Page 175 of Where Darkness Falls

Riordan whistles, leaning over the deep pit. “Do you know what’s down there,mate?” he asks.

Screeches and howls echo from the chasm below. A chill crawls over my spine, knowing that something more sinister than the Drakhul lurks beneath. A staircase, built from the earth, descends into the madness and is lit by the glowing lights of blood-red flames within floating lanterns—no doubt spelled to remain ignited for when the king comes calling.

Disgust curdles my insides as I back away from the entrance. When we return to Malvoria, I plan to find a way to punish my “beloved” father for sending Maeva to this horrific place. At least he had the good sense to send us along with her, otherwise she wouldn’t have made it this far.

“The only creature I’ve met is the Basilisk,” I reply. “However, I’ve heard whispered lore about spiders the size of small palaces, sightless creatures that feed on your fears, and monsters that would put your worst nightmares to shame.”

Maeva swallows thickly. “How lovely,” she stammers.

“As a child, I heard rumors of an immortal being that’s said to be the father of all evil lurking here, but Siorai locked him away in the deepest section of the Abyss in order to prevent his wickedness from corrupting all of Celestae,” Laisren says.

My stomach churns.

I pray that the worst thing we encounter is the Basilisk—not the iniquitous thing that whispered to my father all those years ago.

Maeva kicks a small stone over the side of the chasm. “Do you think that whatever created the Drakhul is down there?” she asks.

“Perhaps, but I’d rather not find out,” I reply. “We stay together, find the Crógemma, and high-tail it back to Malvoria.”

Everyone nods, except for Maeva, who’s lost in her own thoughts.

“Maeva?” I ask. Startled, she meets my gaze. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

She shuffles her feet, opening and closing her mouth—unsure whether to voice what’s weighing on her mind. After a few moments, she forces a smile and replies, “Of course.”

I narrow my eyes. Her cheeks flush as she walks toward the staircase etched into the side of the Abyss. There’s something that she isn’tsaying. I see it in her rigid body language, the way she won’t meet my gaze for more than a moment, or even speak to me beyond small pleasantries.

Perhaps you made her uncomfortable this morning by kissing her and then closing yourself off, you dimwit,I remind myself.

Her declaration has played on repeat in my mind, as well as her disappointment when I recoiled into the stoic mask. I want to take it back, but how can I when I feel like there are eyes and ears watching us at every turn? Her life with me would be complicated, and once she finally finds a way to retain her memories, she’ll need someone that’s less complex.

Someone who’s less tormented by visions of what once was.

I love her with every fiber of my being… and true love isn’t selfish.

Truly loving her means that after this ends, I’ll let her go.

“Bloody Celestae,”Maeva says, slipping on yet another one of the slimy steps of the pit.

The light above faded some time ago. Now only the glow of the red flames gives us any sense of our surroundings. The further we descend, the damper the atmosphere becomes, while the stairs grow slicker. Is this also meant to be a part of their trap in order to steal souls from Eternity?

If so, I’m not certain of how anyone could survive beyond these wretched stairs.

Riordan gags, pinching his nose. “What’s that ghastly aroma?” he chokes out. “I think the battlefields smell better than this lot.”

“Most likely the rotting creatures themselves,” Laisren answers. “They’ve been supernaturally locked down here for Celestae knows how long. Legend states that Siorai made it impossible for them to be freed from this pit.”

“That’s probably for the best,” Maeva gags.

After another two flights of stairs, we come to a large landing made from some kind of thick white material. As I walk along the platform, a sticky substance clings to my feet. I lean down to examine further when Maeva waves a hand toward a darkened cavern in the wall. “No one saidanything about strange doors,” she mutters. Looming over us is a door of twisted iron with a series of eight peculiar locks. Each one is spaced evenly from the other in a circular arrangement.

Hesitantly, we cross over to it. The door is four times the height of myself or the others. I tug on the thick iron bars, but it doesn’t budge. Then, my mouth is filling with excess alive as a pounding in my head intensifies. I believe my heart has jumped into my throat when I hear an unknown language whispered beyond the barricade in a rhythmic chant. I jerk my hands away from the bars, and the voices stop, as do the feelings of despair. Feeling three shades paler, I back away from the gateway and the evil that lurks beyond.

“How are we supposed to open it?” Maeva asks. She runs her fingers along the lower frame of the door, brows furrowed in concentration. I remove her hand before she touches the iron bars.

“It’s enchanted somehow,” I reply. “It needs something to open it—a certain ability, perhaps. I’m not sure, but I know it’s warded for a reason. I heard things whispering behind it.”

Slowly, she releases my hand, looking at her palm and then the door.