Chapter 10
Bree
The ground is stone.
Then it isn’t.
My foot sinks through something that shouldn’t exist, and I’m falling—except I’m not. I catch myself on nothing. Literally nothing. My hand goes right through where a wall should be.
I pull back fast.
Okay. Okay. The ground changes. Don’t trust it. Got it.
Except I don’t got it, because I have no idea where I am or how to get out, and the darkness here isn’t just dark—it moves. Breathes. I can feel it watching.
Something brushes my ankle.
A sound rips out of me—half gasp, half squeal—pure instinct. I jerk away, stumbling, skin crawling where it touched.
Not a touch. Worse. Like cold breath solidified. Like fingers that aren’t fingers.
My heart slams against my ribs, but there’s nowhere to go. Everywhere I turn, the black presses closer, and underneath it—
Things.
I can’t see them. Can’t hear them. But I know they’re there. Circling. The way you know something’s behind you in the dark even when you can’t prove it.
My hands are shaking.
I take a step. Stone again. Then nothing. Then something that crunches but leaves no sound.
Move, my brain screams. Don’t stop moving.
But move where? There’s no direction here. No light. Just black and more black and the certainty that if I run, the things circling will chase.
Or stop, something whispers. Just stop. Let go.
That voice is new. Quieter than the panic, but heavier.
I shake my head hard, trying to clear it. Bad idea. The world tilts sideways, and for a second I’m falling again—not through space, through something thicker.
When everything steadies, there’s light ahead.
Silver. Moving.
I stare at it, not trusting anything in this place.
The light curves through the black like—like liquid. It leaves glowing trails that fade almost immediately. It takes me too long to understand what I’m seeing.
A snake.
Silver scales catching light that shouldn’t exist here. Eyes that reflect… something. I don’t know what, but looking at them makes my head hurt.
I’ve never seen it before, but somehow it doesn’t surprise me. Nothing surprises me anymore in this place.
It glides past me—not toward me, past—cutting a path through the darkness. Where it moves, the shadows pull back.
The circling things retreat.
I really don’t trust it.
But when I stand still, something brushes the back of my neck. Closer than before. Close enough that I can feel the shape of teeth that haven’t bitten.
Yet.
The snake keeps moving. The path stays clear.
Perfect. Follow the creepy snake or get eaten by invisible nightmare creatures.
I follow the snake.
Obviously.
I’m busy trying not to die but I notice when things start to change.
The ground stops shifting. Still black, still wrong, but solid. The things fall back further—not gone, but distant. Background static instead of trying to eat me.
My hands stop shaking.
I notice halfway through a step, and it stops me cold.
When did that happen?
I lift them, staring. My fingers are steady. Completely steady. They shouldn’t be steady. Not after the mirror, or his voice. Not after any of this.
The cold fades next.
Not warm. Just… less. Less like drowning. Less like being crushed.
My heartbeat slows.
The panic—the choking, suffocating panic that’s been strangling me since I fell—goes quiet. Not gone, but muffled. Like someone wrapped it in cotton and shoved it down deep where I can’t reach it.
This should scare me.
It doesn’t.
I know that’s bad. I know that’s really, really bad.
But the thought doesn’t stick. It slides away like water off glass.
The snake glides ahead, unconcerned. Its path curves left, then right, weaving through nothing like it knows exactly where it’s going.
I follow because stopping probably means the things come back.
I follow because the calm feels good.
I follow because I’m too tired to fight anymore.
Yes.
The voice. Ethos, deep and gravely resounding in my head.
Just there. Everywhere at once.
Come.
My feet move faster without me telling them to.
There’s a light ahead. Like something emerging from underwater.
First, shadows that might be walls. Black stone. Maybe. Or smoke shaped like stone.
Then arches. Tall, elegant, their tops dissolving before they finish.
Silver fire runs along the surfaces. Not burning anything. Intimidating and calming at the same time. The light feels warm even though I’m not close enough to touch.
There are shapes deeper in. Low. Soft. Draped in fabric that moves even though there’s no wind.
My brain tries to tell me something about that, but the thought won’t fully form.
The snake reaches a clear line between the void and the half-formed chamber. It coils there, head raised.
Waiting.
Offering.
I stop.
My body’s been moving on autopilot, and suddenly my brain catches up and screams.
Don’t.
Turn around.
Run.
But there’s nowhere to run. Behind me is teeth and hunger and circling death. Ahead is… something else. Something that whispers promises I can’t hear but desperately want.
My foot lifts.
No, I think, but it’s distant. Weightless.
“Yes, little queen.”
His voice is in my bones now. Not sound—vibration. It spreads through my whole body until I can’t tell where it ends and I begin.
“Come.”
My foot crosses the line.
The calm floods in. Drowns everything. All the screaming warnings go silent under the weight of it.
Somewhere far away, I know I should be terrified.
But I can’t reach that feeling anymore.
The snake uncoils and disappears in a puff of black smoke. The chamber breathes around me—welcoming, safe, home.
I take another step.
Another.
The darkness closes behind me, and I don’t look back.
Something waits inside with the silver light. I can feel it watching. Patient. Absolute.
Like it’s been holding its breath for me.