Page 86 of Darkness and Deceit
We break apart just as quickly, like a breathless exhale. I half expect an apology or a lecture, but Augustus simply stares at me, eyes wild and unguarded. His hand falls away from my face, but not before one last brush against my jaw, a silent punctuation.
“We should keep moving,” he says, but it’s hard to take him seriously when his voice breaks a little. He clears his throat, the blush on his cheekbones barely visible beneath the layer of dust.
“Yeah,” I rasp, still not sure if I’m supposed to feel embarrassed or confused. My brain is refusing to make a call.
He hauls himself to his feet, helps me up with a hand that lingers a second longer than necessary, then dusts off the front of his tunic. For a moment, I imagine we could both pretend that didn’t happen. But his eyes stay on my lips a beat too long, and something about that makes it very, very real.
The collapse behind us has sealed off the way back; we have only one way out now, forward. Augustus’ glow is still wobbly, but it edges back toward steady as we press on, the damp stone slippery underfoot.
The cavern tapers, squeezing us together. We brush shoulders, sometimes arms. Each accidental contact reverberates, echoing the pulse from before.
My nerves are shot and my magic feels farther away every step, but I can’t tell if it’s because of the tunnel or the way Augustus keeps glancing at me sideways, like he’s afraid I’ll vanish if he looks away. I want to say something. I want to break the silence, but my tongue is jammed in the back of my throat.
The faces in the walls grow denser as we continue, pressed together so tight the stone itself seems barely able to contain their collective howl. I avert my gaze and study my own boots—worn at the toes, dusted white with chalky residue. They feel heavy, but I force them onward, matching Augustus’ stride, letting him lead by half a step.
The tunnel gradually widens again, opening into a chamber that feelswrongin a way I can’t name. The air grows thicker, denser, pressing in from all sides. It’s like wading through water.
Augustus lifts his hand, and his glow stretches farther than before, but only barely. The chamber is massive, carved into sweeping arches, the walls slick and glistening. More faces are etched into the stone, but they’re different now.
They’re watching us. And they’re not simply carved expressions frozen in agony—theymove. Subtle twitches of the eyes, a shift of a jaw, a curl of lips pulled back over teeth.
Their stone mouths don’t open, but thesensationof screaming floods my ears anyway. I stumble, clapping a hand over my head like I can block it out. “Do you—are they?—?”
“I hear them too,” Augustus murmurs, jaw clenched. “But not with my ears.”
The glow in his hand dims again, and I don’t miss the way his other hand twitches toward mine, but he stops himself short of reaching out.
I close the distance for him. Wrapping my pinky finger around his. His magic steadies, if only a little.
“They’re not illusions,” I say softly. “They’reechoes. Like… imprints.”
“Spiritual residue,” he agrees. “Possibly from tethered souls. Or drained ones.”
I swallow, the taste of iron thick on my tongue. “We need to get the hell out of here.”
Something pulses deeper in the chamber. It’s faint, yet oddly familiar, like a forgotten melody. I step forward letting go of Augustus’ finger, my boots echoing softly against the stone floor. I shift a little to the right, my head tilting instinctively, drawn to that elusive thread of sensation winding around my ribs, tugging gently.
It’s not quite pain, nor is it recognition. It’s more like…
“Lilith?” Augustus calls out, his voice softer now, tinged with worry.
I don’t answer. Instead, I press my hand to the wall, feeling its warmth seep into my palm. The surface almost seems to pulse beneath my touch. My own magic recoils, pulling back as if sensing something my mind can’t yet grasp.
And then realization hits me like a cold wave. I freeze, my breath catching in my throat as my mouth goes dry. The trace wrapping around me, the pressure threading through the air—it’s unmistakably him.
Magnus.
His presence echoes throughout this place, woven into the very fabric of the stone, clinging to the roots like ancient vines. It throbs just beneath the surface, a heartbeat I can’t unhear, resonating with a haunting familiarity.
“He’s been here,” I whisper, my voice a mere tremor in the stillness. “I don’t know when or how, but I can feel him.”
Augustus moves to stand beside me, his eyes scanning the chamber with a newfound intensity. “Are you certain?”
“Yes.” My voice is low, almost hollow, as if the very air has been sucked from the room. “This place remembers him.”
For a moment, neither of us speaks. All around, the faces etched into the stone walls seem to twitch and shift, their eyes following our every move with an eerie intensity.
Augustus’ fingers graze against mine once more, and this time, he keeps the connection, a slight grip that feels like a lifeline.
