6. RISE ON THE HILL
The tug on the bond grew stronger as we turned another corner.
Thankfully, the catacomb tunnel’s ceiling had been gradually rising, finally allowing us to fully stand upright.
I took note of the walls as the tension eased from my back.
They were no longer made of roughly-carved earth, but were lined with small, rectangular bricks.
The floors had leveled out as well and were now paved with an assortment of stones, worn smooth from continuous use.
Small, domed alcoves jutted off from the main tunnel every so often.
Some were flickering with candlelight. Others remained dark.
Lit candles . . .
My stomach lurched. Someone else had been here.
Maeson lowered her hand, closing her fist to snuff out the fire since it was no longer needed.
I walked a bit closer to Remic.
“Feel anything yet?” he said under his breath as we came to another corner and slowed to a stop.
I eyed the other tunnels that led in different directions before closing my eyes and feeling for Niall.
Where are you? I called out to him in my mind. He didn’t reply, but a cool rush of air brushed against my face, nudging me to the right.
“That way,” I said, peering down the nearest tunnel.
We moved quietly, keeping close to the walls, following them as they wound around another curve until Remic held an arm up to stop us. “There are others here,” he murmured, tilting his head to listen.
I suddenly gripped the leathers at his waist as a jolt of pain shot through my head. Pressure built behind my eyes, and my knees buckled. As I wobbled, Remic threw his arm around me, pulling me into his side and holding me up.
“What is it? What’s wrong?” His eyes darted frantically over my face.
I tried to keep my groan quiet, but my head pulsed with agony. “My head . . . it feels like . . .” The pain felt distant, yet close enough to overwhelm my senses. Like it was echoing from somewhere nearby.
I smelled mud next. My chest felt like it was going to cave in. I clawed at Remic as I began gasping for breath. Then, my legs gave out completely.
Remic’s eyes flared in panic. “Auren!”
Maeson fell to her knees beside me. “She’s having a panic attack,” she said as quietly as she could, tearing through her satchel.
Tears lined my eyes as dread set in. I was having a panic attack, but it wasn’t my own. I was feeling someone else’s anguish, someone else’s dread . . .
My mate’s.
Maeson found what she was searching for—a branch of lavender—and waved it in front of me, practically shoving it up my nose in the process. The woody, floral scent snapped me back into focus, and my breathing leveled out.
“It’s Niall,” I said as soon as I could catch my breath. “He’s here. He’s close.”
Remic looked around. “There are many others here now. I think we’ve entered the prison section.”
Sure enough, instead of a hall full of open alcoves with lit candles, this section held cells with barred, iron doors. Torches braced by rusted sconces lit the walls, and the smell of unwashed bodies and weeks-old feces wafted in our direction.
“I’m sensing four others in this hallway, and more beyond it,” Remic said, weighing our options. “Most are too weak to be aware of our presence.”
Maeson leaned around us to see. “You can sense all that from here?”
Remic nodded, a section of his silver-white hair slipping forward over his shoulder. “Can you stand?” he asked me.
I took a deep breath and pushed past the pain in my head, nodding. Whatever Niall was enduring, it was intense. “Something’s happening to him, Remic. We have to hurry.”
Remic lifted me to my feet. “Quietly, then,” he said, taking my hand and leading the way.
I pushed some of my power into my mental shield, trying to block out the pain that was radiating through it. It quelled the brunt of it enough for me to focus.
As we passed by the first door on our right, I peered inside.
It was empty. But the one across from it held what looked to be an older male who was curled up in the corner next to a filthy bucket overflowing with something foul.
I couldn’t tell if he was dead, but he didn’t move.
The next door revealed a younger male, completely naked and slumped over in the center of the cell.
He lifted his head and followed us with his eyes, but didn’t say a word as we passed.
To our right, another male—older, but not wasted away like the first. He sat trembling in the corner, mumbling something to himself.
Then, to our left, someone shuffled forward abruptly. I turned just as a prisoner met her cell door with a clang of the irons at her wrists, her knuckles whitening as she grasped the bars.
She was pale, frail-looking, seeming as if she might wither away and crumble into dust with the slightest touch. But the fire that burned in her glazed-over eyes told me she was nowhere near death.
Her crippled hand reached out between the bars, and a bony finger pinned me on the spot. “You,” she rasped.
The stench that came from her mouth made us all step even further away. Remic held me at an arms-length behind him, his glamour falling, wings splaying wide in defense. The markings around his eyes lit like embers, casting a red glow onto the bars that separated us from the prisoner.
Surprisingly, she didn’t seem fazed by his transformation. “We have been waiting for you,” she croaked, leaning around him to see me.
Maeson grabbed onto my arm protectively. “What do you mean?”
The old crone’s eyes didn’t leave mine. “The one who was promised,” she said, nodding. “Yes, the one who brings light. The one that will save us all.” She smiled, baring a mouth of missing teeth.
Remic stepped forward. “What do you know of this?”
The crone had the common sense to back away from the bars at his approach. She pulled her gaze up to his. “Blessed by the gods and the fates, she is. The realm will shake at her splendor. She will usher in The Great Change.” She giggled slightly. The gritty sound of it made me uneasy.
“Rise on the hill. Rise on the hill,” she whispered repeatedly as her eyes found mine again. “Bright as a star you shall be when you rise on the hill.”
Maeson squeezed my arm. “We should go. She’s going to draw too much attention.”
We turned to leave, when the prisoner suddenly gasped behind us, seeming to suck all the air out of the corridor.
“And terrible as the darkest storm!” she squawked.
I halted.
“Auren—” Remic called, turning back for me.
I held up my hand at him.
“What did you just say?” I asked the prisoner, stepping toward her.
Her eyes bulged as she clung to the bars with both her knobby hands and pressed her face between them. “You will bring forth the darkness.” Her voice shook. “One will be banished, and another will rise.” Her lips quivered as she shook her head against the bars. “Another will rise,” she repeated.
She must have been in a state of derangement, because she had the prophecy wrong.
And yet, a chill washed over me with her words.
As Remic pulled me away, the echoes of the prisoner’s cackle reached down the hall after us.
“Rise on the hill! Rise on the hill!” she repeated in a demented song.
“She’s lost her mind down here,” Maeson murmured.
I knew that much.
Still, I couldn’t shake free from her words.