19. Dravik
Dravik
As soon as the moon gives way to the silver sun, we get ready to travel to the core.
Packs full of food and extra furs for Willow, plus as many weapons as we can feasibly carry.
Vhalthor and his army came well-equipped, and they wasted zero time handing out their excess—a fact I am grateful for, because my Willow does not possess any claws or sharp teeth to defend herself.
A well-sharpened dagger might just save her life if all else goes wrong.
Everyone is tense, and you can feel it in the air. Nyx is quieter than usual, and Rhune hovers close enough to me that I trip over him twice while packing. Dagny and her mates seem equally tense, and nobody is speaking more than necessary.
The only one who seems unaffected is Vhalthor. If anything, he looks pleased, humming under his breath as he checks over a wicked-looking blade.
I cut a glance toward Cin, finding him standing frozen at the mouth of the cave, staring unblinking out at the icy landscape.
He’s woken up from his trance—for the most part.
He’s awake enough to stand on his own and fly to Dagny’s lair, but trying to get him to focus on anything or hold a conversation is like trying to teach a rock to fly.
His behavior is the most concerning of everyone, but we can’t do anything about it right now.
“Ready to head out?” Nyx asks, watching me stuff another hoarfrost tuber into my pack.
“As I ever will be…” I gaze toward Willow, finding her in a hushed conversation with Rhune. “I worry about her.”
“We all do,” Nyx says. “But if we don’t do this, she might never be safe again.”
I nod, turning my attention back to my pack, double-checking I have everything Willow might need. Satisfied, I rise and head over to the others waiting near the cave's mouth.
“Time to head out.” Dagny’s voice carries clearly over the wind whipping through the cave. “When we get to the lair, we’ll all regroup in the main cavern. Do not travel deeper until we know what we’re dealing with.”
Vhalthor goes first, launching himself into the sky, wings snapping open with a loud crack.
A powerful war-cry explodes from his throat, and his demon army bellows an answering chorus from down below.
His soldiers rise after him in a dark wave, hundreds of wingbeats filling the air as they follow their king into the horizon.
Dagny goes next, launching off the edge before banking hard to the side and flying toward their lair. All six of her mates fall into formation behind her, their wings beating in perfect rhythm with hers.
Willow crouches down to give Kevin a few last scratches behind the ears. “Be good until we get back, okay?”
Kevin bleats sadly, nuzzling his head into her palm. Willow’s expression crumples at the sight, but we can’t wait around here forever. The young antethorpe has more than enough food here to last until we return, and the cave is as safe a shelter as we could find.
If we fail, and do not come home… Well, the world will have ended. So I suppose it won’t matter at that point.
I push the thought down before my panic takes over.
The flight to Dagny's lair is long, cold, and silent.
Willow burrows deeper into my chest, her fingers curled tight into the fabric of my suit as a small whimper escapes her shivering lips.
Wind cuts hard against my face, and I angle my body to shield Willow from the worst of it, but my efforts are no match for the raging storm.
Just a little longer, my heart. We are almost there.
When I spy Dagny’s lair, I let out a breath of relief—but the feeling doesn’t last long.
We file inside the tunnel and land at the bottom, wings folding tight in the cramped space. The heavy air is thick with wild magic, but something is different about it. A distinct rotting scent.
Something is very, very wrong.
Vhalthor's army is crowded in the large cavern, their faces grim and fists clenched tightly around their weapons. Even Vhalthor seems wary, eyes scanning the room over and over, ears perked for potential threats.
“We’ll catch our breath and keep moving,” Dagny says, feeling the same wrongness we all do. “I don’t want to stay in one spot for too long.”
True to her word, a few minutes later, Dagny rises and moves deeper into the tunnels of their home.
The deeper we travel into the earth, the stronger the rotting smell grows, until our eyes sting and we have to breathe through our mouths.
Eventually, the passage opens up, and all of us file into the horrible room with the pit.
Just like the last time I was here, the roots are spread out and crawling along the floors and walls. But they are neither a healthy blue nor an ominous shade of red.
The roots have blackened, the flesh mushy and rotting, sliding down the walls in clumps of disgusting sludge and squelching underfoot. The stench is heavier here than anywhere else, and I fight the need to retch as it clings to my throat.
Seemingly undeterred by the sight and smell, Vhalthor trudges onward toward the pit. “I’ll go first,” he offers. “I’m excited to see what challenges await me down there.”
