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“Higher Magic may have been stripped from the blood of my lineage when it was cursed, but the blood remains nonetheless. That puts me in a kind of limbo between Greater and Higher Magic. I can sense Higher Magic, I just cannot access it.”

“There will not be a next time, but if for some reason there ever is, don’t just let me lie to your face,” I said, narrowing my eyes on him.

He grinned, slipping his thumb and forefinger around my jaw and pulling my face toward his.

“And miss the opportunity to watch you squirm? Never,” he said as a low playful chuckle rolled from his throat.

His breath brushed against my skin as he pulled my face closer, a small smile gracing my mouth before I closed the distance between us and let my lips crash onto his.

We had woken early, just before dawn, to ensure we would be able to wake these cursed Gods before nightfall. If they were angry, if they wanted a fight, we did not want to be caught between them and the creatures that roamed these mountains at night.

The last hour of the hike had been grueling and my bones already felt stiff—ached to their very core. Andrues had packed me a tonic that would help renew my energy, but I didn’t dare take it until right before I spilled my blood over their stones.

My daggers clanked together against my chest as we summited the last peak and I looked down at the valley below us. Our heavy breaths mingling together were the only sounds in these dead, still mountains and the silence of it sent a chill skittering across my skin.

“It is downhill from here. The passage is just around that bend,” Dukovich said, his tone somber as he pointed toward the curve of the trail at the base of the peak we stood on.

Landers’s hand slid up the back of my neck, his fingers kneading into the muscle there and I groaned against the sensation. Pain and relief mixed together as I closed my eyes and took in a deep breath.

We would be okay.

We were going to be okay—we had to be.

I forced my eyes open to the sound of Wren’s boots crunching over the gravel as he began his descent down the mountain, and for a small second, I hesitated.

My throat constricted as I watched him walk away from me and my heart began to beat frantically against its cage.

His brother had done this, followed me blindly into danger and I had let him.

I had let him and it cost his life.

They were alike in so many ways. So unafraid, so fearless in their pursuit of justice and truth. Neither one had ever questioned the cost of putting themselves in danger to protect the people they loved. I couldn’t lose him too, couldn’t put his life at risk.

I couldn’t be the reason another one of my friends lost the love of their life.

Not for me— not for this .

“Wait,” I shouted, taking a few steps toward Wren and Dukovich as they turned to face me. I tried to hide the fear in my voice, the pain that had clawed its way to the surface. “How far from here are the ruins where you will meet Malik?”

“Not far. They are near the realm passage—about a half-day hike out of the mountain range then a few hours north,” Dukovich responded as I gave a shallow nod.

“Wren, I think you should go now, while we finish this.”

Wren’s face twisted in confusion as he looked from me to Landers. “Why?”

“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 for word—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.

Dukovich stared blankly at the 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. I was 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.

I wasn’t sure.

I wasn’t sure about anything at this moment and I couldn’t trust that if I opened my mouth to speak, I would be able to stop myself from telling him.

With my hand outstretched, I took two rapid steps toward the stone doors, clamping my eyes shut as my palm connected with the rock.

A chill ran down my spine like a vine of ice wrapping itself around my bones and scrambled away as my eyes shot open.

My hand snapped back to my chest and I looked to Landers as my breaths came out in short rapid bursts.

I had never seen his features so hard—so sharp. If I didn’t know him, it might have scared me. But I knew the look, knew that crease in his brow. It was his own fear that he was suppressing, that he was taming as he took a step toward my bloody palm print.

My breathing shallowed as I watched him place a hand on the door, like he was steadying himself as the muscles in his back tightened against his tunic.

He cleared his throat and the oxygen stilled in my lungs as a low growl vibrated from his chest, his canines sharpening to points as his mouth split open.

Flames burst from his lips, twisting and writhing with a life of their own, flickering in hues of crimson and amber as they collided with my blood.

I gasped as he took a step back and streaks of black and violet began to trickle over the stone. I slid my hand into his, squeezing as we watched the magic and blood seep into the doors then disappear.

Deafening silence fell over the mountain, and for a moment, it seemed to stretch into eternity—the world caught in its eerie embrace. Then, in the next breath, it lifted and the sounds of birds scattering from the trees around us screamed out into the sky.

“That’s it?” I asked, looking from the stone to Landers.

Amusement echoed in his chuckle as he watched the confusion seep onto my face and lifted a brow. “Were you expecting a show, Darkness? Expecting a dragon to emerge from my flesh to bring the fire?”

“I mean . . . kind of,” I said, shrugging as the heat of embarrassment flooded my cheeks.

“We will have to save that for another day.” He smirked as his gaze refocused onto the doors and pulled me closer into his side. I followed his line of sight, waiting for them to open—to move—but nothing happened.

“Are you positive you have the correct blood type? Because, I may be wrong, but nothing has happened,” Dukovich said as he stepped up to the doors and examined them.

My eyes narrowed on his back.

“Do you ever say anything helpful?” I retorted, pulling my satchel from my shoulder and squatting to meet it on the ground. I dug through it, searching for the energizing tonic Andrues had packed as Dukovich placed his palms on the door and pushed.

A deafening crack echoed through the mountains and I scrambled backwards at the sound.

“What did you do?” I hissed at him.

He turned to face us, a slow grin forming on his face as he gestured his head to the doors that were creeping open at his back.

“Looks like my touch was all they needed. These hands can do wonders,” he said, winking as I scoffed at him from the ground.

Vines pulled and snapped as the doors opened wider, the harsh, grating scrape of ancient stone grinding over rock pierced the air like the tortured soul of this mountain was screaming back at us—protesting our disturbance.

My hand clenched around the vial buried deep in my bag as I rose from the ground and pulled the cork from it, pressing it to my lips and letting the liquid drip down my throat.

Dukovich’s feet shuffled backwards, kicking up dust as he retreated from the gaping hole.

The sound of crumbling rock reverberated through the dark corridor and an unnerving sensation settled deep in the marrow of my bones as something tugged me toward it—an invisible force calling me into its depths.

The feeling was familiar; I had felt it when I first saw Landers. But this pull was stronger, almost consuming.

It felt . . . deadly .

My feet were moving before I had a second to think about what I was doing. Landers’s fingers caught around my forearm and pulled me into his side, breaking the trance I had unknowingly slipped into.

My eyes snapped toward his face to see every last pigment of color fade from his skin, his muscles tensing like a volt of electricity had just run through his veins as a deep, menacing chuckle flowed from the opening.

My eyes followed the sound and watched as a man stepped into the light.

“Hello, brother.”