Page 47 of Curse of Darkness
* * *
The entranceto the Underworld stands atop the island’s peak. It’s a long winding staircase carved of the same marble as the statuary. Deep within it beats the heart of a Hallow, I’d swear it. It’s like an ancient pulse buried deep beneath the earth’s core, one that sucks at me, rather than offering succor.
I’ve never felt anything like it.
The Gates to the Underworld.
The Gates to Darkness.
I’ve been focusing so much on getting Thiago back that I haven’t truly considered what I’m facing.
“Climbing out of here is going to be a bitch,” Finn says, stalking into the darkness ahead of me. “My thighs are protesting at the mere thought of it.”
I don’t know what’s more unnerving: That the gateway to the primordial Darkness lies ahead of us, or that with every level we descend, torches flicker to life on the walls as if someone is fully aware we’re coming.
The temperature plunges a degree with every curve of the stairs.
Soon my breath is fogging the air and I can’t stop myself from shivering.
I’m a daughter of a summer queen. Summer is in my blood. This is a bad sign.
“I’m fairly certain my balls just tucked tail and ran,” Finn says, his exhale misting the air as he rubs his arms. “Indeed, my toes might join them.”
Summoning my magic, I set warming spells into his cloak and boots, and then mine.
“It’s not going to catch fire, is it?” he asks.
“That only happened one time.”
“Memorable though, Vi. It’s not the sort of thing you forget. I had to throw myself into a water trough.”
“I can remove the spell,” I tell him sweetly.
He runs his tongue over his teeth. “I trust you.”
“Good. Keep walking.”
We pass an ice-blue statue as we descend. It’s a fae male sitting with his back to the wall, his knees drawn up to his chest.
Not a statue.
Finn holds his sword on the stranger as we circle past it, and with every step I swear he’s going to look up and attack us.
But we pass by without incident, every level taking us down into a cold that’s starting to hurt the lungs.
“Vi.” Finn breathes the word into the frost-tinged world.
“We keep going.” I surge ahead, thighs burning on the never-ending stairs.
Nothing is going to stop me. Not now I have my husband’s soul in my sights.
* * *
I can barely feelmy fingers and toes by the time we make our way down to the bottom of the pit. My blood slides through my veins like viscous honey, and it’s difficult to breathe, even with my warming spells.
The only thing keeping me going is that hypnotic drumbeat pulsing through me in time to my heartbeat, as if the Hallow can sense me. It’s a smoky song of allure, a curiosity. If I didn’t know any better, I’d almost say it feelsalive.
But the second I catch a glimpse of the cavern ahead of us, all my bodily concerns vanish.
