Page 112 of Children of Fallen Gods

His blood, fresh in the newly opened scratches, dripped on my face. He was on top of me, his hands at my throat.

A split second later, and I felt the heat of flames, Max’s cursing as he yanked Vardir away. The tiny cell suddenly was thick with the smell of burning flesh. My own magic tingled at my fingertips. Rot.

Vardir scampered upright, pushing himself against the wall, his eyes glued to me. “They’re coming for us,” he said. “Because ofyou.“

I leapt to my feet. My heart was pounding. Two strides, and I was there before I knew what was happening. Pushing Max aside, and grabbing the sides of Vardir’s bloody face.

“You deserve to die,” my voice said. My voice… but Reshaye’s words. “You locked me up. You tortured me.”

Black rot sizzled on Vardir’s skin, and he let out a raspy, ragged scream. “You will destroy us.”

“Youdestroyed me.You—”

“Stop.” Max pulled me away, and I whirled around to face him.

“He deserves it,” I growled. “You know he does as well as I.”

Fragments of Reshaye’s memories slid through my mind. My open entrails open on a table. A white ceiling. Incredible pain.

“He does,” Max said. “So let him rot here tearing his own face off.”

My body was tensed, uncertain.

You told me the worst thing about being what you are is that you are neither living nor dead, I told it.Let him live that way too. It is the greatest punishment.

Torture. Utter torture.

Reshaye said nothing. But slowly, I felt it concede, and I carefully slipped back into control. I saw Max’s face shift, and I knew he recognized the change immediately.

But we had no time to waste. Vardir let out a shriek, still lying on the ground, scratching at a face now so ruined and bloody that it looked like nothing but a smear of flesh. He was weeping.

“I can’t believe I didn’t see, they’re coming, they’re coming, I can’t believe I didn’t—”

The walls themselves seemed to move all at once, lurching in on us. When had it gotten so dark?

I shot Max a look of alarm. “That’s enough of that,” he muttered, and grabbed me with one hand and pressed the palm of the other to the wall.

And nothing happened.

“Max…”

“I’m trying.”

Again. His palm to the wall.

Nothing.

It was so dark, now. So dark that I was beginning to see movement in the shadows, like ghosts crawling out of the stone carvings.

The hair on the back of my neck stood upright. My heartbeat was rushing.

“Alright, you miserable bitch,” Max muttered. “Enough play.” He pounded on the wall, and then pressed his palm to it. This time, I pressed mine beside his.

Open. Open. Open…

The wall parted, and I breathed a ragged sigh of relief. Max grabbed my hand and the two of us were rushing down those smooth stone hallways — Gods, had I thought they were bright before? Now, what had once been eerie bone-white was ashy and dark, as if smoke-stained. The carvings seemed to shift.

One turn and then another and another. Every hallway looked the same. At one point, Max stopped short, his face snapping off down the hall, frozen.

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