Chapter 3
THREE
The first compromise is the hardest.
ALISTAIR
Every muscle in my body thrums as we hike to the portal.
Luca’s knowledge of his home realm, and his ability to navigate it despite never having set foot here, is astounding. And worrisome.
Normal kids don’t remember detailed bunker coordinates all the way into adulthood.
I study the surrounding woods, trying to stay alert.
As the snow thins, so do the trees. The blue-tinged sun melts some of the ice pellets, but it’s still bloody cold. Add in the glares Casanell tosses my way every few minutes, and I’m at serious risk for developing frostbite.
His censure is uncomfortable. Even while trying to focus only on our escape, it makes me squirm. It’s not exactly guilt I’m feeling, but it’s too close for comfort. I made the best decision I could with the information I had. If Ciprian can’t accept that, is it even my fault?
My brain says no. My crawling skin says the opposite.
But that’s a problem for later.
We’re making as little noise as possible, but there’s no way for five people to march through ground up ice in silence. As a result, our progress sounds like a giant munching on granola. It’s basically Malach with his ridiculous sugary cereal, only amplified.
Ciprian steps on a stick, and it cracks.
I wince. Maybe it’s not that bad. I swivel to look behind us and shudder at the wide procession of tracks we’re leaving. I was wrong. It’s worse than I thought. Whatever the opposite of leave no trace is, that’s us.
And then there’s Celine’s hair.
The monochromatic pallet of brown and white that makes up the frozen forest is dull and dingy. In comparison, Celine’s hair is living flame. Red strands whip her cheeks constantly, the wind making it impossible for her to maintain her sleek ponytail.
From the way she keeps tucking loose strands behind her ear only for them to fall out again, I can tell it’s driving her nuts.
Luca holds his hand to the side.
I reach out to stop Ciprian.
He leans away from me.
I drop my arm, and it’s all I can do not to roll my eyes. For someone who laughs as much as he does, he sure can hold a grudge. I wish that trait wasn’t familiar to me.
Luca motions for us to be quiet, then waves his hand.
I frown, Celine blinks blankly, and Ciprian narrows his eyes.
If Luca thinks we understand his cryptic sign language, he’s mistaken.
Besides the obvious initial attempt to get everyone to shut the fuck up, I don’t have a clue what he’s trying to tell us.
Hazel eyes flicker to yellow. I don’t blame him for being frustrated, but I can’t read his mind. Thankfully, Malach can, because he nods vigorously and drops into a crouch.
I follow suit. Even if I don’t know what Luca wants, I’m not about to stay standing while Malach squats. Without him, I’m the tallest, and the perfect target for a bullet or magical blast. The rest of them join us on the icy ground.
Luca points at Ciprian, then jabs his temple twice.
Ciprian puffs out a breath and nods his head. A second later, his gaze loses focus. I’m not sure how much physical awareness he maintains when using his nightmare magic, but when he sways in his crouch, I don’t hesitate to grab the back of his sweatshirt and steady him.
He can thank me for saving him from eating ice later. I won’t wait around for it, though. Face pale and chapped, Ciprian holds up eight fingers. I tilt my head. So few? At a portal leaving a prison realm for monsters?
My skin tingles.
Ciprian’s mouth falls slightly open as he concentrates, and I tighten my grip on his shirt as he sways again. We aren’t aligned and perhaps we never will be, but I’ll tear out the throats of anyone who comes close enough to touch him.
I don’t plan to tell him about it, but he’s in my blood circle. If he dies, my dietary restrictions go from frustrating to dire.
Luca crawls up the slight rise in the ground. Everyone fans out on either side of him, and I get my first look at what passes for civilization here.
It’s primitive. Smoke-blackened log cabins are configured in a loose circle. But they aren’t normal cabins. They’re elevated, hovering some twenty feet off the ground, each one held in place by a single spiked stilt.
Weird. Smoke curls up from the cabins, although there aren’t any visible chimneys. It rises hundreds of feet into the air, eventually disappearing among the floating junk.
While the cabins are strange, they’re of little interest to me. I’m far more concerned with their potential inhabitants than any questionable architectural choices.
Beyond the nearest cluster of cabins, there are dozens more. And further back, looming ominously over everything, there’s a massive structure. Round and imposing, it’s enormous, domed, and worryingly reminiscent of an ancient coliseum.
I don’t like the look of it.
Luca points to the center of the nearest bunch of cabins, and I spot two guards standing in front of a warped glimmer. It’s barely visible against the dull backdrop, but my heart jumps to my throat, anyway. The portal.
A flicker of annoyance runs through me. The guards look cold, bored, and painfully normal.
Sure, they’re wearing cloaks designed to hide them, but I should have noticed them sooner.
White, brown, and mottled to match our surroundings, each cloak hangs to the ground, where it blends in perfectly with the bleak vista.
With Ciprian’s magic hiding us, we could theoretically sneak right past them.
A glance at the sky tells me the midday eclipse isn’t far away. A sliver of the neighboring shifter realm has already blotted out the edge of the sun.
Luca holds up two fingers.
I decide that means two minutes and brace myself.
Exactly sixty-seven seconds later, the guard on the left stretches and looks around. His eyes pan over our hiding spot, and we go impossibly still. No one moves until he turns his head.
He says something to the other guard, glances at the darkening sky, then chafes his hands against his upper arms and heads for the nearest cabin.
He taps on the large central column—nearly the size of a redwood tree—and dozens of metal spikes shoot out.
Using them like a ladder, he climbs to the narrow, wraparound porch and disappears inside.
The second guard follows him up.
My neck prickles uncomfortably, but I ignore it. We’re close. This is it.
