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“I’ve found much and more,” he said. “The Library Isle is far more extensive than the archives in your own palace.”

It felt like a jab, and Erida bit the inside of her cheek to keep from reacting.

Taristan’s patience ebbed. “Well, Wizard,” he growled. “Out with it.”

When Ronin turned, he wore a smile Erida never wished to see again. It spread too wide, the lines of his face running too deep, turning his red-rimmed eyes into a pair of eerie moons. She did her best not to recoil in horror as the veins in his neck pulsed, white as Taristan’s but sharper somehow. They jumped slightly, thumping with the rhythm of Ronin’s withered heart.

The priest folded his hands together in mock prayer.

“What do you know of the realm... Infyrna?”

23

Stairway to Hell

Corayne

The dream was worse than any before. Too real, too close. She felt Asunder all over, the hellish realm both hot and cold, blindingly bright and void black all at once. Everything and nothing. Corayne reached with empty hands, pawing through air and mud. She tried to breathe, tried to scream. Nothing came.

But she felt her legs moving. Felt her feet. Heard the echo of her own boots on stone.

There was a stairwell. Her fingers trailed against a wall, rough to the touch, and warm.

Down and down she spiraled, the blackness pressing against her open eyes.

She wanted to scream again, but no sound came.

This is a nightmare,she told herself.You are asleep, and nothing here can hurt you. You’re going to wake up. You’re going to survive.

It felt like a lie, even in her own head, even as she knew nothing around her was real.

And yet it certainly was.

The staircase ended.

This was Asunder. This was Hell.

The realm of the Torn King, the Devil of the Abyss, the God Between the Stars. The Red Darkness.

What Waits.

“Corayne an-Amarat,” a voice hissed, everywhere and nowhere, in her bones and in her ears. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

The night air was cold on her face, searing into her lungs as she gasped for breath. Corayne jolted upright, her forehead damp with sweat, her body tangled in her own cloak. Next to her, Andry slept soundly, and Charlie on his other side. She panted, looking at their sleeping forms to ground herself.

It was just a dream. Just a nightmare.

Her heart threatened to jump out of her chest, her pulse pounding in her ears. Every breath was a struggle, searing through her teeth, the wind freezing on her face.

Dom hulked next to the closest fire, his silhouette edged with flame. He watched her without moving, his eyes glassy but alert. Corayne saw him raise one eyebrow and she shook her head.

“Just a dream,” she whispered.

He nodded an inch and let her be.

With a will, she lay back down, flat against her cloak, her chest rising and falling. The stars above winked through the clouds and trees. She tried to count them and steady her heart.

Despite all her speeches, her plans, Corayne an-Amarat had never felt so afraid. She did not fall asleep again, her eyes on the stars all night long, watching as her breath puffed in the frigid air. She looked for dragons, looked for skeletons, looked for anything out of the ordinary as the clouds parted. She was warm within her furs, the campfire still throwing off good heat even as dawn streaked through the sky. But no matter how comfortable or how weary she was, she never shut her eyes again.