Page 95 of Hunted in the Shadows
Sylvia’s eyes widened, withering with a mixture of concern and disgust as she glanced between us. She flew out of my way with a muttered, “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
With a quick, practiced motion, I made a small incision on my palm. Blood welled up, dark and glistening, and I pressed it to the rough stone door.
For a moment, nothing happened. The three of us held our breaths, only the unnatural and enchanting birdsong of the clearing outside filtering into the heavy silence.My blood leaked in a thin line from beneath my hand, still pressed to the central carving. A faint, almost imperceptible reaction ignited—the etching flickered briefly, a dim green light pulsing through them before fading again.
After waiting another minute, I pulled my hand back and wiped it on the hem of my shirt.
“It’s not enough,” Cliff said, rolling up his left sleeve.
He gestured for the knife from me, ignoring Sylvia’s flinch as he made a careful cut along his forearm. Blood payments were a fragile art. The incision had to be superficial enough not to kill you but deep enough to draw the amount required—deep enough to be fucking painful.
Cliff grit his teeth, hissing as the blade sliced cleanly through his skin. Blood welled to the surface and spilled, pooling on the ground in morbid droplets. He turned his arm over, letting more trickle onto the base of the doorway.
Sylvia hovered over his shoulder to watch the gaping wound with a healer’s scrutiny. I could see her hands flexing, ready to prepare a healing spell—
The blood shivered on the ground—movingof its own accord. It trailed in precise lines upward along the stone door, filling in the delicate carvings of stardust. It continued, pulled by unseen magic into the weeping moon until every line was flushed with crimson. The ancient Fae bordering the archway glowed chartreuse, the light intensifying until the entire cave hummed with energy.
With a deep, resonant groan, a door cracked in half along invisible, jigsaw seams and swung inward to reveal a dark passage. The air was colder on the other side, a faint breeze ruffling hair off my face.
“See?” Cliff drawled grimly. “Piece of cake.”
That seemed to snap Sylvia’s tether. “Give me your arm,” she said urgently. She wheeled closer to him and ignited her healing spell. A burst of blue light flooded her hands as she pressed them to his skin on either side of the wound. Within a minute, her magic had knit the wound closed without even a scar.
“Thank you,” Cliff muttered, flexing his hand as the last of the pain faded.
“Once again, I loathe to think of what you boys ever did without me.”
Cliff shrugged. “Stitches aren’t so bad once you get used to them.”
Although her answering shudder of disgust was exaggerated, I could see the broader tension lining her posture—it was hard to ignore when she was one of the only sources of light. I couldn’t blame her. If there were fairies waiting past the door, there was no telling what sort of welcome we could expect.
But as we followed Sylvia through the opening, darkness was the only thing that lay ahead.
Stone creaked behind us. Cliff swung the light around in time for us to see our only visible exit closing up. Sylvia gasped and made a beeline for the shifting stone, but the opening was completely sealed when she reached it.
There was nothing on the cavern wall. No indication that there had been anything at all.
Her curse echoed off the stone, followed by an incantation. A small volley of icicles shattered against the wall and splintered on the ground uselessly.
“Hey—easy.” Cliff felt along the sealed stone, but he could only confirm what I suspected: “There’s no getting back through this.”
As he pulled away to search the cavern, I nodded for Sylvia to follow. “Deep breath,” I murmured to her. “The only way is forward.”
She gave a stiff, wordless nod.
With our penlights and Sylvia’s illumination, we quickly discovered that the curved chamber didn’t run very deep. Sylvia’s flight was erratic as she searched our stone surroundings up and down, but evidently, there were no openings big enough to squeeze through.
The cavern ended in another door that looked exactly like the one we’d come through, etched with a weeping moon and shooting stars.
“This is a different constellation,” Sylvia murmured, tracing the stars’ paths with her fingertip. “The other was the Eternal Chalice. This… this is the Sylph’s Path.”
“The runes look the same,” I said. No need for her to translate what the engraving demanded. “Guess that makes it my turn.”
Distress lined her features as I readied the knife over my arm. I offered her a reassuring smile before carefully plunging the blade across. Grimacing, I allowed my blood to spill, stomach churning as the door eagerly soaked up the offering.
Sure enough, the Ancient Fae glowed in acceptance, and the door pulled itself apart to allow us entry.
Sylvia was already halfway through her healing chant by the time she reached my arm, as though she couldn’t bear the idea of me being in pain for a moment longer than necessary. In her haste, the faintest pink line stayed behind on my arm, but I gently pulled away when she tried to make a second pass.
