Chapter 27
27
ROOK
R ook’s breaths were shallow as he shuffled blindly down the path. Anxiety wormed its way into his thundering heart, and he fought to keep calm. If Sloane spoke true of the challenge, he needed to keep his breathing under control while he still could. With every step forward, he felt the small vial tucked safely in his tunic. Even with the potion, he needed to maintain some semblance of composure. He wouldn’t last long if he panicked.
The underguards had come to collect them for their mysterious water trial a day after Sloane’s secret visit. Only twenty-four hours had passed since the last trial, so it seemed Grivur was indeed keeping his charade of a Tournament as close to the original as possible. Staying in tradition with three trials over the course of three days meant the third one would occur tomorrow. They were so close to escape that Rook could almost taste it. But he had to keep his wits about him for this game. Anything could happen between now and the final trial.
Rook had tried his best to sleep, but the fear of another unwelcome vision and Grivur’s next game had prevented him from truly resting. Now, as a spear tip was pressed to his spine, he felt his sleep deprivation keenly. With his pounding head and weary muscles distracting him, he could barely register their surroundings.
Stay focused, Rook. You can do this.
Abruptly, the underguards halted and Rook nearly lost his balance. The metallic rattle of chains in his ears made his head throb.
“We’ve arrived,” Sloane called from up ahead. “You may remove their hoods.”
Rook braced himself for an abrupt change in light, but the shadows that enveloped them were not much different from the black hoods keeping them in the dark. They stood in a damp grotto illuminated by wavering torchlight. Large rock formations dripped from the ceiling, some of them hanging so low they nearly touched the pool of cloudy water swallowing up half the chamber. The water was tinged green as the torchlight caught on the bioluminescent algae glowing on the cave walls. Aside from a few crawlspaces Rook wouldn’t be able to fit into, the only exit was the tunnel they’d just been led down. His heart raced even faster as he scanned the low-hanging ceiling and seemingly bottomless pool at the center of the cavern. What would they be forced to do here?
“Welcome tributes!” Grivur came up behind them from the entrance tunnel, his signature crimson robes trailing over the uneven cave floor. A delusional grin split his milk-pale face as the torchlight passed over him. “I hope you got some rest before the second trial; you’re going to need your strength for what is next!”
He clapped gleefully, rings glinting in the flickering light. He placed a hand on Sloane’s shoulder and she visibly flinched. She stared blankly ahead, her back as rigid as steel as he dug his fingers into her velvet-clad arm.
“Thank you so much for bringing our tributes here, daughter. You’ve been an excellent Tournament Ambassador. It seems you’re the only one I can trust in these dark days.” Perhaps it was only because he knew that Sloane was scheming against her father, but Rook could’ve sworn Grivur’s praise sounded more like a threat than thanks.
“Of course, father,” she answered, her empty eyes still staring straight ahead. A corner of her painted lips twitched almost imperceptibly, the only indication her emotionless display was artificial.
“And I must thank our Master of Trials as well,” Grivur chuckled, turning his attention toward Tezrus, who once again donned the purple Elder’s robe. “Your presence has been most helpful in replicating the Tournament.” Tezrus’s eyes were wide with terror as Grivur clapped a hand on his back, his frail shoulders shaking under the thick robe. “Would you like to instruct our tributes with the following guidelines?” He shoved a piece of parchment into Tezrus’s trembling hands and grinned when the old man shuddered. It wasn’t a question.
The Scholar held out the paper and squinted as it quivered between his fingers. He went pale as his eyes skimmed over the instructions. His mouth opened and closed like a gaping fish.
“Go on then,” Grivur barked. “We don’t have all day.”
“Welcome, honored tributes,” Tezrus recited thinly. “You are now ready to compete in the second trial of the Tournament.” It was the same opening Korina had greeted them with during the second trial under the Stone Circle. Gooseflesh prickled on Rook’s neck as he thought about how much had changed since that time in the caves with Eros and Veila.
“You are tasked with navigating the flooded tunnels of this grotto in groups of two. The walls are marked with checkpoints so you may find your way out. You must make it out of the course within three hours.” With each line he read, Tezrus’s voice grew more feeble. “Your teammates have already been chosen for you. Hasana will be paired with Neia. Saoirse will be paired with Rook. May glory be given.”
Rook’s gaze darted to Saoirse. Relief wasn’t exactly the word to describe how he felt about being paired with her. Selfishly, he was pleased the two of them would work together. However, Neia was native to the Under Kingdom and would likely be able to navigate through the tunnels with relative ease. Saoirse, on the other hand, could breathe underwater and was undoubtedly a strong swimmer. No matter who he was paired with, he would be deadweight and useless. He might end up being Saoirse’s downfall.
