Page 56 of Poison Sun

And so, I do. I tell him the word—claritas—that needs to be said to reverse the spell. I explain the materials the flask is made from. I tell him how the vapor inside it is witch blood, soaked overnight in the light of the full moon.

“My blood is already inside it,” I finish. “All you have to do is uncork the flask under the full moon, let it sit overnight, and the vapor will be ready to use the next day.”

“Fascinating,” he says, and he refocuses on me, considering it. “But what am I to do after using the vapor, when I don’t have more witch blood to refill it with?”

An excellent question.

“Find another witch who’s willing to fill it with their blood?” I suggest.

“And what if no witches come my way to do this for me?”

“I don’t know.” I huff, exasperated now. “You told us we could pay the toll with a magical object of our choosing. Not with a magical object that you like or that you want. I’m giving you the Wraithmist Flask, which is a powerful magical object. I’ve fulfilled your request. Now, let us cross the bridge so we can enter the Valley of the Vanished and be on our way.”

The Kobold stares at me for a moment longer, his expression unreadable.

As much as I want to glance at Blaze to see his reaction, I refuse to look away from the Kobold. I won’t let this monster see me as weak or easily fooled.

Just as I think he’s about to say no, he slowly steps aside. “Very well,” he says. “Proceed. But remember, the journey ahead is fraught with peril. You’ll need more than magic to survive the Valley of the Vanished.”

Wow.

It worked.

He’s letting us pass.

Blaze reaches for my hand, and sparks dance across my skin. “Come on,” he says, his voice low, his eyes locked on mine as we make our way toward the bridge.

We did it.

We passed the Kobold’s test.

But suddenly, I can’t focus on anything other than the river rushing below the bridge.

Given my affinity to fire, water isn’t exactly something I love. And is it just me, or is the water moving faster than it was when we first got here?

“It’s okay,” Blaze says, bringing me back into focus. “We’ve got this.”

He doesn’t look any more thrilled about the water than I feel, but the Kobold is waiting, and I don’t want to give him time to change his mind.

Blaze’s grip tightens, as if assuring me we’re safe, and we walk to the start of the bridge together, staring out at it.

The bridge isn’t wide enough for us to walk side by side. Plus, given its lack of handrails, it’s best to stay as far away from the edges as possible.

“I’ll go first,” Blaze says. “To test out each plank and make sure it’s sturdy.”

Before I can argue, he’s stepping onto the bridge, his hand no longer holding mine. He moves slowly, carefully, testing different places on each plank before putting his full weight on them.

I watch his every move, trying to memorize the safe spots.

Then, I follow.

One step at a time, I tell myself. We’ve got this.

The wood creaks ominously under our weight, the water splashing up from the river rushing below. Its mist coats my skin, and its roar fills my ears, my lungs tightening as I imagine plunging down and sinking into its icy depths.

“Morgan,” Blaze says my name, and I realize I’ve stopped walking, frozen as I stare down at the river. “We’re almost there.”

A glance ahead shows that we’re definitely not almost there. We’re not even halfway there.

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