Page 51 of The Midnight Death Match
Lys smiles faintly. “Spoken like ones ready to unmake the old rules.”
The air stirs with energy, a fragile unity starting to form. Beneath it all, the pulse of dread knots in my gut. This fight will come at a price, and I don’t know yet who will pay it.
I’m willing for it to be me. I can’t lose anyone else.
Chapter
Nineteen
The air changesthe moment we cross the boundary. It’s colder, denser. It wraps around my skin like damp cloth, carrying a heavy pulse that beats just beneath the surface of my hearing.
The ruins twist as we descend into Courtsview’s heart. What must’ve once been elegant stonework is now warped pillars spiraling at impossible angles, staircases looping into dead ends, walls bending like soft wax under unseen pressure. Cracked fae wards flicker faintly, half-swallowed by creeping black moss that pulses as if breathing. The deeper we move, the more wrong everything feels. Even the silence is off—not quiet, but waiting.
Beside me, Harek walks stiffly, blade in hand, every step measured. His eyes dart constantly in the shadows, but his attention keeps flicking toward me too. I can feel his tension without a word spoken between us.
Ahead, Lys moves with unsettling ease. He barely glances at the grotesque architecture as it shifts around us, as if the city itself is adjusting to our presence.
My sword hums softly against my hip, the faint warmth pulsing in time with my heartbeat. It’s not warning me to run, but not quite reassuring me either.
On my other side, Einar mutters low under his breath, as if speaking too loudly might wake something. “Even in its prime, the core was never meant for mortal minds.”
“Feels like we’re walking through someone’s broken memory,” I whisper back.
Lys smiles faintly at that but doesn’t turn. “That’s not far from the truth.”
Harek mutters something too low to be heard.
As we step beneath a fallen arch, a faint whisper skates past my ear. It’s soft and familiar.
“Eira…”
I freeze, heart lurching. My mother’s voice. I’d know it anywhere.
But when I glance sharply to the side, there’s nothing there. Only the ruins. Her words must be coming from my mind again, just like it did back in my room at Einar’s place.
The further we move, the less solid everything feels. At first, the sensation is subtle with shadows flickering where there’s no wind, echoes bouncing in wrong directions. But then the wards begin to work harder, like they’ve sensed our presence fully now.
A figure steps into view ahead. Familiar, unmistakable.
My mother. She stands in the center of the broken hallway—hair loose, eyes soft—exactly as I remember her in rare quiet moments. But her mouth moves without sound, and her hands stretch toward me.
The familiar lump in my throat returns as tears prickle my eyes. I stumble forward instinctively.
“Eira!” Harek’s voice snaps me back, sharp and grounding.
The illusion wavers. My mother flickers, then vanishes into a coil of smoke, drifting upward and dissolving.
I reach for her, even though I know she wasn’t real.
“They’ll prey on what you feel most,” Lys says. “What you long for most.”
Harek exhales tightly. “How do you know that?”
Lys only smiles, unsettlingly at ease. “Because I’ve walked these paths before.”
Another pulse hums through the stone beneath our feet. It’s a low, rolling vibration like a heartbeat in the earth. The moss pulses in response.
Next comes another ward. Whispers thread through the air. Many voices this time.
