Page 42

Dahlia

The cave swallowed us whole.

It was colder than I expected. Not the kind of chill you notice on your skin, but the kind that wraps around your bones. Wet stone closed in on either side, slick with condensation, and the air was thick with the metallic tang of old magic and older decay.

The torch in Kieran’s hand gave off just enough light to keep the shadows from pressing too close. Its flame was unnatural—blue and eerily steady—but it flickered like it knew we were being watched.

The deeper we walked, the more the walls began to change. Rough-hewn stone gave way to carvings—some faded, some still sharp. Runes I didn’t recognize. Symbols that made my chest tighten.

“Some of this looks like the warding in the Hollow Veil,” I whispered.

Kieran’s jaw tensed. “And some of it doesn’t. Some of it’s older.”

We kept moving.

The tunnel eventually widened into a corridor lined with empty sconces. And yet, with each step, another torch flared to life—more of those bone-and-vine constructs, burning blue as if acknowledging our presence.

It should’ve been comforting.

It wasn’t.

Each one lit with a hiss, echoing in the narrow hall. The flame wasn’t fire—it was something else entirely. Cold and alive.

And then we reached the cavern.

The torchlight died.

Not dimmed. Not flickered.

Extinguished.

The silence that followed was a vacuum. A breath held too long.

I couldn’t see anything, but I felt it.

A weight in the air. A growl that didn’t quite reach my ears but rattled my ribs.

The blue light snapped back on—one torch, then two, revealing the mouth of the cavern ahead.

And the thing inside it.

It was massive. Twisted. A chimera of stitched parts and magic gone wrong—too many limbs, too many eyes, slick with something black and glistening. Its back was hunched like a predator’s. Its front legs were claws, but its face—

Its face was a mask of bone and shadow.

Kieran stepped in front of me.

And I knew without a doubt—

That thing was the gatekeeper.

And we were not welcome.

I reached for the pouch at my side.

Battle was coming.

And if this was the threshold—

We were going to bleed to cross it.

The chimera roared, a wet, echoing sound that made my stomach twist. It surged forward with unnatural speed, claws slicing through the air. Kieran shoved me aside and slashed his arm with the dagger—deliberate, practiced. Blood spilled onto the stone and ignited.

Not fire.

Bloodfire.

It leapt from his skin like a living thing, coiling through the air in writhing red-gold tendrils. It struck the creature square in the chest—and the beast screamed. Not in pain. In fury.

The blow slowed it, but didn’t stop it.

The chimera lunged.

I rolled to the side and landed hard near something metallic. I looked down.

A Greecian sword.

Not rusted. Not abandoned.

Polished.

Waiting.

And all around us, half-buried in the stone, were bones. Skulls. Armor. Remnants of warriors from every era—Viking helms, Roman shields, Greek sandals, even a rusted WWII rifle.

This thing had been killing across centuries.

I grabbed the sword and surged to my feet, flame kindling in my palms.

“Kieran!”

He turned, shadows bristling around him, blood still dripping from his arm. “Don’t get close—”

“I’m not standing back,” I said.

The chimera charged again, its body a blur of muscle and limb and shrieking mouths. Kieran’s shadows lashed out like vipers, tangling its legs, while I slashed upward with the sword and followed with a jet of fire from my free hand.

It howled.

Still standing.

Still coming.

But slower.

We circled it. Kieran’s bloodfire carved lines into the ground—traps, sigils, barriers it couldn’t cross without pain. My flames danced along the sword’s edge, turning it into something holy.

The chimera slammed into a wall of bloodlight and reeled back, wounded now, but not broken.

“You good?” I called.

“Ask me when it’s dead,” Kieran growled.

The creature crouched low, growling with a sound like gravel and death.

And then it charged again.

We braced. Together. For the next wave. And the one after that.

It snarled and swept one massive limb toward us, catching Kieran across the ribs and sending him crashing into the wall with a grunt. I screamed, fury lashing through me, and hurled a ball of flame into the beast’s side. It barely flinched.

