Page 65 of Wings of Ash & Flame
The ground beneath her boots was soft and squishy. Heaps of Black Mondo grass blended with the darkness, their thin blades like fields of spiders huddled together. She gave herself a sharp shake, forcing the image away.
She kept her eyes fixed on the light ahead.
The caws of unseen creatures sent her scurrying forward faster, unwilling to spend a second longer here than necessary. The pull toward the orb remained, but it was less insistent now.
Then she heard it—whimpers of despair and howls of agony threading through the trees.
Dawson clapped his hands over his ears; she followed suit, humming a long-forgotten lullaby. Anything to drown out the voices begging her to listen.
They reached the edge of a clearing. Alaire stopped, staring down into a circular abyss, unease blooming in her gut.
In front of her was a gaping hole in the earth, wide and black, like the ground’s heart had been broken and the wound never healed. A cenote. Carved into the crumbling rock was a spiral staircase wrapping around its edge.
“Well”—she nudged a loose rock with the toe of her boot—“this looks inviting.”
The stone tumbled forward and vanished. She silently counted: one… two… three. A faint splash echoed up from below.
She sighed, rubbing a hand over her face. “Perfect. Bottomless pit of doom. Just what I always longed for.”
The damp air clung to her skin, and the pull coiled tight in her chest.
Dawson eyed the sinkhole with the same trepidation she felt. The slick, crumbling staircase didn’t inspire confidence.
“Shall we?” he urged. “Ladies first.”
“How chivalrous.” She flashed him a brittle smile.
Beck pawed at the ground before chasing his tail in a circle and settling down.
“Can’t he fly us down?” she asked.
Somewhere in the depths, water dripped in slow, echoing intervals.
Dawson shook his head. “Not a risk I’m willing to take with him until we see exactly what brought us to the edge of Cielore.”
“Absolute insanity, apparently.”
With one last glance at the dense forest—thankfully free of ferocious beasts—she squared her shoulders and stepped forward.
The stairs spiraled downward, slick with moisture and veined with moss. One wrong move and she’d be plunging into whatever nightmare waited below.
Fantastic.
Mist curled around her halfway down. The cenote’s walls seemed to press closer, heavy with tangled vines that dangled like skeletal fingers toward the water’s surface.
When they reached solid ground, the orb’s light pulsed in steady intervals, as if flashing an arrow that screamed,We’re here.
“Yeah, thanks,” she muttered to it.
Directly across the cavern lay a body of dark water, a glassy expanse that reflected their shapes back like a black mirror.
The light that had beckoned them skittered across the water’s surface like a flare before diving deep below. She shielded her eyes against the brightness. Her boots sank into the soft earth near the water’s edge.
The pond’s surface shifted from an opaque mirror to a translucent veil, revealing an oval-shaped object nestled far below. Then the water stilled once more, leaving only her harrowed reflection staring back.
Hollowed eyes. Blown-out pupils. Frizzy hair.
A stiff jab in the middle of her spine almost made her trip, the pull insisting she move forward.