Crazy bastard, I think as he plunges into the pit without a care in the world. His soldiers follow dutifully, one after another, their wings spread wide as they disappear into the dark of the gaping mouth.
As the last one jumps, Dagny looks at all her mates, sharing a silent conversation. Then, all at once, she and her mates launch off the edge, following Vhalthor into the depths.
Willow shakes like a leaf, but it’s clear she’s trying to be brave. Rhune reaches over, grabbing her hand in his, and for a second, nobody moves.
“Willow…” He turns to her, gazing deep into her red-ringed eyes. “I cannot lie to you this time. I am… I am terrified.”
Willow breathes a laugh, though it's shakier than normal. “That’s okay, Rhune.” She gazes toward the pit, swallowing hard. “I think we all are…”
I hold Willow tight to my chest, my heart thumping in my ears. “Are you ready?”
“No.” She looks at me, her jaw set. “But we have to go anyway.”
As always, my mate is right.
Nyx meets my eyes, and we nod in silent understanding. No matter what awaits us at the bottom, no matter how unprepared we are, we will trust in our mate and jump.
With one last glance at my brothers, I tighten my grip on Willow and leap from the ledge. Allowing the shadows to swallow us whole.
We descend into darkness for what feels like hours. Willow's grip on me doesn't loosen the entire way down, and neither does mine on her.
When it finally bottoms out, we land in a large, dark, circular chamber. The ice-rock walls here are a deeper blue than anywhere else we've been, so dark they’re almost black, swallowing what little light the pulsing red roots provide.
My eyes take a moment to adjust, but when they do, I realize just how large this place really is. Big enough to fit at least three of Vhalthor’s forces and still have room for more.
Dozens of darkened passages branch out from the cavern, varying in size but not much else. I don't know which one to take. None of us do.
Does that stop Vhalthor? Of course not.
The king of the Southern Isles is already charging toward one of the many tunnels to our right, his dagger drawn and eyes gleaming with bloodlust. His soldiers follow dutifully, but I can tell by their grim expressions that even they have doubts about their leader’s decision.
One look at my mate, and I know I have to stop him.
“Vhalthor! Wait!”
He freezes, turning around with an expression like thunder, dark wings rustling in irritation. Narrowing his eyes in a glare, he stomps over to me, standing so close that I can feel the heat radiating off him.
“You dare speak to me that way? I am a king—”
“If you go that way, you and your soldiers will die.” Willow’s voice is low and eerily monotone—as if the serafyn is speaking through her.
“If you wish for a swift end, then please, be our guest.” She gestures toward the tunnel he was about to travel down, the red ring around her eyes glowing brightly.
I watch Vhalthor's inner battle flash across his face until, finally, his pride seems to yield to his better senses. “Fine,” he grumbles. “Where would you have us go?”
Willow turns in a slow circle, raising a finger and pointing at a small tunnel just to my left. “That way. The path to the core is through there.”
“Are you sure?” Vhalthor demands.
“Yes.” Her voice lowers to a whisper. “It calls to me…”
Well, that’s… concerning.
Before I can voice this, Vhalthor orders his soldiers onward, and they all fall into formation behind their king, filing into the passage two at a time.
We have no choice but to follow.
Eventually, the tunnel widens enough to hold a dozen demons walking side by side, and the ceiling arcs high overhead, offering space to fly if needed. It’s less claustrophobic than the tunnels, though it makes me feel far more exposed.
“Keep an eye out,” I tell Nyx and Rhune. “I don’t like it here.”
“You feel it too?” Nyx glances at me out of the corner of his eye. “Someone watching?”
I nod, not wanting to speak my fears aloud. That someone—or something—has noticed our arrival. “Let’s keep moving.”
We continue walking as the tunnel slopes steadily downward. The air grows thinner with every step, and an icy chill settles in my bones—but I’m not sure if it’s from the temperature or my mounting fear.
Willow alternates between walking and resting in my arms, and I don't complain when she asks for a rest. As small as she is, carrying her is no burden at all. Plus, I don’t like the way she tends to stumble when her muscles grow tired from walking.
The road is rough, the journey is long, and her human body feels the wear and tear more than anyone else.
Halfway through the cycle’s journey, Willow loses the battle and passes out in my arms. She tried to go as long as she could—bless her—but in the end, she was no match for the rugged terrain and the endless miles of marching.
“How is she doing?”