“There you have it,” Grivur cut in. “The terms of the second trial have been laid out for you. Please unlock their shackles,” he ordered the underguards. “You’ll have enough difficulty as it is. We don’t want to sentence you to death with those chains weighing you down, now do we? We want this to be entertaining after all!”
“How merciful ,” Neia grumbled under her breath.
“What was that?” Grivur snarled.
“Nothing,” she mumbled as the underguards moved to unlock their handcuffs. Grivur gave his former commander a withering look.
Rook flexed his wrists when the metal shackles had been removed. It was a small relief to be freed from the stifling chains, but terror still pounded through his blood. He made his way over to Saoirse, who was standing at the edge of the pool peering down. He followed her eyes into the depths of the reservoir. It was difficult to make anything out in the cloudy, green-hued water, but he could tell the pool extended deep into the earth. His stomach churned at the thought of diving blindly down into a bottomless pit.
“Don’t drink the potion yet,” Saoirse whispered. “You can’t let Grivur see you with it.”
Rook nodded, resisting the urge to clench the vial for reassurance. Hasana and Neia looked over at them from where they stood a few paces away.
“We can do this,” Hasana said. “Stay alive.”
And suddenly, hands shoved Rook from behind. Before he could process what was happening, he found himself with a mouthful of silty water. He surfaced and choked on the water, blinking up at where Neia and Hasana still stood on the edge of the pool. Saoirse’s head popped out of the water next to him, tendrils of soaked hair plastered to her neck. He could feel her fingers twine with his under the surface of the pool.
“You’ll go first,” Grivur barked. “Once you’ve gone ahead, Neia and Hasana will start. Don’t even think about trying to wait for them to find you. The tunnels will periodically shift and change as Larkin wills, so no path will be the same. Best get a head start.”
Rook treaded water for a moment, his boots and clothing already soaked through. He looked down at the descending pit below him. Where were they supposed to go?
“There must be tunnels along the submerged walls,” Saoirse guessed. “We can dive down and find an aperture. Once we are out of sight, you can drink the potion.”
“You two need to go before I have them spear you,” Grivur hissed. On cue, the underguards leveled their obsidian spears at them, lethally sharp points poised just above their heads in the water. “I won’t hesitate to kill you both if you don’t get moving. It’ll be just like harpooning cavefish.”
“Let’s go,” Saoirse ordered, diving below the water. Rook gulped in lungfuls of air before following her. His eyes burned as he kicked downward, his gaze distorted as he tried to see through the cloudy depths. Saoirse kept her hand locked around his and led him down the wall of the drowned pit. Already, his lungs felt like they were going to explode. Bubbles leaked out from between his lips involuntarily. He was losing oxygen much faster than he’d intended.
Saoirse pointed at a hole in the wall, her pale blue eyes glowing in the murky water. Her dark hair plumed around her, rising over her shoulders like a billowing cloak. The scales on her cheekbones and hands seemed more lustrous in the water. If he hadn’t been terrified of drowning, Rook might’ve been struck by the ease with which she swam, but he was much too preoccupied with controlling the stream of bubbles leaking from his nose and mouth to fully appreciate her athleticism.
Saoirse dove for the small opening, dragging him along behind her. The crevice was double the size of his shoulders, so he had plenty of room to slip into the tunnel. But even with a wide berth, claustrophobia immediately seized his heart as he swam into the small corridor. His lungs had now reached their limits and burned from lack of oxygen. His vision went in and out, black dots sputtering in the corners of his eyes. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could hold on.
Just when he nearly gave up and let in a lungful of water, Rook found himself rising upward through a vertical shaft. His body was weightless as the two of them vaulted upward, Saoirse’s legs kicking just above his head. And suddenly, he broke the surface of the water. He gasped as air filled his aching lungs like a soothing balm. Delicious, vital air. He was certain he’d almost lost consciousness in the shaft.
When he finally stopped coughing, he looked around at their surroundings. More bioluminescent algae coated the walls, casting an ethereal glow throughout the small chamber. The tunnel opened into a small, relatively dry cavern. Saoirse pulled herself over the lip of the hole and helped him out. He laid back against the slick rocks and inhaled over and over again, the burning in his chest gradually subsiding and the dots in his vision fading.
“Are you okay?” Saoirse leaned over him, her dark hair gilded in soft glowing light. Trickles of water trailed down her face and dripped onto his forehead. So beautiful.
“Yes,” he rasped. He pulled out the vial Sloane had given him. The moss-green liquid sloshed as he held it up to the light. “How long do you think this will last?”
“I’m not sure. Sloane didn’t share how long a single dose would allow you to hold your breath for. We’d better save it until the situation is dire enough.”
