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“If we die, if they kill us when we wake them, someone needs to survive it. We need someone to still get whatever information Malik has to offer and take it back to Locdragoon,” I pressed, silently pleading with him to listen to me. To just go and not fight me on this. “They cannot be woken without Landers or me, and Dukovich needs to glamour us.”

“I am honored you are volunteering my life,yet again, but Malik will not stay if I am not there—will not speak to Wren alone,” Dukovich said, annoyance playing between the sarcasm in his tone.

“Yes he will,” Landers said, his voice a calm command. “You must have a phrase, a word that will let him know we are allies. Give it to Wren.”

“I do not know what you are referring to,” Dukovich said, the smile crossing his lips sharp and challenging.

“Dukovich,” I snapped, the cadence of my voice cutting into the air like a battle axe. “It will not just be the Laith and Yaldrin people that die—it will be the Marzog as well. If we are killed without that information and it could have prevented lives from being lost, that blood is on your hands because you weren’t willing to set aside your pride.” Dukovich stared back at me for a long moment, the edges of my face softening as I took a step toward him and pulled his hand into mine.

I was not above begging.

“Please. I swear to you, no harm will come to him.”

He pulled his hand from mine and dragged it down his face as a heavy sigh sounded from his lips.

“Do you know the song of Nimbria?” he asked, turning to Wren who nodded in response. “Once you raise the signal and he arrives, quote back the second verse to him, in full—word forword—before you say anything else. He will do the same with the first verse. If any word is missed or said incorrectly, it is a sign that you are compromised.”

“Understood,” Wren responded, turning to Landers and me. “Are you sure you do not need me here?”

“We will manage,” Landers said, slapping his hand on Wren’s shoulder and squeezing. “No one else knows these realms like you, brother. Go, and if you are not back in Locdragoon by tomorrow’s moon, we will find you.”

I pushed past Landers, throwing my body against Wren’s chest and wrapping my arms tight around his neck.

“Please, be safe. Please come back whole,” I whispered against Wren’s neck as his arms around my waist pulled a little tighter before pushing me away and taking my face between both his hands. I wrapped my fingers around his forearms as his thumbs caressed gently over my cheek bones.

“I will see you soon, sister,” he said, a soft smile gracing his lips before he leaned down and kissed my forehead. A wave of relief flowed through my body as his lips brushed over my skin.

He was leaving.

He would not die here today.

Dukovichstaredblanklyatthe passage that stood before us, its stone doors towering over our heads like a formidable barrier. Their surfaces were chiseled with intricate carvings that seemed to whisper ancient secrets down at us.Runes and flowing script in the dead language snaked across the doors in haunting, interwoven patterns that almost came alive under the layer of vines and moss that had grown over them after all these years.

The sun cut through the smog-filled air just enough to catch on the gold inlays and glitter against the muted grey mountain. I swallowed the lump in my throat as I took a step closer to study them, pressing my palm against the surface as my eyes wandered over the massive sigil split between the two doors—a dragon emerging from a flame. There was no handle, no crevice to pull them open with.

“What does it mean?” I asked, my voice hushed as my fingers traced over the symbols.

“It is a warning,” Landers answered, his voice almost reverent as he stepped to my side with his hands clasped behind his back. “Swift be the reaper’s hand if blood is spilled and burned, where bones and wings of cursed beings lie forsaken, scorned, and spurned.”

“I see poetry is not one of your grandparents’ strengths,” Dukovich deadpanned, his voice too loud against the quiet space. I snapped my head toward him, scowling at his need to make everything into a joke as he smiled to himself. “Do get this over with, would you? I have no desire to be in these mountains any longer than necessary.”

“How do we get inside?” I asked, turning my gaze back to Landers and watching as the vein in his neck began to pulse at a rapid pace under his tattooed skin.

“Your blood,” he answered without turning away from the doors.

“I thought it was supposed to be spilled across their tombs?”

“This is their tomb,” Dukovich answered from behind me as I took a step away from it. “This entire mountain peak is their stone coffin,” He spat, his tone souring with each word.

We were doing this.Iwas doing this. My stomach flipped, my intestines tangling around each other as the enormity of this choice finally hit me.

We could be walking into a den of monsters.

My fingers trembled as I reached for the hilt of my dagger strapped against my chest. I drew it out and pressed its cool blade against the soft skin of my palm. The world seemed to still around me, the weapon feeling too heavy in my hand and as I contemplated the gravity of this decision.

I pressed it into my skin before I could hesitate a second longer, hissing at the sharp sensation of flesh splitting as I dragged it across my palm. Blood began to pour from the wound, running like a crimson stream between the crevices of my fingers as I looked to Landers.

“Are you sure about this, Hyacinth?” His voice was almost a whisper and all I could do was nod in response.