Page 29 of Love and Death (Tempting the Fates #4)

HAZEL

I make it about half a spiral down the stairwell before I feel the stone slab rumble above me, and I can’t help but watch as it begins to close. A sudden rush of wind extinguishes my torch as the entrance seals itself seamlessly back into place, entombing me in a pitch-black void.

I should have known my supposed luck was too good to be true.

Well, there’s nowhere left to go but down.

Placing my nearest hand flat against the damp chill of the wall, I use the unlit torch to help feel my way forward. The stairs are cut from slippery, uneven crystal, making every step a challenge, and any sudden movement treacherous.

The air grows heavier—ancient and moldering—as it clings to my skin and leaves the tang of forgotten iron in my mouth. I shudder, the stone beneath my feet growing icier still, and I swear I can almost hear the frosting of my breaths as they escape me in smaller and tighter gasps .

Time holds no place here, my descent as painstaking as it is unending. I’m nearly ready to give up and collapse in exhaustion when the darkness shifts.

A faint flicker.

And then, the next thing I know, I have to shield my eyes as blue flames erupt from somewhere far below and shoot up to illuminate the central spine of the sapphire stairwell in a burst of brilliant light.

I’ve pressed myself flat against the opposite wall of the stairwell without realizing it, my heart thundering in my chest.

I can see now, but at what cost? Who lit the flame? And why only now?

I refuse to turn back, despite the uncertainty. If there is someone down there, I’ll eventually be caught anyway, and I would rather take my chances while trying to find out what lies below.

Shifting forward, I keep my one hand pressed to the wall for support and ready the torch in my other to wield as a weapon, should the need arise. The going is easier now, and I hurry to escape the stairwell as quickly as I can.

Within a handful of minutes, the spiraling staircase levels out, and I find myself standing before an open archway. Leaning forward, a long, fairly narrow hallway leads off to the right and left.

Stepping out into the hallway, blue flames run in patterns along the walls on either side in elegant carved lines too shallow to be lit by anything other than magic. Taking another tentative step forward and away from the shelter of the stairwell, I peer off into the darkness .

Nothing happens. No one steps out from a hidden crevice to grab me, no voice calls out to stop me or announce its presence.

As far as I can tell, I am alone down here.

I breathe a soft sigh of relief and then set off to my left, where the blue lines of light appear to stretch further into the distance, to continue my search.

The air is even thinner here, the strange stale stillness of it catching in my lungs, and I can only hope that the flickering flames do not consume too much of it before I can leave. No sooner than I think this thought, then the light around me shifts again.

Frowning, I realize the flames appear to be dimming. I blink to reset my vision, but it only worsens. Stealing a quick glance over my shoulder, my chest tightens beneath panic’s grip.

The passage behind me is growing darker by the second, the flames dying out as they move toward me. If I don’t hurry, I may very well be swallowed whole by darkness once again.

I turn back and pick up my pace, only to quickly have to move even faster. Within minutes, I’m running to keep up with the fading lines of light, my skirts caught up in one hand, the torch still clutched in the other.

Something must have triggered the flames to come to life before, but what?

Or, who?

Only one name comes to mind to answer my question, but I quickly force it down. Not now.

Focus .

Stay in the light, find out what’s down here, and escape.

Nothing else matters right now.

My lungs ache and my head spins from the effort and lack of air, but I push myself to keep moving.

Until I can’t.

My legs give way beneath me, and I stumble sideways into the wall before sliding down to the floor in an exhausted heap. I watch the light continue to creep toward me and then slip past, but I can’t get up. I can’t chase after it.

I need to rest. To breathe.

If only for a moment.

Leaning back against the wall, I close my eyes to gather my strength as I wait for the light to finally die out.

Only, when I next open my eyes, it hasn’t.

At least, not entirely.

There’s a faint glow in the distance that, if I hurry, I may still be able to catch up to. Wincing as I pull myself back up onto my feet, I stagger toward it.

The glow gradually gets brighter, despite my slowed pace, and hope wells up within me as I realize the flames have finally stopped moving.

Drawing closer, I see why.

Two massive black doors block the way ahead, nearly invisible in the darkness, despite two blue flames burning bright on either side of them.

This could be it. This has to be it.

My heart racing, I step up to the doors, place my palm flat against the smooth surface, and push.

The heavy black door swings open slowly. I squeeze through as soon as there’s a crack wide enough and step into a vast, circular chamber—a dark sanctum carved into the very heart of the Underworld itself.

Smooth, sapphire walls curve upward into a domed ceiling etched with strange, glowing runes in a language that I don't recognize.

The floor itself is inlaid with the same fiery blue lines that lit up the passageway, but these ones form a woven pattern that draws the eye to the center of the room, where a large stone table lies waiting.

And on it … a body, shrouded in a dark linen.

I step forward, hardly daring to believe it possible, but even covered, the form is too familiar, too tall, too imposing to be anyone else but Death.

My breath catches in my throat, and I suddenly realize just how unprepared I am for this moment.

To see him like this.

So alone. So still.

Tears sting the back of my eyes as I stumble closer, the hem of my dress trailing behind me in a rushed whisper.

“Mortal, what are you doing down here?”

I let out a surprised shriek, the torch dropping from my hand to clatter against the floor. Spinning toward the voice, I watch wide-eyed as a figure steps from the shadows just behind the door I’d opened.

His eyes gleam in the low light, burning from within as he rakes a hand through the dark waves of his disheveled hair.

“Cerberus,” I gasp, my shoulders sagging under the weight of my relief. “You scared me. ”

He doesn’t offer me so much as a smile in reply, his expression cold despite the fire in his eyes.

“Good, you should be scared,” he says, his voice low and measured as he takes another step toward me. “You should not be down here.”

“Cerberus?” I match his step back, my skin prickling in warning.

“You should not be here,” he repeats, his voice so even that it only makes it all the more terrifying. Gone is his rakish grin. Gone is the mischievous glint in his eye.

All that is left is cold, calculated discipline.