Page 44 of Crowned In Venom

44

VARKOS

T he tunnel is narrow, suffocating, its walls closing in like a crypt.

Each step is agony.

The wounds on my body scream with every movement, the ache running deep, but I push forward.

But it doesn’t compare to the pain my heart.

I have to continue moving.

Anya is the only thing keeping me upright, her arm steadying me, her warmth anchoring me to the present.

If not for her, I would have collapsed long ago.

But I can’t fall now.

I can’t stop.

She needs to get out of here.

Even if it kills me, I will get her out.

"Varkos—" Her voice is soft but urgent. "You need to stop. You're bleeding too much."

"I'm fine."

It’s a lie.

She knows it.

I can feel the way she tightens her grip on me, her fingers pressing into my ribs as if she can hold me together by sheer will alone.

I stumble.

The world tilts.

And then—I collapse.

Anya catches me before I hit the ground, pulling me against her.

She cradles my body, lowering us onto the cold stone floor of the passage.

"No, no, no—" she whispers, her hands frantic, pressing against my wounds, trying to stop the bleeding.

I chuckle, though it’s weak.

"You're too stubborn for your own good."

"And you're too reckless for yours," she snaps back. "You’re not dying on me, Varkos."

I smile.

I don’t tell her the truth.

That I don’t intend to live through this.

That I will get her out, make sure she’s safe?—

Then I will turn back.

And I will end the Matriarch.

Or die trying.

"Come on," she urges, pulling me upright, holding me steady.

"Just a little further."

She’s stronger than she knows.

Or maybe I am just weaker than I want to admit.

Either way, she gets me to my feet.

We keep moving.

Then—

We reach the end of the tunnel.

A heavy stone archway looms before us, carved with runes I don’t recognize.

Beyond it?—

A temple.

Ancient.

Silent.

The air is thick with something powerful, untouched by time.

"What is this place?" Anya murmurs, her breath catching as she steps forward.

I don’t know.

I have lived in these lands all my life, yet I never knew this was here.

A part of me shudders.

"Why did my father bring us here?"

I don’t have an answer.

We search for an exit.

We find nothing.

No doors.

No openings.

Nothing but cold stone and empty halls.

A dead end.

Anya’s frustration is palpable, her hands pressing against the walls, searching for hidden mechanisms, for anything that makes sense.

"There has to be a way out."

But the longer we search, the more unease creeps into my bones.

This place feels like a tomb.

Not a sanctuary.

Not a refuge.

A burial ground.

Still, we press forward until we reach a massive stone altar.

It is the only thing in the room, standing in the center like it has been waiting for something.

For us.

I am too tired to question it.

I collapse onto the stone, my body giving out.

Anya sits beside me, her hands still shaking from all we have endured.

I turn to her.

"Anya."

She looks at me, her expression soft, weary, beautiful.

I lift my hand, touching her cheek, brushing away the dirt and blood that stains her skin.

"I love you."

The words fall without hesitation.

Without fear.

Her breath catches.

"Varkos—"

I don’t let her finish.

I pull her close, pressing my lips to hers, soft, unhurried.

She melts into me, her fingers threading through my hair, holding me as if she is afraid I will disappear.

I kiss her again, desperate to drown in her warmth.

If this is the last moment I have before I return to face my fate, I will make it count.

Her hands tighten around me.

And I know?—

She won’t let me go easily.

Neither will I.

But some things are inevitable.

The Matriarch is still out there.

And this isn’t over.

Not yet.

Not until she is dead.