We don’t stop here, though. She continues pulling me past the inner sanctum and through another door at the back, behind the pit of glowing coals.
This room is icy cold and pitch black.
She drags me toward the back, to the stone slab against the wall covered by a white sheet. The form is long, with peaks at each end. I squint in the darkness. A nose and lips. I blink rapidly. Is that a body beneath the sheet?
“Come, Lina, meet the Ancient One.”
My eyes flare.
She rips the sheet off of the slab, revealing an old man lying flat on his back, eyes closed with a coin on each. His skin is pure white. Surely—surely he is not alive?
I watch carefully—no sign of breath.
“Is he dead?” I whisper.
“No. Not yet. Or perhaps, not anymore.” She shrugs, as if it makes no difference at all. “Come.”
She waves me forward. Ivar shoves me from behind, ensuring I obey.
I don’t fully understand what’s happening, but deep in my gut, I know this is wrong. Evil. Something that cannot come to be.
Don’t let them cut you.
The voice is softer than Amora’s was before, but I don’t stop to question it. I listen. I twist to flee from this strange fate. When Ivar grabs me, I thrash against him with every ounce of strength I can muster. I buck and throw my head back against Ivar’s nose.
There’s a crack. He curses but does not release me. Warm liquid rushes down my back. He twists and throws me to the ground, but I don’t care because it means I’m farther from the dead man.
Ivar crushes me against the floor.
“Have you become weak, Ivar? You cannot even restrain a Drahkita?” Blythe growls in annoyance.
“She’s stronger than I expected,” he growls but then readjust his hold on my wrists and pulls me back to my feet.
“If we can’t control her, we’ll have to bleed her out now.”
“No!” Ivar says. “I can control her.” To prove his point, he jerks me against his chest and crushes my arms down. I twist, but I’m unable to move.
Blythe approaches, blade in hand. Her eyes glow red now.
I close my eyes and begin to pray. To a god, to Astella, to Amora. Anyone who will listen.
“You’re searching so deeply for meaning,” Blythe tells me. “It’s not here. Sometimes, life is just shit. You’re going to die alone. No one will remember you. No one will grieve you. And your blood will fuel the destruction of everything you believe in.”
“No,” I say. Not because I don’t believe her, but because I refuse to give her what she wants. She wants me to make it easy on her. She wants me to give in.
“There is no one left to love you,” she croons as she lifts the tip of the blade to my forehead and carefully brushes the hair from my eyes, forcing me to still. Forcing me to consider her words.
“Wrong.” The voice booms through the inner sanctum as the door flings wide.
We all turn to watch the newcomer. My stomach twists in a strange emotion. A masked warrior—Haze, I realize quickly. I don’t even understand what I feel for him anymore.
But Haze is not alone. He’s dragging a prisoner along with him. A tiny thing in rags, with dark hair and almond eyes, covered in mud.
For a moment, I think it’s the girl from the dungeon—alive.
My soul crashes to my feet when I realize it’s not her.
It’s Astella.
