Page 79 of Fading Sun

It has the potential to become a tomb.

“We’re not going to be crushed,” I say, and I reach for my magic, releasing a beam of it toward the giant, smug Buddha.

The light strikes the stone, and I push as hard as I can, willing the Buddha to combust.

Nothing happens.

I push harder, laser focused.

Still, nothing.

I release my hold on it, disappointed to see that my magic barely left a mark. The stone’s a bit darker where I hit it, but there isn’t so much as a dent.

The chamber groans.

My stomach rises in my throat at the sight of the walls moving closer.

“Let me try,” Damien says, stepping forward.

I move aside, praying his air magic will do a better job at this than my sun magic.

He raises his hands, and a gust of wind rushes toward the statue, whipping through the chamber with the force of a hurricane. Dust and debris are lifted from the ground, and the torches flicker wildly. He’s creating a storm inside the chamber, leaving Morgan, Blaze and I clinging to each other so we don’t fall over.

“Come on,” Damien growls, his eyes narrowing with concentration.

The wind intensifies, forming a vortex around the Buddha. But he remains immovable, his serene expression unwavering.

Sweat beads on Damien’s forehead from the effort of maintaining the storm.

Meanwhile, the walls are inching closer, the grinding sound of stone on stone growing louder.

Panic claws at my insides, and I tighten my grip around Morgan’s arm. We’re running out of time.

“It’s not working,” I shout over the roaring wind.

“Damien, stop!” Morgan yells, although her voice is barely audible over the storm.

He doesn’t hear us.

So, I release my hold on Morgan’s arm and run to Damien. My hair whips around my face, and I can barely keep my eyes open, but I push forward, incentivized by the walls that are moving closer and closer.

Finally, I’m next to him, reaching for his arm. The contact sends a jolt through me, the intensity of the feeling of his skin on mine almost overwhelming.

“Damien, stop!” I beg, and for a moment, he doesn’t respond.

Then, slowly, the wind dies down, the debris settling as the storm weakens into nothing.

His breathing is ragged and heavy, matching mine. The grinding of the walls moving closer fades into the background.

“Amber...” he says, turning to look at me, his blue eyes dark and stormy.

My heart pounds, and I want to lean in, to savor how close I’m feeling to him.

Before I can, I’m yanked out of the moment by a dagger flying a few feet away from me. I jump back, startled, as the pointy end hits the Buddha straight in the stomach.

It thuds against the stone and clatters down to the floor.

Blaze strolls over to it and walks the few steps up onto the altar to pick it up, craning his neck to examine the spot where he hit the Buddha.

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