I crouched beside a shallow depression in the stone floor where murky water had collected.
“Any reflective surface will work, right?”
Meliory hummed. “Yes.”
I looked at the scabbed wound in my palm and bit down on it until the skin broke once more. Fresh blood welled up, pooling into my open hand. I clenched my fingers until a single drop dripped down my knuckles and fell into the water.
I pressed the brown leaf against the surface of the bloodied water. “What do I do?”
“Just feel,” he whispered, his face pressed tight against the gap. “Think of where you wish to be.”
My eyes quickly moved to the guards, who now had their backs facing our cells, and a breath of relief passed my lips.
I closed my eyes, imagining the outside of the cells.
The water began to shimmer, a ghostly glow rippling through the puddle and washing away the reflection of my own face. The surface stilled until the image of the corridor’s concrete walls filled the shape of the water, clear as if I were standing in the hall myself.
I guided the vision of the vine through the passageway, my mind recording the placement of every silver-clad guard and the rhythm of their heavy footsteps.
I peered into the dark recesses of the neighboring cells, searching for any other souls lost to this pit, but found only empty stone.
“There are only three guards,” I whispered, my eyes frantically chasing the vision.
The vine drifted toward an iron door situated a few cells down. It stood stark and imposing, yet as I studied it, I realized it was devoid of guards and heavy locks.
“The door is unlocked.”
Meliory let out a low breath.
I urged the vine to climb the height of the door, desperate to see if any traps or hidden mechanisms lay in wait above the frame.
I needed to be sure.
Just as the vine’s eye slipped toward the center of the iron door, the reflection shuddered.
For a single breath the image warped, the corridor twisting across the surface of the water like a painting dragged through wet ink—then the vision collapsed in on itself. The pale glow bled out of the puddle until nothing remained but cloudy water and the thin ribbon of red drifting from my palm.
I froze, staring down at it.
He had blown the leaf away.
I turned to him with a frown. “Why would you do that?”
Meliory was already watching me, his expression drawn tight beneath the grime.
“What are you doing over there?”
I lunged forward, dropping over the puddle and blocking it from view with my body as my fingers scraped across the stone for the fallen leaf. The brittle thing crumbled slightly in my grip before I shoved it into my pocket, praying the faint shimmer still clinging to the water would fade before the guards reached the bars.
I plunged both hands into the puddle, smearing the blood through the water and bringing it quickly to my mouth.
“I am drinking,” I snapped when they reached the bars. “Since it seems you do not wish to keep me alive with service.”
One guard scoffed, nudging his companion with an armored elbow. “Go and fetch the creature a cup of water so she stops whining.”
The guard had barely taken two steps toward the corridor when the prison trembled.
“What in the Maker’s name was that?” he gasped, his body freezing mid-step.