Page 22 of Prince of Ruin

Wake up. Wake up. Wake up.

A giant black form drops from the tree branches above, and I jump back, a scream clawing at my throat. The dark form stands on its hind legs and spreads black, membranous wings, one of which has a fresh wound. It’s the bat Dad caught.

I shove my glasses up, making sure my eyes aren’t playing tricks on me in the dark.

“You came back,” it hisses, tucking its wings in. I stumble back, tripping and falling on my ass. I forgot how terrifying the beast looked. It’s easily eight feet tall, with large black eyes and an upturned snout. Its large ribbed pointed ears are perked, probably picking up vibrations and sounds even I can’t sense. Its eyes flash in the darkness, twin orbs paralyzing me in place as it walks closer—no,crawls—on its hind feet and wings.

It looks at Mom and hisses, “It’s about time you brought him.”

Mom lifts their chin. “I wanted him to be ready. Now go, take him before someone else finds him.”

The bat turns toward me.

“Wait—what?” I cast a panicked look at Mom, but they’re completely collected.

“I’ll be at the caves by dawn, Clav. Remember what I said.Pretendto remember.”

I stare at the approaching bat. “P-please don’t take me.”

“The colony is waiting for you.” It steps closer. “To make the sacrifice.” Its lips curl over fangs that could sink into my carotid and drain my blood. “We need you, sovereign.”

I turn to leap back into the bog, but claws dig into my shoulder and I’m lifted off the ground. My stomach swoops without the feel of the firm ground beneath my feet, and I wrench and pull, glancing down at Mom as they become smaller and smaller below. Through the bit of moonlight breaking through the clouds, I can see Mom just staring at me, worried while pressing their mouth into a firm line as they nod, telling me—or themself—that this is what has to be done. The beast carries me higher until we’re soaring above the dead, wiry trees and I can see the entire forest at a glance.

I stop struggling—the fall back down would be lethal at this point—and instead gape at the dark, jagged forest below that stretches on for miles and miles toward a spikey mountain range where many of the spikes are capped with snow. This is definitely a different world. Indiana doesn’t have mountains likethese. We seem to be headed toward the tallest mountain of them all, except no snow caps this one. Instead, orange lava crests the spikes, seeming to pierce the gray clouds above while smoke billows out of its throat.

A fucking volcano.

And we’re flyingstraight toward it.

Clav

The smell of sulfur grows heavier in the air the closer we fly toward the volcano. The trees become more dead and sparse as we near the mountain until there’s no vegetation, just the evidence that the sun rarely shines here and volcano ash has buried whatever life used to grow.

The bat creature soars toward a cliff face of the volcano, and as we near, I notice the mouth of a cave. A strange familiarity hits me in the chest so hard I stop breathing. Almost like…I’ve seen this place before. But there’s no way. Nowhere in my memory did I ever leave my home to travel to spikey snow-capped mountains and massive caves and a forest that looks like they were taken out of a horror book. Could what Mom said about me having a past life as a Fae be true? Vague images of long hikes at the break of dawn with warriors wearing skull masks flit through my mind, making chills prickle on my skin and shudders race down my spine.

The bat-creature lowers us down to the mouth of the cave, gently dropping me just before it lands. I stumble onto the stone ground, but lose my balance and fall flat on my ass. The creature frowns at me as it gracefully lands on its clawed feet. The bat strides upright on two legs now, like a human, its wings tucked in tight.

My brain is screaming at me to run before this creature makes me their breakfast. It was a big fucking mistake coming here. The bat comes up behind me, its leathery, puffed out chest inches from my face as it hooks a talon on its wing under my arm and hoists me to my feet. I don’t think it means to be as rough as it is.

“In,” the bat hisses darkly. “A feast awaits, Your Grace.”

My feet can’t do anything but obey the unfeeling, ice-cold voice behind me. The heat hits me with the strong stench of sulfur when we step into the mouth of the cave. Darkness presses in around me, the cavern nothing more than a black gaping hole ahead. The ground is uneven stone, and I walk significantly slower than the bat, who expertly hops across the rough terrain. The air is cool and dank, and in the distance, I can hear thedrip, drip, dripof water.

As we travel deeper into the dark, the sounds of drums echoes through the chamber, matching the rhythm of my heart hammering in my chest for whatawaits me. I follow the sound, because my sight is useless at this point.

I feel like I should be more afraid than I am. I mean, I’m fucking terrified, but wouldn’t a normal human have passed out from panic by now? Yet…there’s a humming in my blood, something in my marrow tugging me forward, thrumming with anticipation. This place not only feels familiar, like a world from a dream, but it also feelsalive. The blood in my veins rages like the river as it meets the sea, vibrating with the connection to something other, something I’ve never experienced before, yet feels so incredibly familiar.

Home. That’s what the very core of my mind—the deepest part of my brain whispers.

We’re home.

I lean into that feeling, let it guide me and calm me as I continue through the winding cave, one hand running along the rough, damp wall, the other hand in front of me to keep me from running into another wall, as I continue toward the sound of beating drums. I can hear more than see the bat ahead of me, slowing down every now and then to let me catch up.

We travel through complete darkness for what seems like a good hour, though it could have been five minutes. I should be panicking. Really. I’m not exactly an outdoorsy wildlife explorer. I could get lost in here. Die in here. Starve to death. Now the panic comes,sliding over my throat like a cold, skeletal hand, and I almost stop—when I see a glint of light ahead.

Light.

It swells and brightens the closer we walk toward it, the sound of beating drums growing louder deep within. Eventually I hear voices—laughter, chatter, singing, screeches. The words to some horrible song about luring humans to the lava pit to cool the mother’s temper meets my ears, and my spine stiffens.

---