Page 141 of Of Blood and Banes
“You said we have to get over there. And if thereissomething in there—” he gestures to the pool, his hair-dusted musclesworking as he removes his boots, “—then I’m not letting you go first.”
“He has a good point. You’re the last person in this group who should go first,” Sethan supplies cooly. “His death matters less.”
I toss him a glare.
“And he’s the tallest,” Sethan adds. “If he can’t walk across, none of us will be able to.”
Archie wolf-whistles, and I turn as Cole throws his pants off near his boots, jacket, and shirt. In nothing but his undergarments.
I drag my gaze away before my cheeks redden again. “Well, couldn’t we all just swim?”
Cole hesitantly glances at Marge, exchanging some silent acknowledgement, before Marge admits in a defeated mumble, “I…can’t swim?—”
“It’s fine!” Cole tries to interrupt quickly to cover her confession as he quickly wades into the water. “I’m happy to test the waters.”
My heart thunders in my chest as he takes step after step. My hand on my sword. The water rises higher and higher on his brawny body until it reaches just below his shoulder blades, and then begins to recede.
He makes it to the other side of the pool and waves. “It’s a little cold, but all clear!”
I release a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. Most of us roll up our sleeves and pants, while Sethan just blazes through the water. Cole returns, water dripping down his carved body as he slides his clothes back on. He and I link Marge’s arms between us, and the three of us cross the water together.
“You can’t swim?” I ask quietly. “I didn’t know that.”
“It never came up,” Marge mumbles.
I flick a look at Cole. But he knew. He mentioned having conversations with Marge about me. I’m curious as to how close they’ve gotten, if she’s admitting things to him like not being able to swim. Something vulnerable she’s never confessed to me.
We’re last to ascend the stairs out of the pool, shivering in the cold air. With sloppy, wet footsteps, we all climb the staircase through the double-arched exit into the glowing room, the humming of magic growing louder and louder as we crest the top to a landing.
Waterfalls spill down from the rocky ceiling and collect into a new pool of glowing blue water beneath the cliffside we all stand on. All the previous rooms were clearly human-made, but this?
This is natural.
Raw, primitive, and yet perfect. Jagged rock formations spike from the floors, the walls, and the ceiling like angry claws.
Theceiling.
I’ve never seen anything like it—it reflects the pool below, and yet isn’t a mirror. The water shifts and dances above us, glowing blue as the liquid whips back and forth. Shimmers sparkle in its depths like liquid stars.
Across the pool beneath us is a collection of black, sharpened rocks, formed to look like something between a nest and a throne. More waterfalls rush behind it, framing it with a blue glow and creating an island around the structure. But there, in the rocky shore of the island, are deep grooves. Carvings of the same ancient language we’ve been seeing, along with two intersecting rings, and two dragons. My father’s journal snaps into my memory.
The ancient carvings in the hatching grounds of Vitalis depict two dragons: one of the sun, and one of the moon.
“Oh, my…” Marge whispers beside me, her mouth open in unfettered awe. “...The hatching grounds.”
Sethan whispers, “This is where dragonkind began. With Vue and Daeja.”
The sun and moon dragons. Gifted by the Gods.
“And yet, the staircase wasn’t built to accommodate a dragon’s width. How would they get down here?” I ask.
“Perhaps there are other access points deeper in the cave. I noticed drawbridges large enough for a dragon in the castle,” Sethan responds. “So, I don’t imagine they forgot to create an access point here.”
“It’s…it’s beautiful,” Melaina whispers, tears lining her eyes.
I nod, transfixed by the luminescent blue, the calming rushing of the waterfalls, the sparkling liquid suspended above us. Daeja should be here. She should be seeing this.Feelingit. Experiencing it just like the rest of us.
“I wish you were here…”
