It swung down and landed directly before him with a screech, the ground shuddering beneath its clawed feet. The sulfur pools on either side of Roman began to rise, threatening to bubble over and burn him.
He couldn’t breathe past the fear, but he stared at the eithral. The creature opened its mouth, revealing bloodstained teeth and rotten breath, and let out another screech that made Roman’s heart falter. He winced, clapping his hands over his ears.
The eithral was lunging for him, ready to snap his body in two, and all Roman could think was I’m not ready for this. But the impact never came. More notes claimed the air, shimmering like rain in the sun. A spell had been cast. A command given by flute.
The creature stopped suddenly, flinging its head up in resistance. Roman fell backward, sprawling on the stone, trembling. He watched as the eithral spread its sinewy wings and took flight, following the sound of the flute as more notes were given.
Roman lay like that for a while, feeling like his bones had melted. He stared up into the drifting steam, and he listened as the notes continued to ring through the under realm. Eventually, he sat forward with a groan, and he saw something strange in the distance. A pillar of sunlight, breaking through the shadows.
It was the steam vent, he realized. It had opened, and the eithrals were flying out.
The bombing had commenced, and a surge of scalding anger overtook Roman.
He screamed, hoarse and desperate, yanking on his chains. He pulled until the shackles cut deeper wounds at his wrists and he bled again. He screamed until his strength dwindled and his lungs felt small and tight, his heart broken by anguish.
Roman slid to his knees, kneeling among the skeletons.
He stared at that pillar of light. A chill spread through him, like frost creeping over his skin, when he realized it would be the last time he saw the sun.
* * *
It was quiet as a tomb in the under realm.
Iris led the way down the stairs, remembering the words Enva had told her in the dream. Pay attention to the floor. The way it slopes. It will guide you through the many passages, taking you deeper into the realm. She also remembered what Roman had told her about the lowest level of this place, where the eithrals dwelled and could be commanded by a flute.
She still had Val’s flute in her pocket, alongside the key, the ball of wax, and now three blueberry scones. All important items to carry on a death mission below.
When the stairs at last fed into a corridor, Iris chose to take them to the right, because the floor angled downward. She left a crumb of scone on the ground every time she and Attie made a turn, so they could find their way back. But she also paid attention to the clusters of malachite, which were so beautiful they made her pause to admire them.
“What do you think these crystals are for?” Attie mused aloud, tracing their green facets.
“I wonder if they’re supposed to be a map, or road signs,” Iris said. “A way for people to know where they are?” Roman had described seeing amethyst clusters on his walk beneath Oath.
“A lovely thought.” Attie wiped the dust from her fingers. “But why have they overgrown into the passages?”
“Maybe when Dacre slept, wild things took over?”
Thoughts teeming, the girls continued onward.
“Do you think there are rats here?” Attie asked as Iris set another crumb down.
“I hope not.” If rats came along and ate her trail of scones, then they would never find their way back to the café door. But so far they had only passed thick curtains of gossamer and spiders with eyes that winked like rubies in the lantern light.
Soon, they came to an intersection, and Iris was surprised to see the firelight that burned in iron sconces on the walls. She hid her lantern behind a cluster of malachite and studied the different routes they could take.
“Wait,” Attie said when Iris began to step forward. “Do you hear that?”
Iris froze, straining her ears. Two breaths later, she heard what Attie did. It sounded like boots marching on the stone, drawing closer.
“Quick,” Iris said, moving back the way they had come. “Hide.”
The girls ducked behind an outcropping of rock and mineral. Iris held her breath as the footsteps drew closer. She dared to peer around their hiding place to see a stream of Dacre’s soldiers, marching through the intersection. Rifles were propped on their shoulders, packs fastened to their backs.
It was as Iris suspected. Dacre would wait until he had pummeled the south side and then call back the eithrals. His soldiers would then emerge through select doors to round up anyone who had survived.
It was Avalon Bluff, repeated on a larger scale.
Which meant Iris and Attie were running out of time; they couldn’t afford to have an interruption like this. Just when Iris was thinking they might need to double back and return above to find another doorway to pass through, the end of the soldiers’ line came in sight.
The girls waited a few beats before they rose and hurried to the intersection. Iris chose the passage with the steeper angle again, even though it was darker than the others.
She could hear her breath, feel her heart pound in her ears by the time they reached a door. It looked similar to the one Enva had shown her, with runes carved into the lintel. Like in the dream, it was locked.
“Is this it?” Attie whispered.
“Yes,” Iris replied, although she didn’t know for certain. But she brought out the key and watched as it fit, unlocking the door.
This time, the passage they walked was overgrown with vines and thorns. Iris had to break her way through, feeling the briars catch in her hair, drag like talons across her face. She might have stopped in discouragement had she not seen the light in the distance. A hazy yellow beacon, woven with the sharp scent of sulfur.
“We’re almost there,” she panted to Attie, hope warming her blood.
Twenty-one thorn-infested steps later, the girls arrived at the boiling heart of the under realm. Iris gazed into the steam, amazed by how vast this place felt. She noticed that the vines ran along the treacherous floor but soon faded, as if they were only there to mark where this passage was located. She turned and looked behind, to see the lintel was thick with thorns, and also noticed the malachite that had grown along it, nearly hidden.
We need to find the doorway marked by thorns and malachite when we return, she told herself before easing forward.
Iris and Attie walked around the pools, stepping over skeletons and iron chains. The sight made Iris shudder, but she continued to break up pieces of scone and leave a trail, her skin shining with perspiration.