Chapter Thirty-Five
Fallyn
This close to Greylark’s Rest, the guard patrols had increased to staggering numbers.
We were forced to divert course off the road and far into the trees, forced to trip over fallen branches, navigate the world beneath the screen of the tree canopy.
Moss and tangled weeds muffled each step, not that we’d need it this far out.
The sounds of the forest were loud enough to assure me that we were alone out here.
But it was also unnerving.
“Are you certain we’re going the right way?” I asked, glancing around as if I could see anything discernable as our trajectory. Sunlight slipped beneath the trees in fractured beams, lighting our way, but it was at a mid-point in the sky, impossible to tell direction right now.
“Mostly.” Ash’s smug response only served to grate on my nerves. His self-satisfied grin made me want to throw a stick at him.
“I think I see something up ahead.” The brush cleared away through a curtain of vines—and there it was. A clearing.
Bathed in golden high noon light, at the heart of the clearing was what once must have been magnificent—a forgotten temple of the Olympian gods.
Now it laid in ruin. Towering marble columns that once cleared the height of the trees were cracked in half, covered by ivy coiling through it all.
Broken statues like fallen warriors on the ground, golden leaf laurels now rusted and corroded beyond salvation.
The gods had once stood in a circle, arms wide and outstretched.
The faces of the gods—Zeus, Hera, Athena, Hades—were all chipped away, unrecognizable save for their names at the base of each podium.
But what had happened here wasn’t simply the forest’s doing. Nor was it time’s.
The faces of each god had been gouged with tools.
I fingered the telltale marks from what looked like a crowbar, a spear, something had smashed and chiseled their faces—their identities—away.
And by the moss growing between them, it wasn’t recent.
I looked around. The vines had held dominion here for a considerable length of time.
Like Ash, I’m beginning to wonder if anyone alive currently knows this was here.
I felt a pulse of anger ripple through the air, cold, and turbulent. My surprised gaze found Ash glaring at the monuments as the shadows deepened around him, betraying his anger.
Hadn’t Ash said he didn’t care for the gods?
“Ash?”
I stepped toward him, cautiously.
Ash sighed, the shadows banished just like that. “Time doesn’t desecrate. Not like this.” He fingered the damage to the fallen gods, malice lighting his eyes. “Mortals do. This is sacrilege.”
“I wasn’t aware you cared so much for the old gods,” I said softly. Ash looked at me, as if just remembering I was there.
“I don’t,” he spat. “But if the old gods have forsaken us like some of the tales suggest, maybe the reason why starts with mortals who do things like this.”
“Are you angry that the old gods left us, or that the mortals did this? Either in retribution or causation?”
A rumble sounded in his throat—a growl. A warning. An answer. A plea.
I walked up the crumbling steps towards the massive statues, beginning with Zeus. “Then let’s fix it,” I said softly. “If only just a little.”
Ash’s face was incredulous. “You hate the gods.”
I wiped a layer of dirt from the marble face that was once Zeus, leaving the moss of his crown intact. For good measure, I bloomed small flowers into it, giving the King of the Gods a crown once more.
“I’m not doing it for them,” I said, admiring my handiwork. “I’m doing it for you.”
Something flickered in his expression, cleaving the anger there entirely. Surprise, certainly, but something else. Vulnerability? Gratitude? Hades’ statue was next, and I was committed to re-crowning each of these gods and goddesses for Ash.
And then, without any warning, the ground gave way.
A crack split the ground beneath my feet, stone shifting with an echoing groan.
Ash ran towards me, but the ancient marble and dirt crumbled faster than even his reflexes.
I shrieked his name just as his fingers caressed my wrist and the darkness swallowed me whole.
Horrified, he cried out my name in time with my shriek.
His hand followed mine into the hole, desperate and grasping, before his face came into view.
The last thing I’d ever see.
Tears came—
— and then my feet hit the ground.
Hard.
I groaned at the white-hot pain searing its way through my body as I crumpled. My ankles stung, my ribs refused to allow my lungs to breathe, and my head felt like it had been concaved. My vision blurred. Every breath was damp, thick with the scent of decay and sweetly metallic.
Blood?
It smelled rancid, not freshly spilled. This blood was not mine. The thought worked its way around all the invasive, fuzzy static and an all-consuming ringing filling my mind, making me nauseous.
“Fallyn!” An echo from above pushed its way through the static.
“Ash,” I coughed, pushing myself up onto my elbows. I wiggled my toes, ankles, knees. Other than feeling stiff and a headache that was certain to follow me for a week, I was intact. “I—I think I’m okay.”
A thud beside me had me lurching away on instinct, even as warm, rough hands stilled me, methodically searching my body for injury. “You’re not okay.” Ash’s growl was cut short as his fear melted into relief. His hand wavered, staying on my face longer than necessary.
“Ash.” I didn’t know if it were an apology, an admission, or something else. Something charged. But the moment his hand landed on my face, his dark eyes searching me for injury, my fight quieted. My fear died, replaced by something new. Something sparking in the dim.
It was the fear of the moment. Being trapped underground in a long-forgotten temple. Liar, the nasty voice in the back of my head hissed.
His lingering gaze was deeper than the void between stars, landing back on mine with a relief that sent my pulse skittering.
His stare held mine steady, laced with more intimacy than the space that exists between life and death, more gravity than a prayer.
My chest ached—a pain I could neither name nor understand.
