I will make you pay for what you have done.
I have that big bad feeling inside of me. Something isn’t right. Something is deeply not right.
“Memnon?” It comes out as a whisper. I’m not even sure I want the man’s attention. Not after he veered from passionate desire to enraged betrayal.
Save for the soft hiss of the torches, the chamber is quiet. Quiet and gloomy.
I think he’s gone.
I look at the walls and the text that runs rampant across them. This was a place filled with spells meant to seal “Memnon the Cursed” in. And it had done a damn good job of it until I came along.
My gaze returns to the broken sarcophagus lid. I can still see the warning scrawled across it.
For the love of your gods, beware of me.
I press my palms into my eyes.
Oh no. Oh, no, no, no.
I released something better left buried. And now I have no idea where he is or why he thinks I’m…his.
My queen… A love like ours defies everything… I am yours forever…
I rub my temples.
That alone would be problematic, but no, he’s also convinced I fucked him over.
Ugh.
All at once I have the pressing, claustrophobic need to flee this place. I stumble across the room, then down the long hallway. The magic that filled this space is mostly gone; I feel the hollow throb of its absence. All that’s left are the few tattered remains of spells. They may be enough to ward off people who venture close by, but it’s not nearly enough to put Memnon back in that box.
At least he’s not here.
Halfway down that curving hallway, I stop. Nero already rests at the foot of the staircase. But the sunlight that should be shining on the steps above him is gone.
Shit, shit, shit.
Is it nighttime already?
I rush over to the stairs, the decorated walls mocking me with one name that stands out over and over.
Memnon.
Memnon.
Memnon.
Goddess, but this guy sucks big time. I trip up the stairs, Nero following me. It’s only as I near the top that I notice it’s not actually nighttime at all. Or maybe it is—there’s no way of knowing for sure because our exit is now covered by a stone slab. In the dim light, I can just make out the spell that covers it, the magical threads a familiar midnight-blue color.
Just by the way the power coats the slab and oozes around its seams, I can tell it’s a containment spell.
“Fuck.”
I glance back at Nero. “Got any ideas on how to lift this thing?”
He gazes back at me, his tail twitching. I swear the big cat is giving me a look that says, You’re a fucking witch. Spellcraft that shit. But you know, I’m probably just reading into my cat’s expressions too much.
Regardless, I admit, “I’m afraid that if I use more magic, it’ll cost me too many memories.”
Nero stares at me for several long seconds, then turns around, descends the stairs, and flops down in the hallway, as though he expects to just…remain locked in here.
“Nice show of faith in me!” I call after him. To myself, I mutter, “You show a cat one ounce of vulnerability, and they assume you’re a chickenshit.”
Which, full disclosure, I am. Still, I don’t need judgment like that from my familiar.
I turn back to the stone slab above me. Doing nothing isn’t really an option. Nero and I are lucky to have been left here unharmed, but what if the monster comes back?
And shit, what if he doesn’t?
What if he left us here to die?
Fear closes my throat.
My memory isn’t endless, and if I overuse my magic, I don’t know what exactly will happen. That’s the ominous event horizon.
It won’t happen today. I vow that to myself. I will get us out of here. Whatever it takes.
I focus once more on the spell. It gives off a glittering sort of light. Unlike the wild plumes of it that I saw earlier, in this form, Memnon’s power looks like some indecipherable writing, all of it made by one continuous magical thread. It looks as though it were drawn onto the stone slab above me.
After a moment, I reach out and touch it. It’s ever so slightly warm, and I find that, oddly enough, I like the feel of it. I stroke the thread, feeling my way around the spell. Definitely a containment ward; I can sense Memnon’s intent woven into the magic. Stay and keep seem to be the overriding words coming off it.
Though it’s not the time or place, I can’t help but wonder what sort of supernatural he is. There are many who can wield magic, and though there are ways to tell the difference through spells themselves, I don’t know them.
My fingers linger on the ward, and as I muse, the intricately wrought thread jiggles and shifts until it eventually moves from its fixed position. The shimmery blue cord coils itself around my middle finger. The spell slithers down my hand, winding around my wrist like a makeshift bracelet.
It’s as though the magic likes the feel of my skin every bit as much as I like the feel of it.
I stare at it, half in horror and half in awe.
“This is so weird,” I murmur, watching the spell unmake itself as it moves onto my skin.
I should be worried about touching it. It’s obvious enough now that this magic belongs to Memnon, the creature I freed from this…prison. Everything about him seems volatile, his magic included. And yet it doesn’t eat away at my skin, nor has my touch invoked some secondary spell. It simply peels itself away from the stone and gathers on my hand and wrist until eventually, the entire spell has migrated onto my skin. There it lingers for a few seconds before dissipating.
The magic broke its own spell.
“So, so weird,” I murmur again.
Once the magic has completely dissolved, I eye the stone slab once more. I lean my shoulder against it and push, but it doesn’t so much as budge.
Below me, Nero yawns, flashing his canines and making a sound that would be cute if it weren’t a direct insult to my ability to bust us out of this joint.
I back down two steps and raise my arm, baring my palm to the slab.
“Lift this stone and cast it aside. Let me see what lies outside.”
My magic pours from my hand and coats the slab, and then the massive stone lurches upward, then drags itself aside.
I stare at the dying light above me with both relief and a sense of foreboding. Nero and I are free, but now it’s nearly night.
Night. Alone in the jungle. Where there is a plethora of predators—and among them, an ancient, vengeful supernatural.
I shrink back a little. The deepening shadows beyond the tomb’s entrance would be a perfect place for Memnon to lie in wait.
Nero, however, has no such reservations. Now that we’re free, the panther slinks past me, picking his way through the ruins.
I hesitate for only a few seconds longer before gathering my courage—and my magic—and stepping out of the crypt.
In the dying light, the ruins look hauntingly beautiful—or maybe beautifully haunted. I can’t quite say which it is, only that the sight of them plucks at my heartstrings and makes the back of my neck tingle.