Page 42 of The Brotherhood

He gave a secret grin. “The Pillars send out a type of pulse that momentarily disrupts the distortion field, allowing our instruments to lock onto a single, unchanging coordinate.”

Beth got back to gawking at the monstrosity, realizing the plane had landed. “Wow,” she breathed. “We are definitely not in Kansas anymore.”

“No, Swampy, we are not.”

CHAPTER 10

Crossing Chaos

Sinrik’s grip on her arm tightened before he could stop himself. The wind whipped as he hurried with her up the endless steps. A gust hit him and he wrapped his arm around her waist. “I can’t have you flying off into the chasm,” he yelled over the howling.

“Thank you!” she yelled back, the words swallowed by the monstrous breath assaulting them. The wind was always strong across the bridge, but it was brutal in the winter.

Once they survived the bridge, his hold only tightened as he escorted her to the massive arch that resembled a funnel, decreasing in height and width with every step you took. At the end of it, massive stone doors stood with weatherworn carvings and swirling patterns on its surface. As they approached, a low rumble shuddered through the archway, followed by the grinding of gears hidden deep within the rock.

Slowly, the doors parted, not swinging in or outward but retreating into the ten-foot-thick walls. They came to a jarring halt and the massive force of it was felt through the body, beginning at the feet. They passed through a narrow opening big enough for a single human, into the vast cavern as the gears in the mountainous walls returned, grinding the doors shut.

The howl of the wind cut off, leaving them in dense, centuries-old cool air.

“Oh wow,” Beth whispered, the words a soft echo in the vast cavern carved into the mountain’s belly before them.Stone pillars served as walls and lined the way while their tops disappeared into the shadows above.

He took her arm again and led her along a sand-colored stone floor that danced with the reflections cast by massive torches on each pillar. He forced himself to take smaller steps, trying to allow her time to absorb the once in a lifetime experience. He sure would never forget the first time he walked through those doors.

The scent of old parchment, burning oil, and something metallic hung in the air. Something told him operating those doors required some type of explosive power to get it off to the races.

A slow exhale left his lips. He always forgot how different the world felt inside these walls. Felt like chaos wasn’t just studied—it was contained, pulsing beneath the surface like an unspoken presence.

He tightened his grip and pulled her forward. “We’ll sight see later,” he muttered, aiming for the passage at the end leading into the vast chamber where the Pillars waited.

Beth snapped her gaze to one of the fleeting figures in gray robes that moved through the halls beyond the pillars, faces hidden by hoods.

She whispered, “Who are they?”

He lowered his head. “The Rift Monks. There’s only ten of them. They’re like the Shaolin Monks of the Gobi. They train the apprentices and play nanny to the kings.”

Beth exhaled, voice low. “It feels like a graveyard.”

Sinrik didn’t look at her. “It kind of is.” He pointed to the left. “The Lower Archives start there. That’s Oblivion’s domain. He’s known as the historian. Studies the history of chaos. And over here,” he nodded on the opposite side. “Is the Warden’s Hollow or Volkan’s domain. He studies the powers in chaos. Literally. He has an entire floor just for testing, breaking andrebuilding. And behind that is Nexus’s domain. The Architect of Patterns. If chaos has a shape, he’s the one tracing it. And then on the opposite side of the mountain is The Gloam Sanctum.”

“Mercy,” she muttered. “Sounds terrifying.”

“The Psychologist of Chaos,” he said. “Studies all the nutjobs that cause it and all the poor bastards that get caught in it.” He paused a beat. “And you already know what’s beneath us,” he muttered, eyeing her.

“Oh God,” she whispered, the instant horror on her face making him grin. His gaze lingered on her. He realized he enjoyed bringing that reaction and for a split second, something stirred within the dark goop of his lost memories. And then it vanished.

His fingers tightened around her arm again, another instinct without a trace or reason and yet as strong and necessary as the breath moving through his lungs.

The Pillars had their reasons for this meeting and Sinrik had his. But what he needed would come not from one of the Pillars but a particular apprentice. Zahir Malik—the enigmatic Northern African handpicked by Noctis for his exceptional people reading abilities. His superpower was identifying exactly what tactic somebody was using when manipulating.

Sinrik was ninety-nine point nine, nine, nine percent positive she wasn’t knowingly manipulating a single thing, but the scans didn’t lie, she was doing something. He wanted to know if the apprentice had ever encountered anything like it and all the attached information that came with that.

The air in the formal meeting chamber shifted to noticeably warmer. More fires were lit but the torch lights barely reached the high, vaulted ceiling.

“That’s them?” Beth whispered, her words shaky as they walked toward the far end of the room.

“That’s them,” he confirmed at the four thrones cut right into the mountain, each shaped differently—some jagged, some smooth—but all of them ancient works of art holding their esteemed custodians of chaos.

“They’re watching us,” she barely whispered.

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