“I?what are you doing?”
Much to Rook’s utter bafflement, Saoirse had begun peeling off her soaked clothing. She tore her tunic over her head and let it fall in a sodden heap on the stone floor. Her arms were completely bare, a dusting of translucent scales shimmering on her shoulders and down her arms. She wore a thin shift underneath her tunic, but the soaked fabric left little to the imagination. His cheeks flushed and he averted his eyes respectfully.
“I know we’ve just reunited and reconciled, but I really don’t think now is the time, Princess.”
He could feel a self-satisfied smile tug at his lips when she laughed. That delightful sound sent a thrill down his spine. He’d missed that sound terribly. Despite everything?despite the sheer madness of their situation?he felt that old intoxicating spark between them. It had been a long time since he’d let himself make a joke, but with her, he felt lighter. More like himself.
“That’s not what I’m doing. You felt how difficult it is to swim with all these layers. They’ll weigh us down.” She began unlacing her boots. “We’re temporarily dry now, but I don’t doubt we’ll encounter more flooded chambers along the way. You should take some things off as well. Your wings will already burden you enough.”
She was right. His wings were drenched, every downy feather sopping wet. The weight of his wings dragging through the water was a considerable hindrance on its own, and several layers of clothing only made it worse. He started taking off his shirt but then hesitated. “Don’t be afraid of what you see,” he warned. “The wound has progressed, but I promise it looks a lot worse than it really is. Hasana took away much of the pain yesterday.”
Saoirse nodded, bright concern gleaming in her eyes as he slid the soaking tunic over his head. She tried to hide her horror, but he caught her expression before she could conceal it. Her eyes passed over the darkened veins that splintered across his chest and a muscle in her jaw ticked.
“I’ll kill Selussa for what she’s done to you,” she gritted out, bright anger burning away the concern in her eyes.
“I’ll be all right.”
“As long as you’re not in too much pain,” she finally said. “We’ll find a way to heal you, Rook. I swear it.”
Rook grasped her hand. “I know.”
Suddenly, all the words that they hadn’t been able to share welled up between them like a fog, a vapor clinging to every inch of their hearts. Every single moment they wasted here counted against their allotted three hours, but Rook couldn’t continue without confessing everything he felt.
“Saoirse, I’m so sorry for the way I treated you in Bezhad. I blamed you for what happened and it wasn’t fair. It was easier to direct my anger and hurt at you than at my sister and friends. And that was so, so cowardly of me. You didn’t deserve that.”
His fingers found her face. Droplets of water clung to her damp skin. The blue-tinged scales on her cheeks shimmered like stardust under the bioluminescent algae. She stared back at him wordlessly, her luminous eyes swimming with unnamed emotion.
Once he’d begun confessing the truth to her, the words tumbled out of him like stones along the mountainside; he couldn’t stop them even if he wanted to. “Even more than that, I was terrified of trusting my heart to another after Eros, Veila, and Raven betrayed me.” Tears pricked at his eyes as a wave of fresh hurt washed over him at the thought of their lies. “And?” he faltered momentarily, thinking of the panic attacks and the unrelenting dreams that wore him down day after day. “I’m broken. I’m so broken, Saoirse.” His voice cracked under the weight of thick emotion. “I’m so scared of letting myself love you. I don’t want to lose you the way I’ve lost everyone I’ve ever loved. Something happened to me after everything in Coarinth. A dam collapsed in my heart and unleashed something within me. I’m sometimes seized with fear that takes hold of my body and doesn’t let go.” His palms tightened gently on her face, as though she might disappear if he wasn’t careful. “It feels like I can’t breathe sometimes. I think the pain that I’ve been running from?the trauma of my parent’s deaths, Raven’s coldness, your bargain with Selussa?it all caught up with me when I was healing in Bezhad. Something shattered in me when the world came crashing down.
“But…I think it was needed. It was the push I required to confront the emotions I’ve kept banished in the depths of my soul. I think a piece of me died when my sister turned her back on me. She was the last brick in the dam that held back all the things I’d locked away. I relied on her for everything. She taught me how to be strong to a fault. I leaned on her to tell me what to think and believe instead of processing my pain and becoming my own person.” Tears burned down his cheeks, scorching trails across his face. Saoirse wrapped her hands around his wrists and squeezed reassuringly.
“None of this excuses my actions. It doesn’t justify how I treated you. But I want you to know why I said the things I did, why I held you at arm’s length. Because you deserve to know. And?” he trailed off. His heart was beating even faster than it had when they’d been led into the grotto. “And I want you to know so that we can build back trust. A piece of me died with Raven’s betrayal, but a different piece was added to my heart when I met you. If you want to…perhaps we can heal together?”
