Chapter 28
“Tell me.” There’s no hesitation.
“You need to get in the chute.”
He eyes the opening. “For Mercy’s sake, why are we going in there?” His eyebrows are almost in his hairline now.
“What happened to doing whatever I tell you to?” I plant my hands on my hips. “Either you think I can get us out of here or you don’t.”
“Okay, fair.” He flashes a tiny grin at my zeal.
I move, grabbing a glob of dragon gore, the soft squelch of sludge making me nauseous. The rotting flesh is already singeing away in the presence of the scourge. There’s no time to linger on what this means.
Lucan is at my side.
“Are you sure about this?” He gags, barely getting the words out.
“Not in the slightest.” I’m still crouched, drawing a symbol with dragon guts on the apron over my upper breastbone—a circle with a square and a vertical line.
Lucan regards me warily, and I wonder if he knows what this sigil does.
It had to have been in the yellow dragon automaton, too.
“I’m going to need you to heal me.” I imagine this is going to hurt… a lot.
“All right.” He tugs his collar aside, and I see the familiar edge of the sigil stained on his skin. I need some of whatever he used to do that. “I’m ready.”
Adjusting my shirt to cover the lower half of my face, I reach down to fill my gloved hand with more dragon guts, then stand. My lungs burn instantly, and my eyes water as the scourge thickens the air above us. But I stay focused.
With blood and guts, I draw a square around the chute’s opening, barely able to reach the top.
“Your artistic pursuits leave something to be desired.” A cough follows his remarks. The scourge is getting to him, too.
I ignore him and draw a square on my torso, then a crimson line from one of my wrists to the opposite foot, cutting the square into two triangles.
I swallow the bile that claws at my throat.
Then I make another from the other hand to foot.
I certainly hope they’re going to finally give me new clothes after this…
“All right.” I wheeze and cough. “Get in.”
“Isola—” My name is desperate on his lips. I wonder if he’s figured out what I’m about to do.
“Don’t get sentimental on me now. There’s no time.”
He scrambles in and extends a hand to me, and I use it to help raise myself into the opening.
He grunts and shifts back, making room, until both our bodies are fully inside the chute.
The scourge is so thick up here, my eyes are watering, and I blink several times, desperate to find the lines I painted on the rim.
I’m so relieved I almost cry when I see them. My fingertips touch them as I steady my grip around the top two corners. I extend one leg out from under me, pressing my right foot into the bottom right corner, and the pressure keeps me wedged.
I take a deep breath, trying to slow my racing heart. I look up at Lucan. “Ready?”
“I’m almost scared to say it, but yes.” His eyes are filled with worry.
There’s no time to waste. No time to doubt or further mentally prepare myself for what’s to come. I shift my left foot out to the left corner. The lines drawn across my body connect with the symbol I drew around the outside, making a complete armor sigil.
There’s a breathless surge of Etherlight the moment the lines merge. My body glows a hazy gold that flickers weakly against the thick, crimson scourge.
“Isola! You can’t turn yourself into a human sigil, that’s—”
“The best chance we’ve got,” I grunt between breaths, pinning him with a glare.
We’re so close in this tiny chute. Close enough that I can feel his panicked breathing.
“The armor sigil will keep us safe in here—it’ll block more scourge from coming in.
The other one draws Etherlight from the Font.
I’m going to use it to balance the Ether of the room, to put Etherlight and Ethershade in balance and, hopefully, clear the scourge. ”
“You should’ve let me do this.” He reaches up. His fingertips graze my cheek, warm and callused.
“Too late for that.” I give him a wild grin. I think it’s an expression Saipha would wear—far braver than I feel.
“The scourge eats Etherlight, no? Won’t this just draw it to you faster?”
“The scourge is a product of imbalance. That’s the secret, Lucan.
Too much Ethershade is bad, and so is too much Etherlight—but the Creed doesn’t want to admit that part,” I say softly, as if someone is listening through the door.
“But if you put them back in balance, you have harmony. You have Ether, just Ether, as it was meant to be. I’m betting that I can draw enough Etherlight to neutralize what’s in the room. ”
His fingertips have yet to leave my jaw. “Will it be enough without killing you, though?”
“I’m betting I’m strong enough.” The words are little more than a whisper.
When I was a small child, I never dreamed of going on the walls. I never wanted to play hero. I wanted to be a researcher, like Mum. I wanted to save the world, but not with valiant acts. With pen and a vellum-packed journal and a workshop.
It doesn’t matter if I’m Valor Reborn or not. As long as I draw breath, I’m going to do whatever it takes to defend my home.
“Then I’ll bet on you, too.” His hand leaves my face, and before I can ask what he means, a hazy yellow glow combines with the light radiating off my body. It outlines him, filling in the gaps and gilding his face.
Lucan’s eyes are locked with mine. We share a single inhale and exhale, perfectly in sync.
His hands drop to my waist, and the glow envelops both of us.
I still can’t tell if he sees it or not.
But something in his gaze assures me he does.
Like this is our secret. Precious, dangerous, and forbidden.
I steady myself and draw through the first sigil I drew on my body—the one to pull Etherlight up from the Font.
The rush is so overwhelming that it goes straight to my head, making everything spin. Making me feel like I’m weightless. Like we’re the only two people in the world.
Even as my breathing thins, and it feels like a thousand hands are clawing at me, scraping under my skin, searching for purchase. Even as the freshly healed scars on my back throb, there’s only us.
I stay focused on the Etherlight that flows around us, between us, within us.
The barrier I’ve created with Etherlight and my body with the armor sigil is enough to keep more scourge from attacking us.
Thanks to the flood of Etherlight drawn from the Font, the clawing at my back lessens and the scourge in the room begins to ease.
But, as the seconds drag on, my skin begins to feel too tight. My scar is on fire. My heart flutters, shuddering.
Skip.
Skip. Skip.
I draw a shaky breath and sag, fingers pressing hard into the stone opening to keep myself upright. Not yet. I’m not done yet. He’s not safe.
“Are you all right?” Lucan’s grip tightens on me.
“I’m fine. It stings, a little. But not very much.”
“You’re such a bad liar.”
“Fine, the pain is excruciating.” My vision blurs, and my thoughts jumble.
“Stay with me, Isola,” Lucan whispers, pulling me back to consciousness. “You’re safe with me.” Those hazel eyes, illuminated by gold flecks, are all-consuming. If not for the laughably dangerous position we’re in right now, I might believe him.
“Lucan…are you really on my side?” I whisper.
“Always.” No hesitation. No change in his tone.
I don’t want to believe him…but I do. “Because the vicar told you to be?”
“Because I want to be.”
The last of my resistance shatters. I want to collapse into him and surrender completely. I try to form words, but none come.
The agonizing tear of the scourge at my back finally abates. My fingers tremble before giving out the second I think it’s safe enough—hoping I’m right. Hoping he will catch me if I finally let go.
My foot slips on the opening, and I tumble backward, consciousness wavering. Lucan jolts forward. His hands tighten on my waist, holding my weight. He comes crashing down with me. We twist in the air, tumbling.
I try to wrap my arms around his neck and brace.
Then everything goes black.