Chapter 54
Chapter fifty-four
The path carried them forward, stone by shining stone, stretching endlessly into the dead desert. The air shimmered with fading heat, but the wind had turned cool in places it shouldn’t be. It slid beneath her collar like ghost fingers, raising bumps along her arms.
Rynna adjusted her grip on the leather strap across her chest, the short swords at her back shifting with the motion.
Ahead, Fenn walked in silence, his pace unhurried, the moonlight gleaming silver against the outline of corded muscles in his back.
His hair, tied up in a messy knot, had begun to unravel, loose strands trailing along his neck with every step.
Now behind her, the faint scrape of Kaelith’s boot on stone sounded, followed by the kind of pause that always meant he was thinking too hard.
“You’re brooding,” Rynna said, watching him sidelong.
“I don’t brood,” he muttered.
She snorted. “You absolutely do. That’s your entire brand. Brood, smirk, flirt, sulk. Repeat.”
His lips quirked. “You forgot ‘save your life in dramatic fashion.’”
“That part’s negotiable,” she said, though her tone softened slightly. “You thinking about what’s ahead?”
He didn’t answer right away. Then, with a sly glance, “Just calculating how many dramatic one-liners I’ll need to balance out Fenn’s lack of personality.”
Rynna barked a laugh before she could stop it, glancing ahead at Fenn’s rear, flushing, then back at Kaelith, one brow arched.
Was he always like this? Fenn’s voice slid into her mind, dry and cool.
So annoying? she replied, though a smile tugged at the corner of her mouth.
So different from the man who earned the title of Ember Reach’s greatest traitor.
That…. Her gaze lingered on Kaelith a beat longer. That was never really him.
Fenn’s exhale was soft, but audible.
Kaelith glanced between them. “What?”
“Nothing,” Rynna said, turning forward. “Just remembering something you said once.”
“Something’s changed,” Fenn interrupted. Then, more to himself than to them, “The air feels…thinner.”
And as they crossed the final dip of the stone path, the desert dropped away beneath them, breaking open into a canyon, deep and black, like the world itself had cracked.
“Whoa.” Rynna gulped, reaching for both their hands as the three of them approached the ledge, their steps slowing as the ground beneath the walking stones trembled.
At the end of the crevasse, jagged walls of obsidian fell away on either side like the broken pieces of a shattered blade, while wind threaded through the chasm in spiraling currents.
Rynna squeezed Kaelith’s hand. “It’s like the Hearth.”
“If the Hearth had been absent of life, perhaps,” he answered.
Far below, nestled in the shadowed throat of the gorge, lay a structure. It rose from the sand like a spine. Half-swallowed. Crumbling. Its shape was difficult to parse at first—a curve, a dome, half a ring sunken into the earth, carved from black stone veined with pale blue crystal.
Rynna squinted. The front was framed by pillars, most of them shattered, but a few still stood. Between them was an arched entrance, tall and narrow, sealed by a door etched with unfamiliar markings.
“That’s where we need to go,” she said.
It didn’t glow like the path had. It didn’t shimmer or pulse. But something in the stone radiated presence. It wasn’t dead. Not exactly. It was waiting.
Fenn stepped off the final floating stone and let his boots sink into the sand.
The grains undulated beneath him, slithering upward in thin, spiraling patterns as if something just beneath the surface was trying to crawl up his legs before falling away with a faint hiss.
He didn’t flinch, just stared into the darkness, expression unreadable.
Kaelith was the next to move. “This place was never meant to be found again.”
“But here we are.” Rynna joined them.
The sand was colder here beneath the surface. She felt it.
“Let’s go.” Fenn moved, following a narrow, winding path dug into the crevasse wall.
Rynna and Kaelith followed, the descent steep and silent.
Beneath their feet, stone crumbled in places, sending loose grit skittering into the depths below. Above, the jagged rim of the gorge faded into darkness, while far below, the structure waited, half-buried in sand and shadow.
At the bottom, they came to a halt before the structure’s massive gate. It was carved from dark stone veined with light, yet the markings across its surface held no trace of the Source. These weren’t symbols to be read. They were felt, scratched directly into the bones of the world.
Fenn reached out first, laying his palm flat on the door. “It’s like the henges by the Waygate.”
Kaelith stepped up beside him. “More shifter blood is needed, then.”
“But is it waiting for us…or testing us?” Rynna swallowed, suddenly nervous. It couldn’t be this easy.
Fenn turned to look at her, his eye catching the faintest gleam of starlight. “What do you mean?”
Rynna rubbed her temples, heart aching as something stirred behind her eyes—not a memory, not truly, but an echo. A resonance. Like brushing up against the aftermath of a war she hadn’t fought, but whose scars she somehow bore.
She hadn't stood in this place before, but something inside her remembered.
“I think…” Her voice wavered, threaded with uncertainty. “This is where the world nearly ended, and was saved. A long time ago. Probably before I began my work for the Weaving.”
She turned to Kaelith, searching his face. “I think ones like you—shifters, elemental-born—already faced what’s coming now. And held the line. Sealed it away.”
Her hand drifted toward the carved stone. She didn’t touch it. The energy pulsing beneath its surface made the fine hairs along her arms rise.
“But not without sacrifice,” she added.
A muscle ticked beneath Kaelith’s cheekbone. “And now we’re here to undo their barrier.”
“No,” Fenn said. “We’re here to finish what they started.”
The wind picked up, cutting through the gorge, and the crystal veins in the stone door flickered once—dim, then brighter—then went still.
Rynna stepped forward between them. “We can’t afford to hesitate.”
“The others are fighting a losing battle.” Fenn agreed. His voice had gone quiet, but firm. “They’re relying on us. And we could already be too late.”
Rynna reached out, taking Fenn’s other hand in hers. “Then let’s find out.”
Kaelith hesitated for a heartbeat, then stepped up beside Fenn and placed his hand directly over the other man’s.
Fenn gave him a sideways look, questioning, but said nothing. There was a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes—surprise maybe, or recognition—but it vanished just as quickly. Rynna caught the movement, the choice, and the way Fenn didn’t pull away.
Then the walls hissed.
Seams split open on either side of the gate, and a thin spike jetted out without warning, driving clean through their joined hands.
Fenn grunted as Kaelith swore through clenched teeth as their blood mingled, running down the carved surface, and feeding the grooves like the gate had been waiting for it all along.
“Oh shit. Hold on—” Rynna surged forward.
She grabbed them both just as the spike retracted with a wet hiss, catching their weight as their knees gave out.
Fenn sagged against her left side, Kaelith to her right, breath shallow, hands dripping.
Then the door groaned, stone grinding against stone in a long, scraping arc, releasing a cloud of dust into the space around them.
And as the debris settled, Kaelith eased himself off Rynna’s shoulder.
Grunting, he stood under his own weight, then wiped his bloodied palm across her shoulder with practiced indifference.
She shot him a look. “Seriously?”
“Didn’t want to get it on my pants.” But then he paused, blinking down at his hand. “Wait…”
Fenn frowned, wiping blood on the side of his trousers before inspecting the damage. There was none. The punctures were gone—no torn skin, no scar. Just smooth, clean flesh where a moment ago, bone had been pierced through.
Fenn flexed his fingers. “Already healed.”
“Because why not?” Rynna exhaled and, without waiting, she crossed the threshold.