Page 94 of The Fallen and the Kiss of Dusk (Crowns of Nyaxia #4)

MISCHE

I walked and walked and walked. With every step, the underworld urged me on.

Eventually, I came upon a fallen forest. The mushrooms had once towered high over my head, stalks glistening white and purple and shimmering black.

Now, they had all toppled. They covered the sandy earth with fleshy, rotted caps.

The stench was horrific. Every breeze stirred clouds of green spores and the smell of decay.

It took a long time to get through this section, because I had to climb over the constant blockages. It was slow going, and exhausting even by the standards of my not-quite-mortal body. I hummed to myself to pass the time, and the underworld hummed along with me.

Eventually, I reached a temple nestled within the forest of mushrooms. The last time I’d been here, the temple had still held some of its former glory, its walls rising up and forming a sparkling dome that had peeked from within the mushroom caps.

Now, all that was left were a few twisted pieces of the frame.

When I stepped through what remained of the doorway, a few pitiful shards of the ceiling twinkled down from above.

The pews within were destroyed, crushed by the falling mushrooms and sprinkled with broken glass.

The crystalline moat of blood that had been here before was now nothing but crusted brown upon crumbling stone.

Still, I wandered through what was left as a howling wind shuddered through the temple.

Keep going, the underworld said.

It is here, the flower promised.

Soon, I came to the altar room.

Despite the temple’s more recent decay, in this room, most of the damage was from the battle Asar, Chandra, Elias, and I had fought here so long ago. The slain guardian, the broken songbird, still lay in the center of the room.

I touched its corpse as I passed by. Silence. At least now, it was in peace.

Then I lifted my eyes to the altar. Above it, a metallic bird’s skull, glowing with the touch of the divine, overlooked the ruin.

It had belonged to the guardian, once, but it had been turned into something else.

Go to it, the underworld urged me.

It was left here for you, the flower said.

I crawled onto the altar and climbed to the skull. Like the flower, this impulse came second nature to me. The obvious next step, even though I couldn’t explain how or why.

At my touch, the skull came free in my hands. It seemed more delicate than it had on the wall. Through it, I heard the whispers of a million fallen souls.

It is yours, they told me.

It was mine. I didn’t know how I knew it, but I did.

Maybe that was faith.

I placed the skull over my face. Whorls of metal shifted and reformed, weaving around the back of my head and into my hair. My heart felt stronger. The path before me clearer.

I looked down at the pool of blood—fresh—that surrounded the altar. A smile flitted over my lips.

I stepped through it, and continued my journey.