior of a tomb-like hallway smelling of death and damp stone.
Gravespire.
I pulled Lyrae deep into the shadows with me, her sharp eyes scanning the corridor, like me, measuring the distance to the closest exit, Varian slipping to my other side, without a single word spoken between us. Smooth and silent, out of sight of any guards in under two seconds.
Faster than we ever could have a hundred years ago, and a testament to the lives we’ve all led in between now and then.
Exhilarating, to be hiding in the dark again, the thrill of the hunt burning in my veins.
“Just like old times,” Lyrae murmured, excitement brightening her eyes and I couldn’t stop my grin, couldn’t help the flash of fierce joy at the rightness of the three of us together again. Thieving.
“We’re past the guards. They have no idea we’re inside,” Varian murmured. His bruised knuckles tightened around his dagger, his face still a shade too pale from the exertion of carrying us both here. “I can’t believe I had to follow a fucking crow.”
“Birds have an excellent sense of direction.” Lyrae’s lips quirked. “That’s what I’ve heard, anyway.”
I looked away to keep from laughing. “Stop it, you two. Remember, this trip is recon only. Ten minutes to confirm the Triune is here, then we head back to the island.” Every breath left a plume of fog hanging in the heavy air, thankfully remaining in the shadows, but we’d have to be more careful as we went deeper.
The interior of Gravespire was no less menacing than its name.
Black stone walls loomed around us, carved with ancient glyphs that seemed to writhe in the flickering torchlight.
Every corridor was rounded at the top, each stone chiseled by a primitive hand.
I didn’t know what this place was a temple to, but the air reeked with a thick, metallic tang, like ozone before a storm.
“Such a lovely place. Too bad we don’t have time for sightseeing,” Lyrae muttered, keeping her voice low and a knife in one hand. “The artifacts—are they here, Var?”
“Of course, I have to do all the work.” Closing his eyes, sweat beaded on his forehead as he cast his magic, fingers twitching at his sides.
If he wasn’t worn down to the bone, this would have been simple, but my friend was conserving his magic for the return trip, and he had so very little to begin with in this place.
A faint ripple of energy pulsed through the air, setting my teeth on edge, then his eyes snapped open.
“They’re here. But…” He paused, a frown creasing his brow. “They’re shielded by such a powerful ward, I can barely sense their presence. As if they are tucked inside some sort of void.”
I tightened my grip on my sword, its hilt warm against my palm. “Then we figure out which room they’re stored in and try to get eyes on the marks. Once we confirm all three are here, we’ll figure out how to access them. Once we have that intel, we’ll get a head count on the guards, then we’re out.”
Standard operating procedure, and something we’d done a hundred times before.
“There’s another thing.” Varian scanned the empty hall. “Only a handful of guards are outside, not the army Rooke claimed guarded this place.”
“We’ll chalk that up to good timing, then,” I murmured, though there was seldom such a thing as luck in our business. As for time…we had to make this fast.
I didn’t like this place.
Down this deep, the shadows seemed to come alive, every corner full of a hungry quiet that seeped beneath my skin, cold and unforgiving, much worse than the soundless dark echoing from somewhere down the corridor.
Not footsteps—no, nothing so mundane—more like ancient voices sighing, the laments of the cursed, the whispering of the dead.
“Don’t waste time,” I muttered, the hair on the nape of my neck standing straight up. “No distractions.”
Lyrae nodded, prowling down the corridor as we flanked her, every soft step echoing faintly off the stone, a whisper of sound.
Corridor after corridor, we followed Varian through a veritable labyrinth of twisting turns, every bend leading to another identical stretch of echoing, shadowed passageway.
“What if we find them and have the chance to break the wards?” Lyrae’s soft question skated over me, leaving a shiver of dread behind. “Tell me we’re not walking away empty-handed today.”
“Greed gets us caught,” I reminded her, just as quietly. “Recon only. I mean it, Ly.” I added, forcing myself not to grab her arm and yank her back as she stepped ahead of me, forced myself not to tell Varian to call off this entire thing and fly her back to the Citadelle where she’d be safe.
Greed caused me to lose her.
Greed had gotten good people killed and torn our lives apart.
The absence of Gravelock’s soldiers outside weighed on me, because turn after turn, we still hadn’t run across a single soul, where there should have been guards posted.
But there were plenty of other, invisible protections.
Foul magic hung thick in the air, a constant, oppressive reminder that danger waited around the very next corner.
Whatever part of the temple we were in now was ancient.
