Chapter 33
Thirty-Three
T hat smell. The putrid stench of rot was disgusting. As they trudged deeper into the forest, they moved carefully, hoping to discover exactly what they’d heard.
Feels like we’ve been at this for hours. Their conversation under the stars felt like eons ago as the night sky lightened to shades of violet.
The bond between her and Solflara was still nonexistent—cold where there should’ve been warmth.
For the umpteenth time, she wished she had her magic.
Every hair on her body stood on end as Dawson stopped in front of the mouth of a cavern. Something about this place felt infinitely wrong. A thin layer of mist swirled around their ankles.
Alaire hated going in blind. But what choice did they have?
She glanced at Dawson, his expression stoic, eyes narrowed as they roved over the cave’s natural arch.
About to step forward, Dawson caught her elbow. From the waistband of his pants, he pulled out her daggers. He folded them into her palms, then pressed a finger to his lips.
Alaire flipped the daggers in hand, gripping the familiar leather hilts.
“I’ll take the left.”
Dawson nodded once, but the warning in his eyes was clear: Stay close. Don’t do anything reckless.
With slow, measured steps, they advanced toward the cave. The decomposed stench grew stronger, assaulting her senses with every step. She held both blades at the ready.
A screech, high and full of terror, sliced through the eerie quiet.
Solflara?
Alaire froze. Beside her, Dawson was taut as a bowstring.
Without thinking, only reacting, she bolted into the cave.
Dawson cursed and sprinted after her, but Alaire didn’t hear him. All she could think of was reaching their celestials as quickly as possible.
As they crossed the cave threshold, an invisible barrier snapped into place behind them, emitting a hazy glow.
“What is that?” she choked out.
“Whatever it is, it can’t be good.” Dawson extended a hand back toward the entrance, but it bounced off the barrier.
Alaire sheathed her daggers and pressed both hands against it. Nothing.
She could clearly see the misty path they’d taken but couldn’t reach it.
“We’re trapped,” Dawson concluded.
The air grew hot and suffocating. Stuck in this cavern with no way out—all because she acted without thinking. Again. But Solflara and Beck could be trapped in here , she reminded herself, clinging to the thought to temper the tornado of worry sweeping away her logic.
Digging her feet into the ground, she drew a breath from the breathbind reliquary. On the exhale, her muscles loosened, thoughts steadying enough to focus.
“Are you okay?” Dawson asked softly.
She nodded. “Better now. Thanks.”
He turned back to the barrier. “Let’s see if this works.” He effortlessly conjured cutting winds—blades of air she’d seen slice through solid stone.
Alaire stepped back as he hurled them forward, but they disintegrated on impact.
Her gaze traveled up the cavern’s monstrous height, where stalactites hung like chandeliers of rocks.
Dawson’s warm, calloused hand pressed against her lower back, pulling her close.
“What was that for?” Alaire whisper-yelled.
“Look.” He pointed to the walls.
Her eyes flicked over them, heart stuttering. The cavern was lined with skulls stacked row on top of row, hollow sockets watching every move.
How did I miss that? She unsheathed her daggers, the weight of them anchoring her.
“The Bone Cavern,” Dawson said.
“What the hell is the Bone Cavern?”
“Aeris Academy has a long and twisted history. Some claim it’s haunted—that the veil to the underworld is thinner here.
” His voice was steady despite the fact they were surrounded by hundreds, if not thousands, of skulls.
“The Bone Cavern is an ossuary, holding the remains of novices who ventured too far into forbidden magic, paying the ultimate price when their elemental power wasn’t enough. ”
A shiver trailed up Alaire’s spine at the thought. There hadn’t been any mention of dark or forbidden magic in Aeris Academy’s lore from the books she’d read at Australe Library. The Consortium cleaning up their bloodstained history, if she had to guess.
Stepping forward, the floor creaked. Bones cracked beneath their boots, remnants of people and fae who’d once been alive. The thought made her want to vomit.
“I’m not sure Solflara and Beck are here,” Dawson murmured, staring into the abyss of the cavern.
“Of course they are. What else would make that sound? It was Solflara. It had to be. We haven’t been able to feel our bonds. Something is going on, Dawson, and I’m not leaving without her.”
Even if this place reeks of death .
“This place is steeped in forbidden magic. It could’ve been a residual audio illusion spell from House Cerebral to lure others in.”
Alaire shook her head.
“I don’t even hear it anymore,” he said, tilting his head.
The screech was fainter now. Has my mind been playing tricks on me?
“Stay close,” Dawson ordered, voice firm.
