Page 87 of Devour
A brave one.
A foolish one.
The voices continue, but I ignore them. If I dwell on the possibilities—including that I am going mad—I will never make it out of here.
There are no torches on this side of the pit, but there is a set of stairs.
Will this lead down into the drakai pit or a new area? I take one careful step at a time in case I am met with claws and teeth. But while the chill air remains, the uneasy pressure of swirling magic dissipates and finally I can breathe.
That strange feeling must have come from the drakai, then—or some kind of protection spell.
I am almost tempted to turn back and count my blessings when I hear a cough in the distance. Adrenaline spikes, but I realize quickly it was neither a beast nor a guard. The voice was too soft. Too weak.
Another cough.
A low moan.
I continue forward carefully. The stone softens, shifting into squishy mud that sinks between my toes. I cringe and consider turning back a second time. The smell, still sharp and unpleasant, has changed. I try not to breathe out of my nose to avoid the scent, but it doesn’t help.
My stomach sours with the realization that the muck between my toes is not just mud.
“Hello?” someone whispers. I suck in a breath, eyes searching in the darkness. The voice is soft and feminine. My first thought is Astella.
For one fleeting second, my heart soars at the prospect of finding my lost friend, but terror quickly fills me, and I pray it is not her. If she were here—I shake my head. She’s not. She can’t be. She is off in the mountains somewhere, alone and scared but on her way to true freedom.
The scream from my dream echoes in my mind.
No. She’ll find her family and be happy.
I take in a deep breath, and with it, hope for my friend fills my bones.
Astella will live. She will thrive.
I force my feet into the sinking muck, careful I don’t sink too deep to become stuck. I slip and slide a few feet down until I’m met with rusted metal bars.
I slip my torch between the bars, examining what lies beyond the cell walls but I find more mud, nothing else. No one speaks. But I had certainly heard someone.
I curl my fingers around the cool metal and tug slightly. Firm. A wall of bars, blocking me from whatever is beyond. Is it the route out of here and these bars are blocking me from my escape?
Or did I happen upon the dungeons?
I flinch at another cough, this time closer. “Hello?” I whisper.
Stillness stretches through the emptiness.
I wait. And wait. Unable to conjure the courage to speak a second time.
I release the bar and take a step back when finally, I receive my answer.
“Who—” The voice is weak. “Who are you?” they force out.
“I—I am Lina. Who are you?”
My heart is pounding hard. There’s a shuffling sound and the shifting of something in the shadows. Part of me expects a monster. A drakai. A warrior tricking me. A scelp. Anything but the young woman with pale skin and stringy hair, dragging her body through mud to come closer.
Her eyes are dark. Faded. No light left. Her cheeks are sallow. Her arms are so thin I feel they could break at any moment. Is this what I looked like days ago?
“What are you doing here?” Her eyes meet mine and grow large as she takes me in. She rests her cheek in the space between the bars.