Cursed.
A place where anguished faces were carved into the walls, mouths open in silent screams, carved-out eyes staring blankly.
Runes and symbols were scraped into the stone in long, angry slashes, as if the stone masons had been locked down here, forced to carve the words of the gods into stone until they’d gone mad.
None of them were legible, perhaps from some ancient language no longer spoken, but my skin prickled, dread crawling over me like ants.
“We’re getting closer,” Varian murmured. “Up ahead.”
His eyes found mine and like me, he was thinking of the last time the three of us had done a job together, and the disastrous ending to that night.
How many times had we regretted ever setting foot in Lord Maldrake’s palace?
So many, I couldn’t count. We’d regretted that choice while chained in a prison cart on our way to Caladrius, over a roaring fire with strangers, while trekking through the cold-as-fuck High Barrens, searching for innocent witches to kill.
I was so fucking full of regret over that night, it was a wonder I didn’t explode.
But now that we were in the Shadowlands, I was one step closer to getting my revenge on the asshat who set us up.
The Fae fuck who ruined our lives and cost me a future with the female I loved.
And he would never even see me coming. Not until it was too late.
Over the next five minutes, the past swallowed me alive, my instincts sizzling with every new trickle of fear, the panic racing up and down my spine. There was nothing here, nothing but darkness and cobwebs and these slashing marks that seemed to grow angrier with every passing moment.
As if the very walls were screaming at us to run.
One more turn and, thank fuck, we came face to face with a massive, rune-inscribed door.
The power radiating from the thick iron was palpable, a hum that ripped into my bones like a sharpened saw through a tree. Varian’s face turned grimmer the longer he studied the glyphs, hands clasped behind his back, as if he was physically restraining himself from touching them.
“The Triune is behind this door.” Varian shook his head. “But we’re not getting through. This isn’t just some clever lock or warding spell to break. The protections are woven into the stone itself. Perhaps even hammered into the iron. I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“Not a surprise,” I murmured, “given how old this place is.”
Clever, really, choosing an ancient temple for a hiding place. This magic down here tasted arcane enough to be obsolete, spells no mage or sorcerer of our time could understand. Or break. And Varian was as clever as anyone I’d ever met, but even he was stumped.
“I…can’t even tell what sort of magic this is,” he muttered, only confirming my suspicions.
Frustration flared in my chest, but I forced myself to think. “Then we’ve confirmed everything we can right now. We’ll head back to the island and regroup. Maybe Rooke will have an idea of how to break through such old magic.”
Lyrae reached out, her hand almost brushing the door.
Fear washed through me in a sickening wave before she paused, her fingertips an inch from the faint glow that would probably kill her.
“We’re already here,” she shot me a questioning look, as if she hoped I might agree. “We shouldn’t waste this opportunity.”
Before she could take another step, my fingers closed around her wrist and I tugged her to a safe distance. The glowing runes around the door seeming to mock our failure, but I didn’t care. I didn’t care about treasure, or riches, or even the fucking Triune.
“I’m not…we’re not taking any unnecessary risks, Lyrae,” I murmured against her ear, hoping she couldn’t tell my voice was shaking. “We’re heading back to Frostveil, where the four of us will come up with a plan.”
“We have to get outside this section of the temple,” Varian said, sweat beading on his brow. “My magic is for shit down here, maybe because of whatever’s imbued into these stones.”
I was spooked, that’s all, I told myself, as we crept back the way we’d come.
Maybe this was the past haunting me, but every time I looked at Lyrae, doubt infected me like a poison. Fear became a dark and bottomless sea, and I closed my hand tighter around her delicate wrist, not holding her back any longer, but hanging on.
Like she was my anchor and I was the one who was drowning.
Like she was saving me.
I should never have brought her to this place.
This was the disastrous Maldrake job all over again, this was me, risking her life for a bit of gold, when Lyrae was the only thing that had ever mattered.
And I’d fucking brought her here, surrounded by enemies I couldn’t even see, risking the woman I loved like I hadn’t learned my lesson.
I wanted to take her someplace safe and lock her up, keep her behind a spelled, unbreachable door, because she was the most precious thing in the world.
Her pulse raced beneath my finger, body softening when I pulled her close enough to see her pupils dilate, tongue rimming her bottom lip nervously.
No, I was taking no fucking chances when it came to Lyrae.
Finally, Varian nodded. “This is a good spot, I can access my power.”
“Then take us back to Frostveil, Varian.”
When he took her other hand, a cold wind swept us all away.