Page 135 of A Crown of Tears and Treason
Who would store sacred texts in such conditions?
Cautiously, I approached the banister and gazed down. I was two bloody levelsabovethe slithering vines. And what awaited me below…
They looked like the ancient water snakes from the Bone Bridge legends. Monstruos tendrils twisted together, groaning where they touched. Their surface shined with vile moisture that smelled rotten.
My hands tightened on the satchel’s strap; I was repulsed by the viscous layer on the banister. Nothing and no one could save me from passing through those vines.
You could always go back.
No.
I couldn’t.
I had to know.
Who killed my parents–and if the Blood Brotherhood Clan, who I was supposed to lead, had anything to do with it.
Smothering whatever instinct roared at me to go back to the surface, I gripped the banister. My skin instantly recoiled at the sensation. Moist and gelatinous and warm. So very warm and disgusting.
I steeled myself against the revulsion threatening to lock my feet onto the floor and swung my legs over, toward the chasm waiting below. A gust of warm, decaying air gagged me. Underneath, the black pool of vines coiled, as if asking for a sacrifice.
I clenched my jaw and placed the sphere in my satchel. The darkness took over, punctuated only by the horrid sounds spinning underneath me. The hairs on my body stood up as I twisted my body so I faced the column.
With nothing but experience and scraps of courage, I climbed down. My stomach roiled, threatening to spill. Every single bone and muscle in my body cringed, begging me to climbback up, not down. I’d never fought against myself so hard in my entire life.
My feet searched for every nook and cranny they could wedge into without slipping.
The spiraling column became a pole I held onto for dear life as I slid down, the carved motifs helping me find leverage.
The air turned hotter.
When the hiss of the vines was so close I couldn’t stop my shivers, I finally caved and took out the sphere of light, angling it shakily behind me. I flinched and almost dropped it when the closest vine, twice as thick as Owyn’s powerful body, sprung up right in my face. As if it had detected an intruder.
I stood as still as my fear allowed, even as sweat poured down my temples.
The seconds ticked by.
Finally, the vine collapsed back in the nest with its petrifying brethren.
I didn’t even allow myself one sigh of relief, scared I might rattle them into suffocating me.
How, in all of Malhaven, was I going to get past them? And towhere?
I looked down. Beyond the twisting tendrils, I could only see bottomless darkness. I could only hope there wasn’t a frightening creature waiting below.
But I couldn’t go downwithoutknowing.
I stood perfectly still as I assessed the horrifying situation. Soon, my eyes saw the pattern. Every fifteen twists, the vines shifted so that a little crevice formed between them. It was big enough that I could barely squeeze through, but it only lasted a breath.
I had to jump and hope gravity was fast enough to pull me down quickly enough.
I knew how to fall without breaking anything–as long as I was aware of what awaited underneath. I needed to estimate the drop.
Praying to forgotten gods, I swallowed thickly and waited for the next gap in the vines.
Twelve.
Thirteen.
