Page 102 of The Lost Reliquary
But sometimes you gotta do what you gotta do.
I slip in, somewhat less than gracefully, trying to keep my guard up. On one hand, Avery and the other heretics could have made short work of me already, if their invitation had been anything other than sincere. On the other, nothing has gone as hoped lately. Inside the statue there’s a dense darkness, broken only by a large candle on a metal holder. Someone has lit it for me. I am expected.
Map in one hand, candle in the other, I follow the first passage as it arcs gently through the rock, a curve reminiscent of my sickle’s blade. The usual carvings are here, but worn more than others I’ve seen, a weighty feeling of age pressing down. It’s cold too; the chill of the ocean is leaching its way through the rocks. The air tastes of salt as I reach a juncture with three paths. Following the instructions, I take the left tunnel, go down a series of roughly carved stairs, then take another left at the bottom. Silence practically smothers me. I move quietly on purpose, but even the minuscule sounds of my existence seem muted, my heartbeat as distant as if I’d left it waiting on the rocks outside. The shadows stuff my ears until they are full and dissipate my breath in an instant.
It is, I have to admit to myself, a little creepy. The ghost of Tychus whispers warnings as other passages branch off, leading who knows where, but I stick to my instructions. I take the next turn indicated, only to suddenly come face-to-face with a rock wall. Which doesn’t make sense. I know how to read a map. But I must have taken a wrong turn, or else I wouldn’t be staring at nothing. I backtrack to the last place I turned, another juncture where there were two passages.
Except when I get there, I find three.
“Fuck.” My curse is a wan, deadened sound.
I search the note, desperate to figure out where I went wrong. But there’s no getting around it: I’m lost. Which means I have two choices. Stay where I am and hope for a friendly heretic to stumble across me—bad. Or keep going, and hope I end up where I need to be or find a way out. Also bad, but at least I’m doing something.
My attempts at backtracking do not improve. Passages that seem familiar become unrecognizable within minutes, and I’m no longer sure if I’ve been any of the places I thought I had. It’s not exactly panicthat sets in, but rather a simmering irritation. A contemplation of what will happen when Nolan wakes to find me gone, never finds me again, my stupid ass lost forever in the cliffs of Cyprene.
Another turn, find another dead end.
“Ughhh.” The simmer turns into a boil. I want to scream, but I don’t know who might overhear. Something is wrong here, the walls seeming to grow increasingly tight, the air thicker than before.
It’s not panic. I donotpanic.
Moving faster, I take turn after turn, all sense of direction gone. Have I gone deeper into the stone cliffs, or is Cyprene just beyond the wall in front of me? Am I above the city or deep below it?
Suddenly, a glow appears at the end of a long, narrow passage. Sweat beads my brow as I move toward it, ears straining for any bit of sound. I reach a doorway and step through it into a bright, round chamber with a domed ceiling.
In the center, on a pedestal, is a reliquary.
I know it as soon as I see it, though it bears only a passing resemblance to what Tempestra-Innara showed us beneath the Cathedral. This one is more bulbous, with an emerald-studded base and a silver stopper. Blood fills it less than halfway, dark and viscous.
Oh, this has got to be a trap. I scan the chamber, but there’s nothing else, no one. No instruction as to what I should do now.
But maybe I don’t need it. Maybe thisisthe instruction. Is this the heretics’ way of telling me they trust me? Giving me the reliquary without giving away their identities? Even if I fail, or if I’m caught, the only thing I can betray is their location, and that barely.
Cautious, I approach the pedestal, expecting each step to bring an attack, a warning. But there’s nothing. No ambush, no traps, and suddenly the reliquary is only inches away.
I reach for it.
“Oh, Lys…”
The voice comes from all around, freezing the blood in my veins with surprise.
With recognition.
Across the chamber, the stone begins to ripple. A familiar figureappears, stepping forward with an expression of disappointment that slips between my ribs like a blade.
Tempestra-Innara, my blood mother.
Here in Cyprene.
Their mouth hangs down at the corners, eyes brimming with heartbreak. “Oh, daughter. I never thought it possible.”
The world shifts, its edges turning soft. Spots flicker at the boundary of my vision as panic drives the breath from my lungs.
Tempestra-Innara’s features turn angry. No,furious, teeth baring like a rabid dog as they take another step toward me. “I never thought that one of my own children could betray me like this.”
There’s no choice now, no lies that will get me out of this mess. Only commitment. I drop the candle and grab the reliquary, then tear the stopper free as I raise it to my lips to drink.
The blood does not sing.
