Page 34 of Courting War
“Are you ready?” he asked, pulling up a boot.
Her sapphire eyes flicked to him. “For what?”
“The first challenge,” he said, “it’s Light’s.” He held up his arm, gesturing to the riddle.
Morrigan crossed her arms and leaned against the wall, her eyes swirling like a deadly ocean storm. Indecipherable thoughts flickered across her face, and a twinkle of purple swirled in that storm. It seemed as if she were deciding something, and she settled on, “Yes, let’s go to the first challenge,” but she said it through her teeth.
“Great.” He cleared his throat. “But first, I need to check in with Cecile.”
Without waiting for a response, he walked toward Cecile’s room—he vowed he would help her—but his eyes caught on the massive magic mirrors on the upper floor of the Common Room. They were playing live broadcasts and replays of the challenges, and Cecile was already playing her first one.
She’d left him.
They played their own games and had different challenges and schedules—although they could face the same challenges at the same time . . . technically—but it still hurt that Cecile hadn’t even tried to strategize with him at all. Kellyn’s stomach twisted, and his heart leaped into his throat. Emmett’s attitude and betrayal were one thing, but Cecile . . .
. . . this broke him.
“You look like you swallowed a jellyfish,” Morrigan said as she marched up to him, rubbing her wrist and cursing.
“Are you hurt?” he asked, ignoring the comment.
“It’s the chain.” She lifted her wrist, showing him the raw skin beneath a flickering chain. One moment it was invisible, the next it appeared solid, connecting the two.
“It likes to play with how much leash it gives us,” she growled. “Shall we head to the mirror then?” Morrigan nodded to thebroadcast depicting Cecile’s task. She was in a shadow maze, being confronted by memories. “Clearly, she’s busy.”
Kellyn grunted but led the way down the stairs to the Hallway of Mirrors.
The gods certainly liked to use mirrors as a conduit for their magic. Broadcasts, portals, communication devices. Anything they wanted really.
The Hallway of Mirrors was formed from a dome and colonnades with nine massive floor-to-ceiling mirrors held against the flowing lava. That alone would’ve made the room impressive, but the looking glasses themselves stopped hearts and claimed souls. Silver light coated the room, emanating from each of the nine massive portals, and the floor vibrated like the body of a strummed guitar. The place sang. Songs of sorcery and heartache. Songs of mystery and trickery. Songs of death and promise.
Each mirror had a unique appearance from the frame to the image depicted in it. One was a wheat field with braided ivy forming the frame—belonging to the God of Harvest. Another frame was constructed from wine goblets and grapes, depicting revelry. Havyn’s mirror was formed from snakes circling skulls and pomegranate fruits.
Morrigan winced as her eyes caught on War’s mirror. Blood dripped down its frame. Depicted on its swirling silver surface was a pile of decaying bodies—a mass grave from a battle.
Andromache’s mirror was framed with braided starlight and planetary rings. Its surface didn’t show an image. Instead, it rippled with glowing gold light.
Kellyn gulped. It was the one he needed to enter.
He sucked in a breath. The statues lining the room filmed him and played it back for the world to see. He needed to look brave. He needed to die with honor. So he reached out a hand to graze the mirror.
It felt so cold it burned, and he slowly pulled his hand away, holding a breath and stifling his pain and emotions. Sweat dripped down his back, his body not responding to his cues. Fear gripped tightly to his throat and burned.
Closing his eyes, he whispered a prayer to Theodra and plunged into the glass. Holding his breath, the texture cascaded over him—a mixture of heat and silk. It burned, but once his whole body was consumed, it felt like a warm hug instead of guttural pain. It felt like a fetus in the womb. Kellyn couldn’t figure out if it calmed his nerves or made the experience more terrifying.
Perhaps it was prophetic that it felt like a womb since Andromache was the light of life—she was the goddess of birth, among other things. All the sisters were both life and death gods. Balances to each other. Andromache was the light of life, Theodra the strife of life and Havyn the end of life.
Stepping out of the barrier, Kellyn fell to his knees in a magical field of silver grass, Morrigan stumbling beside him, and the portal disappeared—trapping them.
Towering at the other end of the field was a building made from river stones, fairy dust, and lizard skins. A wall of sparkling blue and cadmium green rose, dancing against the sky, and glowing yellow orbs drifted in and out of the rocks like fireflies twirling in a cancan dance. Cut into the stones were words, touched by twisting shadows—whisking letters in an unknown language.
They lingered, haunting yet alluring, whispering sinister invitations, and humming shattered love songs.
“What is it?” Kellyn asked, not thinking Morrigan would have an answer.
A muscle ticked in her jaw. “It’s the Droma Labyrinth.” She gulped. “The Great Lost Library.”
“Oh,shit . . .” he said, a knot forming in his stomach. “That’s not good.”
