Chapter 37
Chapter
Thirty-Seven
ALLIE
T he mist of lust vanished instantly.
I hopped off the table and shrugged my coat back on, arms already tensed for battle. Godsdammit, I should have brought my bow.
Ryker blinked and the sparks were back in his eyes with a vengeance. “What do you hear?”
Despite everything in my body screaming to run away from that hum that wanted to tear my muscles from my bones, I took a sharp inhale and listened .
It was lower, slower than before. It didn’t worm in my ear and scratch at my skull.
It wailed.
Those same thousand voices which had been screaming were now–“Crying? I still can’t hear any words, but it sounds sad. Desperate. What do you hear?”
Ryker clenched his jaw. “A warning.”
His darkening gaze jumped from me to the sculpture of the falling star.
Me.
Star.
Star.
Me.
Finally, he looked up toward the heavens once more. “Solkar is testing me.”
Before I could say anything, he placed a hand on my shoulder, turning me toward him.
“Nobody can know about this,” he said fiercely. “Promise me.”
“Is it something that can harm me, my family or the Protectorate? Or any innocent life?”
“No.”
“Then I promise,” I said, when all I wanted to ask was what this was.
His eyes sparked so much, they almost glowed. “Swear you won’t say anything, Allie.”
“I swear,” I said impatiently. The wail began to thrum louder. It delved inside me and made me want to weep. “Or do you need a blood oath?”
Ryker nodded grimly. The situation must have been dead serious if he hadn’t even cracked the tiniest smirk.
His hand fell from my shoulder and I instantly missed his warmth.
He whirled around the table, fisted his palm, and thundered it against the raised center of the table, flames and all.
Another rumble shook the crypt, this time so powerful, the glass resting on his mother’s coffin tumbled to the ground. Ryker used that unnatural speed of his and caught it right before it shattered into a million pieces. Not a drop of alcohol spilled.
The rumble didn’t stop.
Instead, right before my eyes, as the middle of the table descended between the flames, the star sculpture fractured straight down the largest ray. The wall split open and slid to the side with an ancient growl.
A gust of metallic, earthy wind hit my face, chilling it.
It smelled forbidden.
It sounded forbidden.
A drumming beat slithered out of the darkness.
No, not drums.
A strange, otherworldly sound ripped from the depths of the earth.
It sounded like a crystalized heartbeat, sharp and organic at the same time.
“Ryker,” I began, adrenaline pumping through me. “What in the underworld is that?”
He stuck out his arm toward me as if he was inviting me to dance, not join him in the bowels of the crater. “You have to trust me enough to let me show you.”
Did I?
Could I?
I had to, because curiosity was gnawing at me.
So I took his hand and let him lead me inside the darkness. Only the dark wasn’t empty. That same strange purple light pulsed dozens of feet underneath us. Menacing and beckoning at the same time. The crystal heartbeat scratched at my ears and made my eyes water.
We stood at the top of a double set of stairs carved straight out of the sleek rock surrounding us.
“What is this place?” I whispered as if afraid I’d disturb the thump.
“The secret protecting Solkar’s Reach.” He squeezed my hand. “Are you ready?”
No . “Lead the way.”
We rushed down the stony stairs, delving into the ground. With each step, the air turned more metallic, like someone had spilled the blood of an entire battalion as a sacrifice for whatever waited for us below.
My heart began to beat in tune with the razor-sharp thrum. Like it had slithered inside and tried to control me.
My own power swirled, rising up to meet it.
Not violently.
Not like facing a tresspasser or an invader.
Apprehensive. Curious. Watching and waiting for a strike or a caress.
Still, tears began to stream down my cheeks, lured out by the hum that grew louder.
If Ryker hadn’t been holding my hand so steady, I probably would have been shaking–and pretending this whole place wasn’t scaring me. But I felt very mortal in this hollow in the ground that felt endless. Eternal. Godlike.
We finally reached the bottom of the stairs. A stone path continued, circling a rock which didn’t look of this world.
“Ryker…” I gulped, drawing closer to his firm body. “What is that?”
The dark rock was alive with purple veins that pulsed like a bleeding wound.
In and out.
In and out.
It sparkled and oozed light all at once.
It whispered .
“The fallen star which formed this crater,” he said, whispering as low as I did. “Solkar’s retaliation against human hubris. The one which protects us, our realm, and our magic. The lifeline of Solkar’s Reach.”
I stared, fascinated, even as shivers crawled underneath my skin.
“This is no mortal magic,” I said.
It felt different, in every flicker, every light.
“No, but it fuels ours and the rituals we have.” Ryker stepped closer to it, seeming as mesmerized as I was. “As long as it beats and bleeds, we’re safe. Its veins seep into the ground and spider all over the crater, reaching up into the shards that guard us.”
I couldn’t stop the tremble that shook my body this time.
“This feels dangerous,” I said.
Uncontrollable.
“It is–if you don’t know how to harness its power,” he said.
Then he placed a palm on the stone. As soon as he touched it, a bolt passed from his body into me, searing the air out of my lungs.
My power bristled at the intrusion. Still, it didn’t attack.
The tendrils burst out of my chest, coating me and Ryker in a blue haze.
He turned to look at me, a surprising softness in his gaze. “Trying to protect me, Huntress?”
“It seems so, Commander.” I hadn’t even uttered a spell or an intention. My power simply reacted.
The purple light surged toward his palm, as curious as mine had been. At the point of contact, blue and purple danced together, pinging and bouncing, like two drops of rain circling each other.
The tremor of the contact fluttered against me.
“This is so strange,” I muttered.
“What’s strange is that you can see, hear, and feel it,” he said. “This shouldn’t be possible.”
“You keep saying that. Why?”
“Because only direct Nochtvir descendents can. Or should.”
My heart stuttered. “We can’t be related.”
That would have been too vengeful, even for the most terrible gods. Xamor himself couldn’t have devised a plot so sinister.
“No, we can’t,” he said, then hesitated. “When my power entered your body, I didn’t feel anything familiar in your blood.”
“That was very impolite of you.”
“Yes, it was.”
“Just as impolite as me trying to slash your face with a broken bottle.”
“Debatable.” He sighed and blinked at me as if I was some grand puzzle he couldn’t solve. “Why can you see these veins?”
“I’m not the only one,” I said, too defensive, as if I did something wrong. Old habits died very hard; in my past life, I was expected to be perfect, not human. “A girl saw it tonight, too.”
“Younglings are always more perceptive. She will lose that ability in a few years.” He turned back to the fallen star, purple and blue light dancing on his gorgeous face. “You are no youngling.”
Still felt like one most days, though. “Then how?”
“That is a riddle we need to solve.” He rolled his shoulders back, gaining more height out of thin air. “But we have a more pressing problem.”
We .
It sounded good. Too good.
“What?” I asked, almost fearing the answer.
His eyes sparked purple, fighting with the shadows quickly crowding his gaze. For a moment, he didn’t move, too caught up in whatever internal battle was making him shake with fury.
“The heart of Solkar’s Reach is bleeding,” he said, low like an incantation. “And if we don’t figure out how and stop it, we’re all in danger.”