Page 54 of The Midnight Death Match
The spiral chamber closes behind us with a deep grinding rumble, sealing the archive once more beneath layers of ancient stone.
For a few relieving moments, the air feels lighter. But it doesn’t last. The further we move from the core, the more pressure builds. Subtle at first, like hands brushing at my shoulders. Then stronger, like a weight that settles in the middle of my back blades and coils beneath my ribs.
The ruins themselves hum, not unlike my sword, but it feels like something older. It could be breathing, watching.
I glance back, the skin on my back tingling.
The stone archways blur faintly at the edges, the twisting architecture shifting in the corner of my vision even when I try to hold it still.
Lys steps beside me, speaking so low only I can hear. “It knows you now.”
I stiffen. “What does that mean?”
He tilts his head, smiling like someone savoring a private joke. “The city isn’t dead, Eira. It never was.”
As if in answer, the ground beneath us vibrates with an unsettling pulse, as if a second heartbeat echoes under our feet.
Harek shifts protectively closer to me.
Einar mutters a curse. “We need to get out of here.”
The others quicken their pace, but I glance one last time into the distorted corridors. In the darkness between the broken pillars, for a single breath, I see faint twin eyes gleaming back. It isn’t fae, but something else entirely.
The question is, what?
Chapter
Twenty
My inner wolfhas been pushing to come out for the entirety of our trek back. I’m growing wearier by the moment, and it won’t be long before I can’t fight my other nature any longer.
The ruins rise around us in jagged spires as we move back toward camp, the now-smaller group walking in tense silence after what we pulled from the archive.
I lag behind, my bones aching with the intent to transform into a beast. Not only that, but my mind is also all over the place. Too many pieces rattle around—what we’ve seen, what we’ve only begun to understand. The cursed ritual, broken bloodlines. The creeping pulse of Courtsview that still lingers beneath my skin.
Lys drifts back beside me as if summoned by my thoughts. His steps are quiet, and he doesn’t speak right away. We walk in silence for a few minutes before he speaks. “It’s unsettling, isn’t it? When the foundation cracks beneath the story you were raised to believe.”
I glance at him. “You sound like someone who enjoys watching it happen.”
A faint smile curves at his mouth. “Not enjoy. Understand.”
“Same difference.”
“I beg to differ.”
“You would.”
The others keep walking ahead, giving us a strange pocket of privacy inside the sprawling ruin.
Lys’s voice lowers, coaxing. “You assumed you were born of two ancient bloodlines—one hunter, one wolf. But your mother…”
I freeze. “What do you think you know about her?”
He watches my face carefully. “She wasn’t born wolf.”
My heart skips. “What? No. She’s part of Harek’s pack.”
“She was bitten. Infected, and not by accident.” His voice is gentle, almost soothing.
