Page 62 of Curses & Keys
His breath hitches. “Rain check?”
“Absolutely.” I exhale and tilt my head back to study his face. “And yes, I want to do this again. With you.” Tracing the rough stone beneath my fingers, I smile. “I love the feeling I get when I’m in the past. Digging for history. Sharing it with you has been amazing.”
He inhales sharply beside me. “Lift your hand.”
“What?” I ask, moving away from him to peer down at the stone beneath me. Light shines from beneath my palm. And it’s not fading. I quickly shift to my feet and raise my hand. “It’s still glowing.” Excited, I stare in awe at the sight.
“Move your hand,” he instructs me.
When I lift it away from the brand, the light shines brightly from the floor halfway up to the ceiling. Following it with our eyes, we continue the straight path and find a matching symbol.
He jumps up. “I’m going to lift you up to the mark on the ceiling.”
Wind caresses my legs, weaving in and out as it gets stronger, until it suddenly lifts me up to the symbol. Once there, I hold my hand out and light begins to glow.
“It’s working!” I exclaim excitedly. “I’m going to move my hand.” The second my hand shifts to the side, the light extends fully until it meets the light from the floor, forming one continuous stream.
Hawthorne sets me down, and we step to the side to peer at the slim column of light. As the circumference widens, the lightglows brighter. It increases in size until the column encompasses the center of the room, exactly where the painting used to be. Roughly six feet in diameter.
The floor beneath our feet rumbles, then stones slide to the right and left. A large hole forms, and in the center, a golden anvil with a matching blacksmith’s hammer laying on its surface rises from the depths.
“Hephaestus crafted many a creation on that anvil,” I say in awe at the sight before me.Shit.Does that mean…? I look around, suddenly fearful that the god is going to appear. Listening to the sounds of the night, I wait.
Hawthorne steps up and grips my hand. “I’m here. No matter what.” Fire forms in his other hand, ready to be used at a moment’s notice.
We stand together and wait. The column of light disappears, but instead of the darkness returning, the anvil begins to glow.
“What do you think is happening?” I murmur. “Can you see anything?”
Without releasing my hand, he steps forward and shines his flame on the anvil. It grows brighter. He moves his hand back, and it dims. Forward, and it glows.
He points to the words on the side of the anvil that appear when his flames skim the surface. “Our instructions?”
Releasing his hand, I step forward and read the words. “Let the flames fire the forge and the hammer reveal.” Am I supposed to create something? “See anything else?”
He waves a hand at the hammer. “The symbol. It’s on the handle.”
I slowly reach my palm out, but no light appears. A knot forms in my throat. “I think I’m supposed to pick it up.” I flash a worried look at him.
He scowls. “I don’t like it.”
“See any other options?” I ask, desperate to find another answer.
“No,” he replies tersely. Fire erupts from his second hand. “I’ll create the fire. You pick up the hammer.”
The second he holds both hands out toward the anvil, fire erupts in a circle around us. Sweat immediately forms across my body as the intense heat licks at the edges. I reach out and grasp the handle, with my left palm flush against the symbol. Searing pain makes me cry out. I try to drop the hammer, but it’s welded to my hand.
The flames dim, and the pain gets worse. “Don’t stop!” I tell him as tears slip down my face. We must finish the quest. “Hotter. The flames must be blue.”
“No!” he roars. “You’ll burn up.”
“I won’t,” I assure him. “This task was given to me. The gods leave nothing to chance. Do it.” I stare into his green eyes, usually bright, now dark, a maelstrom of fear and determination in their depths.
He raises his hands. Flames pour out of his hands like a river, and the fire burns higher and hotter. Tips of white begin to appear across the flames. Muscles along his jaw tighten, and sweat pours down his face, dampening his shirt, as the magic pulls at him. His eyes remain locked on mine. He widens his stance, and the cords in his neck pop out, but he continues to feed the fire around us. The flames turn pure white. His body sways, and I bite my lip at the agony I can see in his eyes.
The hammer sears my skin, and I flinch, but not once do I let my gaze drop from his. We’re in this together. Trusting the other to do our part. Pain. Heat. Doesn’t matter.
He takes a deep breath, braces himself, and pushes more power into the flames. A streak of white appears in his hair, and still, he doesn’t stop. My knees almost buckle at the heat around us. The flames don’t burn, but the air is thick and smothering.It’s getting harder to breathe. The first hints of blue appear, and at the sight, he roars and thrusts his hands out, pouring the last vestiges of his power into the flames. Pure blue flames erupt.