“We should find a way out of here,” I whispered, breaking the spell, watching as Ash quickly donned his usual mask of casual, haughty indifference.
I hoped the muted lighting of this place hid the flush covering my cheeks, the only warmth in my body that wasn’t chased away when he looked carefully away from me.
His outstretched hand guided me back to my feet, his grip steady.
Grounding. My head swam as I rose to my feet, but I was pleasantly surprised to find myself steady enough. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. You’re the one who fell.” He swiveled back towards me, concern tightening his eyes. “Are you alright?”
“I think we’ll both feel better once we’re out of here.
” I tipped my head to gauge how far I’d fallen, ignoring the rush of nausea and the pounding intensifying in my head as I did so.
Eight feet, if I had to guess. Maybe ten.
No wonder my ankles were screaming through the sting.
I’d fallen feet first. At least I thought I did.
Given the ringing in my ears threatening to block out all other sounds, I must have hit my head pretty hard too.
It’s a wonder nothing shattered. “I think I can make us a way out. Hope you’re okay with climbing. ”
My head swam when I focused hard on my magic. My magic came willingly to the surface, but my mind was so fuzzy. Ash’s hand met my shoulder insistently.
“You hit your head.” His voice was firm, unwavering, low.
“I know relaxing isn’t something you’re terribly familiar with, but sit down and try to acquaint yourself with the concept.
” He busied himself with sweeping the area with the precision of an assassin, scrutinizing the shadows, checking for exits and threats.
“You’re bossy when you’re concerned.” I gave a shaky laugh.
He shot me a pointed look. “You just fell through the floor onto ancient stone. You’re lucky you’re conscious.”
My head swayed, most unhelpfully. “Mostly, anyway,” I muttered.
Ash steadied me with surprisingly gentle hands and a long-suffering sigh, his eyes rolling skyward. Despite his obvious exasperation, his tone softened. “Just don’t push yourself. Your magic will return when your head clears, just give yourself a moment.”
I smiled faintly, trying to ignore how touched I felt at his concern. “I didn’t realize the big, bad, scary Ash doled out medical advice.”
“I need you alive, remember?” he muttered without any of his previous venom. Despite myself, my lips twitched into a faint smile. “Let’s go see if there’s another way out. Preferably one that doesn’t require magic.”
He didn’t sound too certain.
We moved cautiously towards the rear of the cavern, the rancid smell roiling my nose. Ash betrayed no sign of his disgust, and how I’d never understand. Torches shivered into life as we passed.
At my balk, Ash’s hand found mine. “It’s most likely in response to our magic. Some things know how to obey.”
“That doesn’t raise red flags at all.” I retorted under my breath, taking a cautious step beside him before freezing. “Oh, fuck this.”
“What?” Ash glanced around, blade suddenly in hand as he scoped for threats.
My finger trembled as I pointed to the domed ceiling. “Spiders,” I whispered shakily, as if my voice alone would make them lash out. “Hundreds of them.”
He glanced up at the ceiling with a bored expression. The entire ceiling was draped with thick, silk curtains of webs with hundreds of glimmering eyes that sparked to life in the quivering torch light. Ash blinked, incredulous. “They’re just spiders.”
“They’re terrifying. They have those creepy little eyes--”
Ash did something I’d never seen him do.
He laughed. An honest, unguarded sound that completely disarmed me. “Most things have eyes,” he wheezed.
“Not eight!” I shuddered, trying to force the spider demon coming back to my mind's eye. “Burn them all.”
He arched a brow at me, doing little to shake off his amusement. “I beg your pardon?”
“Beg away. But after you burn them all.”
“You’re a violent little thing, aren’t you?” he mused. “Completely bloodthirsty. What did they ever do to you?”
I shrieked when one sank down on its web towards me.
“Burn it all. The temple. The forest. Me. All of it.”
“You face horrific nightmares daily, a blackmailing and potentially murderous fiancé, demons from the Morningstar’s Hell, and an ancient curse that’s likely to kill us both, unflinchingly, I might add, and spiders are what undoes you?”
“None of those things will crawl in your hair and lay eggs in your ears!” I insisted with a hiss.
Not to mention the creepy way they crawl and disappear, only to reappear just when you think you’re safe.
His laugh echoed once more, deep and rich as he reached for a torch, taking apparent pity on me.
“As you command, your great terror.”
I couldn’t see my face, but by his widening smirk, my glare could have felled a kingdom. “Don’t mock me.” I stuck my tongue out, ignoring very deliberately how petulant and juvenile I was acting.
“Me?” He had the audacity to feign innocence even as he swept the torch along the stone walls, sending countless legs scattering. “I would never.”
I flinched at each shimmer of shadow as the spiders retreated into tiny fissures and shadows or died. The scent was revolting, clawing its way down my throat, but I couldn’t find it in myself to care, as Ash burned every visible web with care.
“Better? Can we try to find the way out now?”
I was still flinching at every tickle across my skin that could have been tiny, furry legs. “Ask me again in five minutes when I’m sure none are plotting revenge.”
A vomit-inducing mental image of every spider in this place charging at me nearly sent me catatonic.
He almost laughed again. Almost. “You’re impossible.”
“I’m told it’s what makes me irresistible and endearing.”
A ghost of a smile twisted his lips as he shook his head. He tugged me along, his fingers curling steadily in mine with the scent of scorched silk trailing behind us.