His words echoed through the chamber. He’d just laid his soul bare for her, peeled back the layers of his heart just like he’d peeled off the sodden clothes that lay next to them in a puddle. He shivered at her feet, nearly naked and vulnerable as a spring foal. He’d never been good at admitting when he was wrong. History told him Aurans were incapable of taking ownership of their mistakes at all. It felt like he’d been reborn in a blaze of fire after admitting he’d been wrong. He didn’t want Saoirse’s pity. He didn’t disclose his pain because he wanted to make her feel sorry for him. No, his honesty was needed so they could repair the bridges that had been burned between them, bridges he had selfishly torn down in a twisted sense of self-preservation. The need to be truthful with her felt as necessary as breathing.
For a moment, it seemed like Saoirse might say nothing and his heart skipped a beat. He wouldn’t blame her if she closed the door of their budding relationship and moved on. He’d been stubborn, selfish, and cruel. She’d have every right to turn him down. Instead, she pressed her lips to his. They both shivered now, their mouths cold and wet against each other. But somehow, her kiss warmed every inch of his body and seared away any lingering doubt.
She pulled back, tears glistening in her own eyes. “Yes. I would like that. We’ve both done things we’re not proud of. Hel, the whole reason we’re here in the Under Kingdom is because of my mistake. If it wasn’t for my senseless bargain with Selussa, we wouldn’t be in this mess to start with. I would never judge you for your pain nor your broken pieces, Rook. They don’t frighten me.”
She swiped a damp strand of hair from his forehead. Her fingers arced down his cheek, slipping over his damp skin to settle along his jaw. “But you’re not broken. Shards of fear may cut you, and facing your pain might be more terrifying than anything we faced in the Stone Circle, but these things don’t make you weak. Just because your heart is hurting doesn’t mean you’re broken. It just means you’re alive . We can face whatever comes next. Together.”
Rook’s heart fluttered in his chest as she wrapped her arms around his neck, tucking her head in the crook of his shoulder. Her hair was soaked under his chin, but he didn’t mind. His tears ceased, leaving the taste of salt on his lips. Rook wanted to stay like this forever, trembling in this strange cavern miles below the earth with her, bare skin touching without any secrets between them.
“I don’t think I was ever truly alive until I met you,” he whispered against her hair. She could’ve told him to dive back into the submerged tunnel and he’d have done it. He would do anything she asked, he realized. From now until eternity. She held his shattered heart in her hands and he wouldn’t want it any other way. Saoirse Kellamheart was the best thing to ever happen to him, even if he’d been too foolish to see it until now.
“Hel’s teeth,” Saoirse broke their embrace and jumped to her feet. Rook looked down, noticing for the first time that the water from the vertical shaft had risen over the edge and spilled into the chamber. The bottom of his leathers was already soaked through. The water was rising fast, rushing into the cavern with unnatural speed. Grivur and Larken must’ve been manipulating the water flow somehow.
“We need to get out of here,” Saoirse said, scanning the cave walls for an exit. “This will be flooded in a matter of minutes.” Already, the murky water was seeping up their calves.
Any fledgling elation at having kissed Saoirse vanished as the water rose to their knees. Rook’s chest constricted with sudden panic, and he cast his gaze about the room frantically. There weren’t any easily accessible exits aside from a few shoulder-width crawl spaces. He grew nauseous at the mere thought of cramming himself within one of those tight channels, crawling on his stomach like a Wyrm.
“Over there!” Saoirse grabbed his hand and pulled him through the small cave, splashing through the waves that now swelled up to their waists. The sloshing water was cold, making Rook’s already-clammy skin feel like ice as it lapped up his stomach. Saoirse led them to a submerged hole gouged into the cavern wall.
“I’ll see if it exits out somewhere. Drink your potion now. I’m not sure when we’ll have access to more air. You’re going to need to hold your breath.”
Rook nodded as the chilled water inched up his ribs. His flesh went numb, but whether it was from the cold or from the terror of not knowing where the tunnel would lead them, he couldn’t say. Saoirse ducked her head under the water and swam into the flooded tunnel, her paddling feet vanishing into the darkness in a spray of bubbles.
Rook uncorked Sloane’s vial and swallowed the elixir. He’d expected to feel differently after he drank it?like he might sense his lungs expand or his airway close around what little oxygen he already held within himself?but nothing unusual happened. Perhaps the numbness of his body flushed out any other sensations. He prayed to the stars Sloane’s potion really worked.
Rook stood anxiously in the flooding chamber, trying not to panic as the water climbed up his naked shoulders and swept over his wings. He watched the tunnel opening, willing Saoirse to return. The water rippled over his clavicles and the hollow of his throat.