The cavern widened as they moved forward. Something brushed against her back, but she didn’t dare look. The temperature dropped, goosebumps prickling her skin.
A loud, piercing screech rang through the cavern. It went on and on. Warning or war cry—she couldn’t be sure. She quickened her pace, unwilling to waste more time.
The stench worsened the deeper they went. Dawson stopped suddenly, every muscle rigid.
Alaire moved to stand alongside him. His eyes narrowed into the gloom, face a mask of rage.
What are his fae senses detecting?
Wind rattled around the skulls lining the walls.
“What’s happening?”
He leaned down, breath hot against the sensitive skin behind her ear. “We have company.”
Cold dread crawled up her spine. Her heart pounded like a bird trapped in a cage.
“Dawson, what is it?” She fought to keep panic from seeping into her tone. One of the many times I wish I had fae senses.
He didn’t answer right away, gaze darting from shadow to shadow. She couldn’t see it, but she felt its presence, all the same. The air grew colder. His silence spoke volumes.
She kept her blades raised.
“Bloodravagers,” he finally bit out.
Never heard of them .
Before she could ask, a guttural growl reverberated off the walls.
Something stepped into view. Alaire’s blood ran cold.
Its gaunt, skeletal frame was covered in grey mottled skin stretched tight over bones. Yellow eyes glowed, rimmed with crimson. When it noticed them staring, it snapped its jaw, razor-sharp teeth gleaming.
It looked like a skeletal wolf—a nightmare given flesh.
The stench closed in from every direction, followed by countless pairs of glowing eyes peering from the cavern.
“Give me your daggers,” Dawson said. He took them, turning his back to her. When he returned them, they emitted an onyx glow, runes flickering briefly along their edges before vanishing. He drew a broadsword from his back.
Adrenaline flooded her veins. A dozen bloodravagers blocked their path, claws clicking against stone, the sound setting her nerves on edge.
The one in the center caught her attention—larger, meatier, with a presence that radiated command. This was their leader.
The alpha.
Dawson stood perfectly still, gripping his sword tight. The creature stalked forward, eyes locked on him.
He spoke low and steady. “Listen carefully, Alaire.”
She gripped her daggers, angled outward. “I’m listening.”
“Bloodravagers are pack animals. They respect hierarchy. The challenge their leader is laying down—they’ll honor it.”
“Challenge?” Alaire blinked.
“The alpha has to prove it’s still worthy to lead. The pack won’t intervene. When I defeat it, they’ll be too busy fighting over who takes its place to stop us. That’s our chance to escape, find Solflara and Beck, and get the hell out of here.”
When, not if .
Alaire turned away, watching as the alpha lowered itself to its haunches while she tried to process everything Dawson was saying.
Dawson turned her chin back toward him, turquoise eyes darkening. “Under no circumstances can you intervene.” His tone brooked no argument. “You do exactly as I say. Listen to every word, heed any command. And if I tell you to run?—”
“I’m not leaving you.” She tried to turn away.
But he held her firm, his other hand still on his sword. “You will . If I say run, you run. No hesitation. Got it?”
“Got it,” she lied.
Satisfied, Dawson strode toward the alpha.
The creature’s lip curled as it lifted one skeletal paw and etched symbols onto the cavern floor. Alaire was too far away, and it was too dark to see exactly what they were.
The air grew hazy. Then came the screech—the same one that had driven her into the cave earlier, the one she swore belonged to Solflara.
Aether. It’s using magic.
She stepped forward without thinking, instincts screaming to find her phoenix.
Dawson’s hand shot out, keeping her in place.
“Alaire.” His voice cut through her panic. “It’s not real. They were never here.”
“How do you know? They could be deeper?—”
“Because that sound was meant to make us come to them.” His gaze landed squarely on the alpha and its pack.
The truth crashed over her, receding the panic. The bloodravagers had lured them in.
Her blood turned to ice.
It was a trick. A trap.
Guilt swarmed her. Dawson had warned her, and she hadn’t listened. This is my fault . She bit her lip.
Dawson leaned close, brushing his lips against her cheek. “Remember what I said.”
She clenched her jaw but nodded. If Solflara and Beck weren’t here, why couldn’t she feel their bond?
The alpha’s muscles bunched, lips peeling back in a snarl.
Everything exploded into motion.
He launched toward the alpha, his broadsword catching the reflection of dozens of eyes. The alpha lunged, all sinew and snapping teeth. Dawson was faster—ducking low, slipping beneath its advance, the air around him shifting like a living force.
Wind spiraled outward, whipping Alaire’s braid behind her.