Page 117 of Frost Like Night
“You have to run too!” I shout over the building roar of the room quivering apart.
But Sir shakes his head. He motions to his legs, bends his knees in a jerk to demonstrate.
He stopped walking on his way into the room, as if the floor grabbed his feet. And itdid.
He hasn’t forgiven Hannah. The room won’t let him leave until he does.
“You have to let her go!” My voice screeches in desperation, my fingers knotted in his shirt. Mather hangs on to Sir’s arm, his eyes cutting between us and the door, the rubble gathering in collapsing bursts, the floor tiles breaking and—
Snow above—the floor is starting to disintegrate, like the other times it swallowed us. But these holes aren’t tunnels to drop us into the next test or even ringed with flame like in the first room—they’re just empty. Just blackness.
“No, Meira.” Sir loosens my fingers from his shirt, still so calm. “I had to letyougo. But I can’t forgive Hannah, especially for the fate she made for you. For all of us.” He shakes his head. “I can’t. I’m sorry.”
Mather balks. “You aren’t . . . no. You have to come with us!”
Sir looks at him.
Puts a hand on his son’s shoulder.
And pushes him toward the door.
Then he meets my eyes.Go,he mouths.
I slam my body into Mather, pinning my arms around him and propelling us toward the door. Gaping holes bar our path, making me tug him back and forth as we stumble in a flailing mess for the exit. Mather staggers along beside me and releases a raw scream that hammers into my heart.
We reach the door and I push Mather through, pausing just once.
The scene behind me is a mess of stones and tiles and yawning holes. In the midst of it all, Sir and Hannah stand, motionless, staring at each other.
A pillar falls, slamming down two paces from me, and I leap through the exit just as the whole floor drops into nothingness.
35
Meira
THE DOOR CLOSESthe moment Mather and I are both through. It whooshes into place a hand’s width from my face as I stand there, blinking away the debris, my chest heaving under labored breaths that might be sobs.
“Meira,” Mather groans.
The sound of my name hauls me out of the protective shield I wore to get us out of there. I lift my hands to my face, shaking my head in a repetitiveNobecause I can’t make any words come out.
“Meira,”Mather repeats, tugging at my arm. I whirl, flinging myself on him, and he holds me as he says all the words I can’t find. “No—maybe he survived—we can go back—”
His possibilities shatter before he even finishes saying them. I close my eyes, forcing each breath to counter the cries that rumble up my throat like waves in a storm.
Light beats against my eyelids, and I almost whimper with gratitude for the distraction.
But when I open my eyes, I only feel emptier.
We’re in a long, narrow hall. The walls are lumpy black rock, the floor is uneven—and at the far end, a halo of light gleams orange and yellow and purple and blue in shifting hues.
“Mather,” I whisper as I step away from him.
He pulls back, his head snapping to follow mine.
“The magic chasm,” he says.
I nod.