After what seemed like an eternity, Saoirse finally emerged from the aperture. When she surfaced, Saoirse swam over and treaded water in front of him. If she placed her feet on the ground, the water would now be well above her head.
“Tell me some good news, Princess,” Rook hissed as the water sloshed along the edge of his jaw and crawled up the nape of his neck.
“The passageway leads into another connected chamber. I found one of Grivur’s markers, so we’re heading in the right direction. But the next cavern is completely submerged in water. You’ll need to hold your breath until we can find another dry chamber. I think we can find a pocket of air somewhere.” Rook’s nerves lurched with fear, but he continued sucking in lungfuls of air.
He could do this. He had to do this.
“And it’s completely dark,” Saoirse continued. “There isn’t any glowing algae along the tunnel walls, so we’ll be swimming blind.”
She swam over to a slick wall and began scraping the bioluminescent sludge off with her fingers. The glowing algae looked like iridescent paint in her palms. She began wiping the substance on her cheeks, neck, and arms. Her body began to emanate a soft light. She raked her fingers across the wall again and brought a handful of the filmy paint over to Rook. She smeared the luminous slime over his face and neck, down his chest and arms.
Despite his fear, Rook couldn’t stop the joke that bubbled up in his throat: “When I imagined your hands all over me when we finally reunited, this wasn’t exactly what I had in mind.”
She smirked. “You imagined my hands all over you, hm? Even when you were angry at me?” she asked innocently. Her expression turned serious as she observed her handiwork. “This will at least allow us to see the other in the darkness. Are you ready?” The water was nearly level with his lips. It tasted like minerals and mold.
“No, but we need to go whether I’m ready or not.” He grabbed her hand and drank in one last swig of air, filling his lungs to capacity. He kissed her briefly. And then suddenly, they were both underwater. Saoirse slipped into the hole in the wall, and he followed her, blood pounding in his ears.
The channel was extremely narrow. He tried to tuck his wings against his back as much as possible, but they still grazed the rough walls. Though claustrophobia threatened to overtake him, his lungs weren’t straining to hold in the air like they initially did when they dove down to the first shaft. It seemed Sloane’s potion really did work after all. While he wasn’t exactly comfortable holding his breath, he didn’t have the incessant urge to inhale or soothe his burning lungs. Not yet at least.
True to Saoirse’s words, the cramped passageway was completely dark. The faint glow emanating from his own algae-coated skin illuminated the jagged walls of the shaft. His eyes burned as they continued swimming through the tunnel. Minerals and flecks of silt floated through the water and caught like dust motes in sunlight as their bioluminescent paint lit the passage. He kept his focus on Saoirse as she swam lithely in front of him. She moved fluidly with her legs tapered together at the ankles, every movement wave-like and smooth.
The last time Rook had been in the water with her, he’d just fallen from the sky bridge and was plummeting over a waterfall. He’d been unconscious the whole time, so he hadn’t gotten to see her in action. As they continued swimming down the shaft, Rook saw Saoirse in her element for the first time. She was truly at home in the water. Whether in a flooded tunnel network or in the ocean, she moved effortlessly. She was one with the water the way Rook was with the sky. His eyes traced over her graceful legs and settled on her feet. Her feet .
She’d abandoned her boots back in the first chamber, leaving her feet bare. Scars twined up her ankles and calves, eating away at the delicate scales that dusted her skin. The rigid indentions almost looked like burns, the knots of scar tissue similar to those on Raven’s hands. What had happened to her? Anger suddenly bubbled up in his chest as he took in the twisting scars. The thought of her receiving any kind of injury sent his blood boiling, but those lacerations looked particularly painful. He would ask her about them when he had the chance.
The narrow shaft suddenly ended, opening into a large cavern that dwarfed the first one they’d found. Just as Saoirse had said, the chamber was completely flooded and pitch black. The meager light from their algae-slick skin only reached a few feet in front of them, leaving a sea of darkness to swallow them whole. Glittering stalactites and stalagmites emerged from the shadows as their dim light passed by, jutting from the ceiling and floor like teeth.
Saoirse pointed at one of the mineral formations as they swam across the cavern. A small metal plate was embedded into the stalactite, depicting a torch with a plume of flame. It must be one of the markers indicating they were going in the right direction.
Saoirse spun to face him, eyes flashing in the darkness. She pointed to his ribs questioningly. “How are your lungs?” she asked in a warped voice.
Rook almost opened his mouth to answer, but then he remembered that he was still supposed to be holding his breath. Sloane’s potion worked so well that he’d forgotten that he hadn’t taken another breath in nearly seven minutes. Instead, he nodded and gestured at his nose.
