Page 110 of Xantera
“You can run, Saskia,” his voice drifts out from behind me again, heavy footsteps clunking up the stairs, “but I will catch you. You can hide, but I will find you. You can scream, but no one will hear you.”
I WILL, Lucan roars through our bond.I’LL HEAR HER SCREAM!
And then the world trembles as he slams himself into the Wall and a roar tears out of his throat, sending a flock of birds bursting from the nearest hydrangea bush.
Arad’s footsteps pause on the marble staircase, and I’d be willing to bet I’d see surprise flicker across his face if I looked back. But I don’t.
I shoot straight for a second staircase on the opposite side of the terrace, blurring past all those fountains and statues and taking these stairs even faster.
Does the Wall hurt you?I ask through each drumming beat of my heart.
Does the Wall hurt me?Lucan repeats, disbelief cracking in his voice.Do you really think I wouldn’t have clawed through it if my limbs didn’t lock up when I touch it? Do you think I wouldn’t have spent every second trying to climb it if it didn’t make me go blind with pain? Do you think I wouldn’t have torn it apart to get to you? Yes, it hurts me. But this is the most painful thing of all.
Thisas in my death. I know he means it, deep down, even though his mind refuses to conjure up the possibility. His heartbreak winds its way into my veins, fracturing my own heart more and more with every breath.
Lucan thinks I’m going to die.
And if he does, then I guess I have no hope left.
But if today’s my last day, I’m going to leave this world as close to the sun as possible, hoping that Claudia and Eleni are able to complete their tasks while I draw the Third Guardian’s attention elsewhere.
I fling myself onto the next terrace, where even more statues sit between bright pink and purple hyacinths, the stone busts coated in thick layers of moss. Some have weeds growing from them. Some are broken in half, crumbled from years, possibly decades, of neglect. Something about them makes me pause, even more dread sinking deep into my gut as I realize…
But no. Arad’s too close behind, so I don’t stop to investigate, to confirm if my suspicions are true. I just keep sprinting up, up, up, Lucan’s presence keeping my arms and legs pumping, my muscles working, my bones from shattering.
It isn’t until I’m five flights up, on a terrace with too many statues to count, that I have to double over and scrape in deep breaths right in front of one of them.
This statue isn’t formed regally, like the Guardians in the great hall. The face is frightened, eyes squeezed shut, lips parted like it’s eternally about to say one last thing. And although the surface is as gritty as gray stone, there’s too much texture, too many realistic dips and curves of the face to have been made by a mason.
This is a Chosen One.
Fossilized.
They’re all Chosen Ones, fossilized.
This isn’t just a garden. It’s a graveyard.Thegraveyard, where thousands of victims of vampire venom are stretched out before me, below me, and most likely above me. Some of their faces are etched in fear, others peaceful, as if they’re only sleeping.
A sob tumbles out of my mouth, just as Arad emerges from the staircase behind me, not even a hair out of place. He’s not panting like I am, not doubling over in an attempt to catch his breath, but his eyes glitter with calm malice. He knows I can’t go anywhere, not really. He’s just chasing me into exhaustion.
Don’t give up, little nightmare, Lucan begs.Keep going for me. Until the very last moment, keep fighting.
He doesn’t have to tell me twice. If I was alone here, I’d probably curl into a ball right now and accept my fate, but his soul feeds mine, and I spring into another run. Up, up, up, until I finally burst onto the topmost terrace, where the last rays of daylight beat against my face as the open sky welcomes me, and the statues of the Chosen Ones stand so close together, there’s no more room for flowers or anything beautiful at all.
The end of this terrace doesn’t run into the Wall here—it bleeds into the spikes themselves, like a morbid railing, a final rounded balcony jutting out over the edge of Xantera itself.
For a moment, I gape at what I see beyond: trees upon trees coated with mist, the smell like a zap to my senses, waking me up. Moss and pine and freedom.
And the Monster.
I’m closer to him than ever before. Nothing separates us—no stone Wall or ancient locked doors. Just air.
But just as I’m drifting toward the scenery, my foot snags on a crack in the terrace and I almost stumble into a statue that stabs me with pain all over again.
Familiarity constricts my throat. The curve of her cheeks, the slant of her nose. Even if I haven’t seen her in eight years, it’s almost as if only a second has passed.
My mother.
Time slows to a drip. I can tell it’s her, even though her time in the palace must have drained her of all nutrients, her face clearly gaunt even in its fossilized state, her shoulders bony, her arms raised as if she was trying to defend herself. Her mouth open in an everlasting silent scream, and I crash to my knees as my greatest fear stabs me in the chest.
