Page 44 of A Fate Everlasting

“Hurry up,” Dorian growled, paces ahead. We paused near the altar, the Crucible looming, a monolith of twisting glass and metal. The light inside it pulsed gold and silver, the glow casting long shadows against the walls.

I had seen it before. From afar. From the pews. Never this close. Something deep inside me curled inward. It was a warning, like my very being knew this thing, this false, hollow god.

The Crucible groaned. A deep, grinding sound, like the earth itself was yawning open beneath our feet. I stumbled back as rhunes of faintest gold lit up around its base. Then, with a hiss, the stone beneath it split cleanly in two, scraping over itself to reveal a spiral staircase carved from shadow and ice.

The Gates of Elsewhere. Hugo squeezed my hand before letting it go, moving to peer down into the abyss. He hesitated for a moment, one foot hovering over the edge. “I’m not sure about this, Cavendish.”

“Stay dead then, Fox,” Dorian snapped. “The only way out is down.”

“Down,” Hugo repeated flatly. His shoulders squared, like he was considering telling Verrine, but his head snapped forward and his knee bent onto the first step. “Wait. Where exactly in Elsewhere will this take me?”

“Just picture a curiosity shop. Hold that image in your mind, firmly. The steps will lead you where you need to go.” The corner of Dorian’s lip curled slightly. If Hugo hadn’t asked, would he have told him?

“Hold on.” I turned back to the staircase, but Hugo had already disappeared into the inky darkness. I hesitated. Dorian stood beside me, the silence sharp-edged. His hand twitched like he meant to reach for me and thought better of it.

“Stay close,” he said, his brow furrowing. “There’s less chance of something going wrong if we descend together.”

“What?” I tilted my head, a smirk tugging at the corners of my mouth. “Are you worried you can’t get the cards back without me?”

“You were the last one to touch them apart from Dante.” He looked at me long enough that my spine locked and my thoughtsscattered, one by one. “So as much as it pains me, you have a better chance at finding them than I do.”

“Let’s get this over with, then.” I started toward the staircase.

“Wait.” He wrenched me close, shifting in front of me. “Follow me, and hold your breath.”

“Why?” I hissed, cold leeching into my bones as my ankles landed on the first step. The shock of it splintered through me.

“Just listen to me for once, Davenant,” Dorian snapped, his hand gripping tighter. “If you feel yourself sliding, I’ll catch you.”

The stairs spiralled into darkness, each step more slippery than the last. The deeper I went, the more the cold sank in, bleeding through the soles of my shoes. I could hardly feel the next step, my feet stumbling for purchase. I drove my nails into Dorian, but he didn’t flinch, only gripped tighter in response.

The stairs spiralled into darkness, the walls breathing frost, each step slicker than the last. I couldn’t feel my toes. I couldn’t feel much of anything. Except him. I focused on the steady pressure of his hand, the warmth of it cutting through.

But then came the pull, the stumble of my foot as it searched for solid ground, and my grip on Dorian broke free. I was weightless, tumblingdown, down, downinto never-ending darkness, into never-ending cold.

My scream caught in the dark, swallowed before it ever reached the bottom.

The sensation of falling gripped me again, wrenching me downward before I slammed onto something solid, the roughness of splintered floorboards biting at my palms. I groaned, coughing as dust filled my lungs. I was so tired of falling places.

Iforced myself upright, blinking grit from my eyes. This room was steeped in a damp kind of dread. It looked like an average antique shop, with shelves lined with strange trinkets and heavy sheets draped over more significant objects.

“Hugo?” My voice wavered slightly. “Dorian?”

A spluttering cough came from the darkened area beside me, and Hugo pushed onto his forearms, something like black soot marking his face.

“Right.” Dorian emerged from behind a stack of shelves, casting a look over his shoulder before dropping his tone to a low whisper. Trinkets sat forgotten in glass cases, their surfaces dulled with grime. “This is a good place to start. Remember, we don’t have much time. We’ve got to get the deck, and if we can’t find another resurrection card, one of us will need to stay.”

“Got it,” Hugo nodded, wandering forward, fingers tracing a line of dust along an ornate mirror. His reflection warped strangely in the glass.

Dorian strode straight for the counter like he was walking into an interrogation room, tapping impatiently at the little silver bell. Hugo lingered, studying the warped mirrors as the sound rang out. He had a glazed over look in his eyes, like he wasn’t all there.

“Yes, yes.” The shopkeeper emerged from the back of the shop, brushing away the frazzled strands that framed her face. She was ancient, but in a way that suggested she had simply stopped aging rather than ever being young. Her eyes, black as oil, peered up at us over half-moon glasses like she already knew exactly why we were here. “Well,” she purred, clicking her impossibly long nails against the wooden counter.Click. Click. Click. “I thought it might be you.”

My blood ran cold. Hugo tilted his head, lips twitching into an easy smile. “You were expecting us?”

The shopkeeper didn’t even glance at him. Her attentionwas fixed on me, or rather, just below my throat. The weight of the necklace suddenly felt like it was suffocating. She laughed mirthlessly, shaking her head. “Not you, boy.” Dark amusement curled her lips.“Her.”

A slow, uneasy pulse worked its way down my spine.

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