Good , he mouthed without inhaling. A few bubbles escaped from his lips. Even though he wasn’t struggling now, he had no way of telling when the potion would wear off. It could happen at any time.
A sense of urgency draped over them as they continued swimming through the vast chamber. How many more interconnected caves would they need to traverse before they found their way out of the labyrinth of submerged tunnels? Were Hasana and Neia faring better than them, or Titans-forbid, had they drowned?
No, don’t think of that now , he scolded himself. Just focus on getting out of here.
As they neared the end of the cavern, the ceiling sloped downward and tapered into a hole that presumably tunneled into another connected cave. Until this point, there hadn’t been much of a current carrying them through the chamber, but the water suddenly pulled Rook forward as they neared the end. The water seemed to be spurred on by the slanted walls, forming a funnel-like corridor that sucked them into the aperture. Rook tried not to panic as the current seized him, his body pushed forward with increasing momentum. A torrent of bubbles rippled out from the tunnel entrance as the water surged into the passageway, stirring up clouds of silt that almost blinded Rook. The rotating current spiraled like water down a drain.
Saoirse twisted against the rushing water and grabbed his hand. “Stay calm,” she told him as the current swept them closer and closer to the hole. He could barely see her through the silt, but her muted voice warbled through the water like a siren’s call. “I’ll protect you. Let the water carry you. If a current has formed, there must be a dry cavern up ahead, or at least a fissure creating an air pocket. We’ll be out of here in no time.”
Rook nodded, though he wasn’t sure Saoirse could see him amid the swirling bubbles. Her hand clamped around his, her fingers squeezing reassuringly. The pressure of her warm palm told him she would make good on her promise to protect him. He had to trust her.
Rook’s body had been weightless in the water before, but as the current sucked them in, he felt impossibly helpless. They were pulled into the passageway like dead leaves through a sinkhole. He fought the strong urge to kick away and flail his limbs. He felt the instinctual need to scramble out of the tight channel as sharply as a blade at his back, everything in him screaming to gain control of the situation. But he resisted and focused on keeping his body still as Saoirse had instructed, letting the water pull him along. He hadn’t taken a breath in fifteen minutes now, but he could feel a burning sensation start to spark against his ribs. He didn’t have much air left.
As the water spun them around like soiled clothing tumbling through a wash basin, Rook was thrown against the passage walls, his bare skin and wings scraping along the stone. Each time he slammed against the wall, he thought the air might be knocked out of him. It took every ounce of focus and self-control not to open his mouth and gasp in pain. They tumbled through the darkness for what seemed like years.
The violent pull of the current pushed him against the tunnel wall once more. But this time, instead of making contact with jagged stone, Rook felt himself slip into another shaft. Saoirse’s fingers vanished. He was being lifted up through a tunnel.
Saoirse! He wanted to scream, but his tingling lungs would be done if he opened his mouth. The passageway must’ve split them apart, Saoirse being dragged down to wherever the tunnel led and Rook being forced up this fissure in the stone. Panic sliced down the center of his body as the water pushed him up like a geyser.
And suddenly, he was at the end of the small cavity. His head emerged from the water, meeting the damp air. Against his will, he opened his mouth and gasped for air, the instinct to breathe overcoming everything else. His lungs burned as he sucked in oxygen.
Once his eyes became focused again and the splotches of black dotting his vision cleared, he took in the tiny pocket of stone he found himself in. Only about two feet of the crevice was unsubmerged. He treaded water and kept his head above the swelling pool, but the water continued to rise, gurgling up the shaft threateningly. It would flood the small space in a matter of minutes.
Rook cursed, bracing his arms against the close walls of the cavity. Even without the rising water, the cramped space was extremely claustrophobic. He would need to dive back down the shaft to the original passageway, but he had no idea when or if there would be more air waiting for him at the end of the tunnel. Maybe this was it. He guessed the last dregs of Sloane’s potion still lingered in his system and he still had the ability to hold his breath longer than normal, but at some point, the elixir would wear off.
The water clawed up his jaw. The sound of his ragged breathing echoed off the damp walls and pounded back in his ears. He wriggled higher up the shaft, pressing his cheek against the last scrap of dry stone as the water seeped up to his ears. His lips pressed against the wet rock. There was now only a foot of dry air left. Rook drank in oxygen and prepared to dive back down.
Suddenly, the water swelled even higher as a new body filled the tight space.
“Rook!” Saoirse gasped when she shimmied up next to him, sloshing water across his face as she sprang up. Their faces were almost pressed together in the shallow pocket. Their smeared streaks of algae paint had almost washed away, but the faint glow still brightened up the fissure.
