Page 58 of Mostly Shattered

I lean into the bars and give them a small shake as I try to look beyond at the impenetrable darkness. “How do we get in?”

Costin pulls me against his chest. The sudden full contact of his body takes me by surprise. I lift my face toward his, half expecting him to kiss me.

Instead, his face distorts and blurs. Before I can protest, I feel myself being jolted almost violently off my feet. Everything spins and mushes together, and I become lightheaded, like I’ve been dropped into a freefall inside a tornado.

As suddenly as it starts, it stops. Costin holds upright as my wobbly knees give out. Nausea churns. I hold my breath as I fight throwing up on the front of his shirt.

“That was traveling two feet,” he states.

His look seems to say,I told you so.

“You could have warned me.” I want to push away, but I’m still trying to regain my composure.

“You’re mortal. The only way past the bars is with supernatural help.” He lets me go, and I manage to stay upright. “It was faster than another debate. We cannot keep stopping every three steps to discuss what we are doing.”

So much for my dictating rules.

“Supernaturals are so dramatic,” I mutter.

I become aware of conversations happening around us. The indistinct murmurs create a hectic racket, as I can’t pick out any one conversation. Everything is buzzing with energy, thrumming in time with the pulse in my veins. I turn away from Costin and realize for the first time that this place looks nothing like the dark pit I saw through the bars.

The bars acted like some kind of magical filter, shielding the true nature of this realm from the world above. Down here, my skin tingles as though the very air is alive with static electricity, ready to crash over me in waves. It’s a familiar sensation, and I wonder if it’s a magical residue.

Beneath my fear, there’s something else. A spark. A sense of purpose. For so long, I’ve felt lost, trapped between two worlds, fully human but bound by the rules of the supernatural. Here, in this crypt, I feelsomething awakening inside me. It quickens my pulse and deepens my breath. I’ve been hiding from this world for far too long.

The tunnels themselves feel more natural than man-made, as if this place has always been here, hidden beneath the city, waiting. The walls and ceilings are formed of chipped stone, rough in places but worn smooth where centuries of hands have passed. A path polished by endless footsteps leads deeper into the heart of this underground world. Glowing clusters of crystals and gems embedded in the stone provide soft illumination, casting an otherworldly light that dances off the surfaces like fractured rainbows. It’s brighter here than I expected, yet shadows cling stubbornly to secret edges. I feel a sense of danger lurking just out of sight.

“Stick close to me,” Costin murmurs, his voice vibrating with an undercurrent of warning. “This isn’t a place where you want to get lost.”

As we move deeper, the narrow tunnels give way to a vast cavern, and my breath catches in my throat. Before me lies a sprawling city that feels like it belongs to another time—medieval yet pulsating with supernatural energy. Towering spikes of stone rise from the ground, connected by intricate bridges and archways that crisscross above us. Stalls line the streets, selling strange, shimmering goods I can’t name by every kind of being imaginable.Creatures that would be glamoured and hidden in the human world move freely through the city.

Robed figures flit through the crowd like ghosts, their faces hidden, only their glowing eyes occasionally peeking out from beneath their hoods to glance curiously in my direction. I can’t help but overhear snippets of conversations. Most of them are incomprehensible, spoken in languages I don’t understand, but a few drift toward me with uncanny clarity.

“...you’re kidding. I’m not paying for protection.” A werewolf, half-shifted with his claws still extended, is deep in conversation with a delicate fairy whose wings flutter anxiously in the heavy air.

“I swear, he’s got a vendetta against anyone who even looks at him wrong,” the fairy answers. “Nearly tore off my wing for bumping into him at the market.”

If I had to guess by the fairy’s lack of clothes, I’d say she was a prostitute.

Then again, that might be a little judgy of me. Fairies aren’t exactly my favorite creatures.

I shudder and move closer as Costin walks ahead of me, his steps sure as he navigates the crowd. I can tell he’s done this a thousand times. I struggle to keep up, my senses overwhelmed by the sights, sounds, and smells of this place.

I wonder where Anthony might be. Why doesn’t he answer my texts?

The hair on the back of my neck stands on end with the sensation of being watched. I can’t blame any one creature. Several of them are staring at me.

Another conversation catches my attention—a pair of horned demons haggle with a merchant over what looks like a mason jar filled with a pulsing, glowing ooze.

“...if you can’t guarantee it’s the real thing, why should I pay full price?” a garbled voice demands. “A bottled soul isn’t worth much if it’s tainted.”

“You can’t tell me it’s tainted when you can feel its heat,” the merchant defends. “That’s a pure soul, right from the source. Do you have any idea what it took to get this?”

I tear my gaze away from the jar, bile rising in my throat. A bottled soul? What kind of horrible black marketplace is this?

“You come here often?” I ask Costin. “You clearly know your way around.”

Costin glances over his shoulder at me, his expression unreadable, though there’s a flicker of amusement in his eyes. “You could say that.”

---