Luca points at the portal.
And we take off.
Then the temperature drops. Violently. My body wants to crack open from the pressure, and each step becomes difficult.
Sharp, stabbing pains rack my chest.
Gods, the very air in my lungs is freezing.
I keep moving.
Ciprian slows. It’s hard to see him clearly now, but his face is pink, his pale eyelashes frozen into tiny spikes around his piercing black eyes.
I wrap my arm around his waist and urge him forward. We’re only forty feet from the portal. Gods, I won’t leave him behind, even if I should. I can’t do it.
Luca and Malach reach the edge of the shimmering portal.
Celine doubles back for us, her red hair as dark as dried blood in the failing light. She grabs Ciprian’s hand and tugs.
Fifteen feet to go.
Blinding pain stabs my temple. I squint sluggishly at the ground, having a hard time making out the shape of my own boots as darkness erases the contrast of the leather against the gray sludge.
I slip and crash to my knees.
The jolt is hard—I did nothing to break my fall, so it must be—but I barely feel it.
Hands curl around my hips and haul me upright. Red flashes in front of my eyes. Celine’s hair? Why can’t I focus?
Blistering heat warms my face and melts my thoughts.
Celine’s flaming wings illuminate Ciprian’s sharp cheekbones. His eyelashes flutter as they defrost, and orange streaks of light dance across his hair.
Celine has one arm wrapped around each of us. Her breathing is labored, and I beg my legs to do something. Anything to help her.
My feet scramble uselessly against the ground, puppet legs skimming across a stage.
I curse them for failing me and lean closer to her flames.
Celine is being careful to keep her wings outstretched.
They’re close enough to keep our blood from freezing in our veins, but not close enough to melt the skin from our bones.
The ground shakes beneath my feet, or am I imagining it? I can’t tell anymore. Helpless rage rolls through me. The shaking ground doesn’t matter. We’ve got to leave or we’re going to die here.
Face ashen with fear, Celine takes slow, deliberate steps. The wind whips her flames dangerously close to my sleeve. Luca grabs me. Malach hoists Ciprian over his shoulder, and together we walk the final steps to the portal.
And then it vanishes.
A creature bellows.
Monstrous, too loud to fathom.
I blink, and horror steals my remaining sliver of optimism as Celine’s wings illuminate a pair of armored legs. Greenish tiles—overlapping, knobby, and scarred—make up the beast’s skin. I tilt my head up, and shock replaces my fear as I take in the monster.
Standing upright on trunk-like legs, it’s at least thirty-feet tall. Its snout and jaws are reminiscent of a prehistoric breed of alligator. Red-eyed, with three toes on each foot, it’s blocking our way to the portal.
On top of the monster, mounted behind its thick neck, a masked figure stares down at us, their mottled cloak billowing in the wind.
Celine’s flames sputter out, and the feathers turn to blades.
“No, fuck, shit—not now!” She screams with anger as the temperature around us drops. The feather-shaped knives are molten, like they came out of a forge seconds ago. They glow in the dark, but they don’t give off the same heat as her flames.
Stretched across Malach’s broad shoulders, Ciprian’s eyes are closed. I cup his face and slap him awake. “C-c-can you scare it away?” I ask.
A drop of blood drips from his nose. It freezes before it reaches his upper lip.
I could identify Ciprian Casanell’s blood while blindfolded in a room full of decoys, but the cold is so severe, I can’t even smell it. It scares me. He slumps against Malach, his eyes rolling back in his head as he passes out. That scares me more.
Roaring with fury, Celine advances on the horrifying reptile, her wings flapping wildly as she attempts to take off. She makes it two feet off the ground, then falls. She tries again. Another fall.
“H-help h-her,” I beg Luca, shoving him away from me with stiff, clumsy hands.
He stares at me for one heartbreaking second, then pivots.
A second later, Luca is gone, replaced by the basilisk.
It lifts yellow eyes to meet the monster’s red ones.
My heart stutters in my chest as the beast looks away, avoiding Luca’s death stare as if it was expecting it.
My hope turns to ash, blown away by the gusting wind. The monster must be sentient, and it’s clearly seen or fought a basilisk before.
Malach drops Ciprian in my arms and yanks a small blade from his backpack. “Stay as warm as you can,” he shouts. “The eclipse will pass soon.” With his breath forming a cloud around his face, he charges the beast, hacking at its foot and severing one of its toes.
It roars, yanking its leg back as bright red blood splashes the ground. Gods above. Move. I try to shout. To warn Malach. But he doesn’t have time to get out of the way.
The monster drives its leg into him with an almighty crack and sends him flying. He lands, skidding several feet before he stops moving. He doesn’t get back up.
Celine watches, her face flushed with rage, and gives up trying to take off with the weight of her blade wings. Instead, she charges the monster. Groaning and staring at its mangled foot, it pays her no attention until she collides with its other leg and starts to climb.
There are no handholds, nothing to grab on to at all, but Celine is vicious and resourceful.
She uses the tips of her wings as grappling hooks, stabbing them into the thick, leathery hide repeatedly.
Blood splatters from each entry wound, soaking the tips of her wings and dripping down the monster’s bumpy legs. Gods above and below, it’s working.
She narrowly avoids the mouth full of razor-sharp teeth and reaches the top, swinging herself up to challenge the cloaked rider.
Yes, angel. You can do this! I curl around Ciprian, trying to block the worst of the wind from reaching him. Black spots dot my vision. There are shadows everywhere, and I’m not sure if they’re real or if I’m imagining them.
Luca coils his body around the monster’s legs and squeezes.
It stumbles.
Luca hisses in pain.
And two shadowy figures hurtle from the monster’s back.