Page 42 of Oath-Maker

I felt along the door’s outlines again, searching desperately for a lever or lock orsomething.

Nothing. There was nothing.

I had accepted last night that I might die down here. I had accepted that Lucius would win this alone. But I didn’t think I’d die from one of Soltar’s rivers peeking through into this cell.

I pounded on the door again. My skin cracked and bled as my pulse raced. I cried out as I hit the door at a weird angle that slammed the cuff against my wrist bone.

“For fuck’s sake,” I hissed as I whipped around again to face my coming end. “I didnotcome this far just to die here.”

Think, Ayla. Think.

But there was nothing. Just a room quickly filling up with Soltar’s molten magic river, a door that wasn’t really a door, and me, powerless. Literally powerless without my magic. It wasn’t like I could fight molten magic with my bare hands.

I squared up anyway as resignation started to crest along my awareness.

This is the end.

Another tremor shook the entire space. I pressed my body against the stone brick wall to steady myself. But in addition to widening the tear in this room, the tremor also sent more debris spewing down around me. A large chunk of the ceiling fell, tumbling into the stream of molten magic, sending it spraying several feet. The tiniest drop landed on my arm, eating through my clothes and skin in a second. I cried out and examined the wound. Clean cut, cauterized by magic. No blood. But shiny gold liquid had drilled into my skin, and itburned.

Burned like light sickness would have. Except I wasn’t a demon. Not like I had grown up believing.

Tears stung my eyes with the pain. This would be a painful way to go, and it was theonlyway to go.

My chest heaved with panicked breaths as I braced myself for—I wasn’t even sure what I was bracing for. The end? Pain?

I closed my eyes as I reached acceptance, but not a moment later, a crash sounded followed by the shattering of stone. My eyes slammed open to find a hole in the wall on the opposite side of the stream of molten magic and two very welcoming faces.

“Hurry,” Ian said as he held his hand out to me. He stepped as close as he dared to the molten stream, outfitted in paladin armor and his celestial sword strapped to his waist. Jessa was behind him, watching their backs. She was dressed the same—for battle, maybe the last one.

I pressed off the wall, my breath catching in my throat with fear and emotion, tears falling down my cheeks. I couldn’t help it. The adrenaline, my lack of magic, the tremors outside and the very real danger here in this brick cell.

“I’m so happy to see you two.” I crossed the few steps to the molten stream and reached for Ian’s hand. He leaned over and grabbed one of my wrists and inspected the cuffs.

“Anti-magic?” he asked.

I nodded, our brown gazes meeting. “I hope you can take them off.”

Ian squeezed my wrist and helped me over the stream so I wouldn’t fall into it. The force of Soltar’s power slammed into me as I crossed it, sending me tumbling into Ian. He caught me in his strong arms and I couldn’t help but wrap mine around him. Just for a moment.

My friends. My paladins.

The weight of the last few days fell heavily and hard like an anvil right on top of me. Jessa caught the moment and ran over to wrap her arms around us both. When the moment had passed, we extricated ourselves from one another and I messily wiped the rest of the tears from my face.

Ian grabbed my hands, revealing the cuffs to view. He inspected them carefully before shaking his head. “I don’t know, Ayla. These are different than the ones the Order used to use.”

“I’ve got it.” Jessa withdrew lockpicks from a case tied to her belt where she kept other provisions for fighting—a dagger and a healing salve amongst them. “Here.”

She went to work on the cuffs. They had the smallest of keyholes, but Jessa’s fine instruments fit. Within a few moments, there was a resounding click on each cuff and they fell away.

It was only then, with myownmagical awareness now fully intact, that the force of power from Soltar barreled over me. I staggered again, reaching out for Jessa and Ian.

“Let’s get her out of here,” Ian said. And none too soon, as another tremor from the surface widened the molten magic stream.

They led me out of the cells and toward a stairwell to the surface. Not a single guard remained, having either been already disposed of and left unconscious by Ian and Jessa or, I assumed, preoccupied on the surface.

“Lucius?” I asked as we climbed what felt like endless flights of stairs. Just how deep below the surface had the Guardian locked me away?

Ian nodded toward the ceiling of the stairwell, but I gathered he meant the surface. “Squaring off against the Guardian if I had my guess. He’s still healed—Merek kept his word.”

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