“Thank the stars you’re alive.” She evaluated him as the water bubbled up even higher, halving the foot of dry air until there were mere inches between the tide and the ceiling.
“Barely,” Rook coughed, squishing his face against the wall even harder.
“We need to go back into the first tunnel. I saw the way out right as you were carried up this shaft. But you’ll need to hold your breath for about six minutes before we reach the end. Can you do that?”
“I don’t know. The effects of Sloane’s potion are almost gone.”
Saoirse pursed her lips. “ Titansblood allows me to breathe underwater and on land. I can share oxygen with you if you run out before the end. Are you ready?”
Rook nodded wearily and filled his lungs once more, already dreading the fast-paced current of the first passageway. Saoirse followed his lead, inhaling the last dregs of air as the water closed the gap and met the ceiling, fully submerging them. She dove down the shaft, Rook at her heels. Already, his lungs strained as they swam back down to the original tunnel. He wouldn’t be able to hold his breath for long.
His numb body was yanked through the fissure’s opening and swept away. Just like before, Saoirse kept her hand clenched around his as they were thrown helplessly against the walls. The spiraling water made Rook’s head spin. He squinted through the silt and bubbles, feeling a wash of relief at the sight of the metal plate looming at the end of the tunnel. They were heading in the right direction, then.
His lungs ached as they drifted closer to the tunnel’s exit. Threads of unconsciousness began to stitch along the perimeter of his inconsistent vision. Breathe, his body screamed at him. Breathe! Titans, he wanted to. His body began to spasm and jerk as he fought to keep from inhaling.
Saoirse grabbed a hold of him and pressed her lips to his, sealing their mouths together. She clamped her fingers over his nose and forced air into his mouth. It wasn’t much, but it was something. He took her offering but felt only minimally relieved with her lungful of recycled air.
“Almost there!” came her water-warped voice when she pulled away.
As they tumbled head over heels, Rook’s sense of time and reality bubbled and retreated like the tide. He couldn’t think straight, couldn’t focus on anything other than holding his breath. In between bouts of awareness, he saw cavern walls that looked vaguely familiar. He blinked rapidly, trying to discern if he’d lost consciousness and woken up in one of his dreams, or if he was simply hallucinating.
Abruptly, they were dumped out of the tunnel and deposited in yet another cavern. The water rushed over them, spilling into a dry cave. Rook choked and sputtered as they washed up onto a sediment embankment. He felt like a fish flopping on a dock, rolling waves of water lashing over the side of a sunbaked gangplank. The water must be draining out somewhere, for it didn’t flood the chamber or rise. In fact, the puddle seemed to retreat.
Saoirse leaned over him, pushing tendrils of soaked hair from his face. “You’re safe now,” she whispered. “You can breathe.”
Rook closed his eyes and drank in the moist air. His head pounded like a blacksmith’s anvil. He waited for the world to stop spinning before he cracked open his bleary eyes. His eyebrows knit together with confusion as he stared up at the low cavern ceiling. Recognition sparked at the back of his mind.
Damn, he had slipped back into another dream after all. He’d replayed this dream so many times over the last week, pondering the memory of the prisoner locked behind iron bars in a cave. Please, let me out , called the dream-woman’s voice in his head. Rook rubbed his eyes and tried pulling himself out of the vision, his skin crawling as the sound of dripping water filled his ears. A dream had never felt this immersive and visceral before.
“Saoirse, can you hear me? Are you there? Wake me up from this dream!”
“Rook, I’m right here.” Saoirse placed her hands on his face, a crease forming between her eyebrows as she stared at him with concern. “What’s wrong?”
Rook forced himself to sit up, taking in the sight of the familiar cave walls and the smell of tepid water and mildew. The dream was burned into his memory just like every other one he’d experienced. Every sensation, smell, and sound had been scored against his own personal history. Surely, he wouldn’t be misremembering this .
He vaulted into realization, understanding crashing into him like a physical blow. This was real . He had dreamed of this place and now…they were really here. He grabbed Saoirse’s hand to ground himself. The feel of her slick skin and warmth anchored him in the present.
“Sorry, I thought I was dreaming for a moment,” he breathed. His eyes traced down the corridor, skipping over the mounds of stalactites identical to the ones in his dream. The passageway darkened as it curled beyond his sight. Was the mysterious female prisoner locked away at the end of the tunnel, or had he glimpsed a moment from long ago? He’d witnessed scenes that took place hundreds and thousands of years ago, after all. Where did that woman’s imprisonment fall on the timeline of history?