It lunged again—this time at me.

I ducked, rolled beneath the arc of its claws, and slashed at its belly with the sword.

The blade bit deep, and black blood sprayed across the cavern floor.

The chimera shrieked and thrashed, its tail whipping like a scythe.

Kieran was back on his feet, his shadows wrapping around the creature’s throat, trying to drag it down.

It bit at him, snapping jaws filled with too many teeth. He dodged, barely, and slammed his blood-coated palm against its flank. A burst of bloodfire exploded across its hide, searing it, and this time it screamed —a high, keening sound that made the torches flicker.

I charged, flames wreathing my arms, and drove the sword into its shoulder.

It threw me off.

I hit the ground hard, ribs aching, vision swimming—but I rolled and came up again, battered but not broken.

The chimera reeled, now missing one eye, its movements more erratic. Kieran moved like a shadow himself, blood-slick and focused, cutting another sigil into the stone with his dagger, flinging it wide to trap the beast in a burning ring.

It howled and flailed, trapped.

We didn’t stop.

Couldn’t stop.

Strike after strike. Fire after fire. Shadow and blood and steel and fury. It lunged one more time—desperate, ragged, but still monstrous. I dodged too late. A claw tore across my shoulder, burning deep. I screamed but didn’t stop, spinning with the sword and driving it into its flank.

Kieran roared behind me, his blood igniting midair in a brilliant flare. His shadows lashed forward—twisting, snapping—binding the chimera’s legs with living darkness. It stumbled, slammed into the cavern wall, stone cracking behind it.

“Now, Flower!” he shouted.

I raised my free hand and threw every last drop of flame I had left.

It wasn’t a neat stream—it was chaos, heat, rage.

It hit the creature square in the chest. It shrieked, flailing, but Kieran was already there, dagger in hand, carving another sigil into the stone beneath it. The ground flared red.

The chimera reared back—on fire, bound, bleeding from half a dozen wounds—and tried to scream, but choked on its own blood.

Still, it didn’t fall.

It charged.

One last time.

I didn’t think.

I ran toward it.

Sword raised. Flame trailing my skin like a comet’s tail. I ducked under its massive swing, leapt, and drove the blade into its neck.

Black ichor exploded over me. I hit the ground hard. Rolled. Kieran's shadows grabbed the sword where I dropped it mid-fall and flung it back into my hand.

Together, we faced it again.

Bleeding. Dying.

But still alive.

Eventually, the monster faltered. Its movements grew sluggish, breath hitching, limbs dragging. It collapsed under its own weight, wheezing, bleeding from a dozen wounds where flame and bloodfire had torn it open.

Kieran stood with his chest heaving, his shadows twitching like they didn’t trust the stillness. I was shaking, bruised, and burned along one arm, the sword almost too heavy to lift.

The chimera raised its head.

Its remaining eyes were hollow now—voids flickering with dying magic.

And it spoke.

"End it," it rasped. "Please, no more time. No more pain. Let me sleep."

I stared, frozen. Its voice was barely a whisper, but it echoed like thunder.

Kieran stepped forward, but I put a hand on his arm.

“I’ve got it,” I said, voice raw.

I moved toward the beast. It didn’t flinch.

It bowed its massive head.

I raised the sword.

And with a single, merciful thrust, I drove the blade through the center of its skull.

It exhaled—one last, shuddering breath—and went still.

The moment stretched. Silence returned.

And then I fell to my knees.

My hands were slick with blood, my lungs burning. My shoulders shook, and I couldn’t hold it in any longer.

I sobbed.

Sobs that tore out of me like they’d been caged for years. Sobs of relief, grief, rage, exhaustion.

Kieran knelt beside me, one arm curling around my back, keeping me from breaking completely.

We were alive.

But something inside me had shifted.

And I wasn’t sure it would ever shift back.