Then I forced myself to turn away and slipped into the dark.
The stairway descended into shadow, each step stealing a little more warmth from the air. The deeper I went, the dimmer the light became, the pale glow of the cavern fungi fading behind me until only bare stone surrounded the path.
The walls pressed closer here, the passage winding deeper into the place where mercy was judged—and more often than not, denied.
I did not know whether I meant to free Xylos or only to see him. I only knew that if I turned back now I would never forgive myself for choosing comfort over conscience.
When I reached the stone-framed glass enclosure, Vesuva slithered forward.
Both heads lifted at once, twin tongues flicking against the glass. Emerald and amethyst eyes fixed on me as she watched in silence, her dark scales rippling with each restless shift.
I raised a trembling hand and pressed it to the chilled surface. My fingertip traced a slow arc—hesitant at first, then steadier. Vesuva mirrored the motion on the other side of the barrier, her scales sliding softly along the glass as a low, pleased hiss rose from her chest.
“Will you help me?”
Her eyes flared, as if she understood my plea. The tip of her tail flicked towards the opening of the closure and I walked to it hesitantly.
It was not wise to trust an animal deemed aggressive, but I was willing to take the chance.
With a decisive click, the warded lock yielded under my fingers. The door swung wide, and the large serpent poured herself into the hallway.
She was a mass of muscle and shadow, yet she moved with the weightless ease of a nightmare.
Vesuva circled me, her massive form creating a wall of heat and scales that felt more like a sanctuary than a threat.
I lowered my hand to the point where her necks fused and offered her a soft pat.
“Come on,” I breathed.
We moved through the corridors together, the stone beneath Vesuva’s coils whispering with every shift of her body. Dim light skimmed over her scales, catching on muted greens and blacks that moved like living shadow.
At the wrought-iron gates leading into the chamber, Vesuva slowed. Her body drew taut, every coil tightening with quiet tension. Then she pressed forward, forcing her way through the narrow gap between the bars.
The iron screamed.
The sound ripped through the chamber as the gates bent inward, metal groaning as they dragged themselves open. I flinched despite myself, already knowing there would be no hiding the path we had taken.
The chamber beyond stretched wide and oppressive, thick with lingering spirits.
They brushed against my senses in quiet murmurs—not quite voices, not quite thoughts, but something caught between the two. They did not rush me as they had during the Gauntlet, but their presence clung to my skin, raising a slow prickle of unease with every step deeper into the room.
I kept my gaze fixed ahead, refusing to let their grief sink its teeth into me again.
At the far end of the chamber, a narrow strip of sickly light revealed the outline of a stone cell waiting in the gloom.
I hurried ahead, peering in to see Xylos lying motionless on the narrow bench. Dark hair spilled across his brow, his chest rising and falling in a shallow rhythm.
I looked around the cell, but saw no hinge to grasp and no seam to test beneath my fingers. There was nothing crafted that could be forced or undone.
I bit down on my lip, considering whether to call on the untamed spirits again. I did not want a repeat of the Gauntlet.
But Eladaria’s lessons rose in my mind, steadier than instinct—reminding me that power answered patience far more readily than force.
I closed my eyes and lifted my hands, palms open.
The air thickened instantly, pressing against my skin. It felt like stepping beneath deep water, the weight of it tightening around my chest as I tried to draw the spirits closer.
I pushed anyway, pulling on every thread of power I could find.