On shaking legs, he rose from the ground, leaning heavily on Saoirse. Rivulets of water trickled down his chilled flesh. He looked down at his body and winced. Fresh purple bruises and ugly red cuts danced along his already-infected skin, evidence of the harsh thrashing he’d endured in the swirling tunnel.
He turned his attention back to the coiling passageway, heart hammering in his throat. For the first time since he’d begun having the nightmares, he’d have a true opportunity to validate his dreams and weigh them against reality. He could verify his dream about the night his parents were killed, but that could’ve just been the product of years of rumination and regret. The dream about the female prisoner was not from his memory. If a cell lay at the end of this passageway, he would know the vision was real.
“Are you able to walk?” Saoirse asked from his side. She looked up at him, the smeared bioluminescent paint on her cheeks almost gone. “Perhaps we should rest a moment and gather our strength.”
“No, I’m fine. I want to see where this tunnel leads.” Saoirse gave him a skeptical look but nodded her head.
They limped down the tunnel together, ducking under sharp stalactites and avoiding puddles of silty water. The pads of their damp bare feet slapped against the rock. Every curve in the pathway was surreal. When he first saw the dream the morning they left for the Isles, Rook had watched from afar as the mysterious torchbearer had wound his way through the tunnel. Now, Rook followed the same path as the male in the dream, reality and memory colliding eerily as the passageway unfurled in the shadows.
“Titans.” Saoirse suddenly stopped in her tracks. “What is that?”
Rook followed her gaze, eyes landing on the cell at the end of the murky tunnel. A sharp feeling of déjà vu throbbed in his mind. The dark cell appeared just as it had in his dream: cloaked in shadow and rusted so severely that reddish powder coated every inch of the iron bars. There was no sign of the occupant, though perhaps her bones remained hidden in the darkness.
They crept closer to the prison cell, leaving a trail of wet footprints in their wake.
“Why would a lone cell be all the way down here?” Saoirse mused. “Navigating these tunnels is a veritable labyrinth on its own. Anyone imprisoned here would never be able to find their way out. The isolation would drive even the soundest mind to madness.”
Please let me out.
The brokenness of the woman’s phantom voice echoed through Rook’s mind. Now, he understood why her voice had been saturated with such raw desperation. Saoirse was right. The cell was purposefully separated from the rest of the prison block, a psychological cage as well as a physical one. It was designed to enact a punishment of the highest order. One could easily go mad down here with nothing but the eternal dripping of water, watching year after year as rock formations tediously grew up from the floors. Rook wondered what crime the woman committed to earn such an abhorrent fate. Or, had she been an innocent victim of a monarch’s paranoia just like they were? But he’d never be able to ask her now. No movement or sign of life indicated another soul was down here with them.
They stopped before the slats of metal and peered in. Just like the dream, a pool of shadow swallowed up the barred crevice and obscured whatever lay hidden inside.
“What an awful place to be imprisoned,” Saoirse whispered. “It must be mind-numbingly lonely.”
“It is,” a voice rasped. Rook jumped at the sound, involuntarily leaping back from the cell. He threw a protective arm in front of Saoirse.
“Hel’s teeth,” she hissed, wrapping trembling fingers around the offered protection of his forearm.
Rook searched the shadows for the piercing eyes that haunted his dreams, but he saw nothing save for a barely discernible form huddled in the corner of the cell.
“There’s two of you this time,” the voice snaked out of the darkness. “Come to leer, have you?” Beside him, Saoirse went utterly still.
“Who are you?” Rook asked, daring to step back up to the rust-coated bars. “Why have I seen you in my dreams?” Saoirse remained rooted behind him, an odd expression on her face.
Bright eyes snapped open in the darkness. Silver-blue irises as luminous as a moon-gilded lake stared back at him. “You’ve seen me in your dreams? It has started, then. The prophecy. The Old magic is awakening as it was foretold.”
Prophecy? She was speaking nonsense.
The female prisoner crept out of the darkness and sidled up to the bars. She was startlingly emaciated, with hollow cheekbones and a skeletal frame only barely concealed under a paper-thin dress hanging off her. Streaks of silver shot through her dark brown hair. Her eyes were enlarged, reminding Rook of the salamanders accustomed to living in the darkness of caves.
Saoirse finally broke out of her trancelike state and came to stand before the cell, wrapping her hands around the iron bars. Her face was twisted into something like anguish and confusion.
Rook turned back toward the woman, taking in more details of her face as she pressed closer to the light. Silver scales crept along her cheekbones. Recognition slammed into him as all of her features came into focus. He’d seen that face before.
Eight years ago. Outside of that Titans-damned carriage.
Saoirse whispered, “Mother?”
The woman’s eyes flicked to Saoirse as if noticing her for the first time. The light in her gaze faltered as she took her in. “Saoirse?”