Page 205 of Wings of Ash & Flame
This was it—the pain and suffering the bat had promised.
Her mind urged her to move, to fight, but her body was an amalgamation of pain and fatigue. Each breath scraped through her like sandpaper. She was a vessel of exhaustion. Alaire couldn’t fight in her current state, so she forced herself to remain still, to observe. Watching. Listening.
She wasn’t dead. And until she was, she wouldn’t give up.
A ripple of shadow, subtle but unmistakable, bled along the edge of the gloom. Her pulse quickened against her ribs. Another flicker of movement caught her eye—a figure lurking in the darkness. Relief and suspicion warred in her chest as she recognized Professor Ross, half-consumed by shadow. Tweed jacket, sleeves rolled to the elbows, face grim and determined.
Is he here to save me—or finish what his master started?
Her mind cataloged every interaction they’d had, every moment that had felt off. She’d always known he was hidingsomething. Now, hanging upside down and vulnerable, she’d finally find out what his true agenda was.
Friend or foe, Professor Ross?
Staring at the creatures Professor Ross was doing his best to avoid, the words of the one that had spoken into her mind echoed through her thoughts:we are both old and new. They had eight eyes and could spit spidersilk, yet their anatomy was that of a bat.
Horror dawned as she realized those monsters were hybrids—made of something both old and new. An abomination born of the Voidshade Sovereign’s depravity.
Hybrids.
Ross moved with calculated stealth, eyes scanning the cavern for threats. When his gaze found hers, he pressed a finger to his lips, gesturing to the bats hanging above.
Stay quiet.
With practiced precision, he directed small bursts of flame at her restraints. The fire singed a few strands of spider silk at a time, careful not to burn her skin or rouse the sleeping creatures. Alaire had never seen anyone wield fire outside her memories of Aurelia. Watching him, she realized there was far more to Professor Ross than she’d ever suspected.
The scent of scorched silk filled her nose. Across the nebula, controlled flames burned, drawing the hybrids’ attention—distractions he must’ve set. The diversion had pulled them away from her section of the cavern.
She sent a prayer up to Lysia: Please, let him finish before they notice.
His eyes met hers briefly, a silent promise there. Perspiration glistened on his brow as he continued dismantling her manacles. Just a few more minutes.
Her mind wandered. If Professor Ross was here, it had to mean something had gone catastrophically wrong with thetrial. Her heartbeat pounded in her ears, each second stretching endlessly.
Finally, the last strand of silk gave way. Then she was falling.
She braced for a jarring collision, but an invisible platform caught her mere feet from where she’d been suspended. Pain bloomed along her forearms and shins as she landed hard. She stayed down, panting, breath fogging the glass beneath her, limbs trembling from the strain of hanging for so long.
At the far end of the nebula, flames burned higher, distracting the monstrous hybrids. Wings unfurled as their grotesque forms flew toward the glow. Alaire pressed her head flat against the cool surface, praying their eyes wouldn’t find her. The knowledge of being fed on without her consent crawled over her skin like ants.
A glint of metal caught her eye—the emergency dagger their leader had taunted her with. Its blade shone faintly in the fractured light. She stretched forward, fingers closing around the hilt, and slipped it back into her boot. The weight of steel at her ankle was reassuring.
Shiny black dress shoes filled her vision. Looking up, she nearly wept with relief at Professor Ross’s familiar face.
He extended a hand. She took it, hauling herself upright as her muscles screamed in protest. Once steadied, he placed her daggers gently into her palms. “It seems you were missing these.”
The cool, familiar weight grounded her. But then realization struck harder than a yeti’s blow. She’d left them behind in Bellatrix’s Blizzard.
“Is everyone okay?” she whispered, fingers squeezing the blades.
“The trial ended hours ago, Alaire.” His brows knit. “All the other teams made it through the three segments. We knew something was wrong when none of you four—or your celestials—returned. I left before they gave any updates. I’m sorry. I wish I had news.”
Her shoulders slumped, the sting of disappointment pressing down on her. She couldn’t dwell on it now.
“Professor,” she whispered. “How did you?—”
“Questions later.” His gaze swept the nebula. “We need to move before they realize you’re gone.”
She wanted to trust him. Needed to. But every instinct screamed he was holding something back.
