Turning my back to the wall, I cross carefully to the center of the room. Four stairs lead me up a dais. The circle of my torchlight brushes against the base of a throne. I approach the old stone chair, bringing the light nearer. The back of the seat is fashioned into the head of a dragon with its jaw open, poised to devour its occupant. The rest of the dragon’s serpentine body winds around the heavy feet. This was Ki’s throne. I can imagine her ruling from here, deep in the heart of the jungle she dominates. But why does a dragon decorate her place of power?
Ki’s throne room is belowground, where her territory meets the demon Kur’s. Perhaps Ki came here to visit Kur, and the story of their being lovers is true. I cannot think of another reason why she would rule from a throne shaped into the symbol of a demon.
Breathing sounds again, closer.
I thrust the torchlight out in front of me. “Show yourself,” I demand shakily.
The air stirs behind me. Nothing emerges from the blackness, but the hairs on my body rise. Something lurks in the dark. In the Void.
In front of me, behind the throne, two blue eyes blaze. I cannot see what they belong to, but they smolder with a fire that is strange to mankind. They are more darkness than light, like what remains after a star collapses.
The rank marks on the backs of my hands burn. Wincing in pain, I nearly drop the torch, but I maintain my grip on the light. Whatever creature dwells in this shadowed lair burned me—and it is not of this world.
I force my knees to bend and my feet to move. I back up and follow the wall around the chamber. All the while, the blazing blue eyes watch me. Behind the dais, a doorway leads to an antechamber. I crest the threshold and run. My footfalls resound off the walls and come back to me, as though I am being chased. I push myself faster. The antechamber empties into a corridor. Then another. The hallways weave endlessly, and soon the floor inclines. I climb into warmer air and pause for a breath. I see no signs of the soulless creature following me, but I press on.
Before long, exhaustion drags my pace, and my torch burns low, near to extinguishing. No, don’t go out. I will never find my way out of here without light. I scan the ground with the dying torch to find its replacement and see dead roots near a short alcove. I crouch over the roots and wrench on the loose wood.
Something hisses.
I freeze with my arm outstretched. A black snake lifts its head level to my face and spreads its neck ribs into a flat, wide hood. I recognize the viper’s diamond markings from the popular depiction of Ki. A dragon cobra.
The torchlight goes out.
Gods above.
Another hiss pierces my chest. Darkness conceals the cobra, but it is near. I slowly pull back my arm. Resting both palms on the ground, I brighten my fingers to a glow. In the dimness, I distinguish the shape of the serpent before me, coiled to strike. I dare not reach for my dagger while in its striking distance.
Ever so slowly, I shift my body weight from my arms to my knees. The dragon cobra stands higher and waits for me to move again. For an excuse to strike. Venom hides in its fangs. Another sort of danger hides inside me.
I push more light into my hands planted on the ground. The dirt around them smokes, and the cobra recoils from the awful burning smell. I quickly grab the snake behind the head. The viper’s jaws unhinge, opening to bite, and its body whips against my arm. I scorch its neck, pushing in the full heat of my powers. Its leathery skin around my hand turns dry, and the cobra’s body slackens. I drop it and withhold my inner light. Shadows sink through the world.
It’s dead. It’s gone.
I wait for my heartbeat to calm and then light my hand with my powers. The cobra lies still before me. Beside it, an ember burns in the dirt where I created the smoke. The small light is not intimidating like a campfire or a full flame, but it is still nature-fire, born of me. I scoop up the ember in the dirt, cradling it in my palm. I can sense its light fading. As I am fire, and fire is me, I am responsible not to let it go out.
I call to the ember with my powers, not pushing but singing and coaxing. Come to me. Bring me your warmth. Show me your light.
The ember brightens. I call to it again, encouraging it to grow, and a flame juts up. I pull away the rotted branch and touch the end to the tiny flame. The fire licks at the wood hungrily and soon feeds.
I gawk at the torchlight. I controlled nature-fire.
The cobra’s corpse lies at my feet—the something deadly I need to complete the skill demonstrations. After setting aside the torchlight, I cut off the snake’s head with my dagger so no one can tell I scorched it to death and then sling the viper’s body over my shoulder and set off with my torch.
I follow the sloping floors up for a long while. Exactly how much time has passed since I was locked inside the ruins, I cannot say, but my feet and legs ache from walking. The vines grow thicker and greener along the walls. Roots burrow across the ground. I lunge over one and slow to inspect the wall they tunneled under. A crack zigzags across the solid stones. I lower my face, and fresh air kisses my cheek.
At last. I drop the dead cobra and prop up the torch for light. I kick the crack in the wall hard. A handful of pebbles crumble, widening the fracture. I plunge my blade into the crack and pry off more stones, working until the fissure grows to a hole the size of my fist.
Dusky light filters inside. I slam my elbow into the wall, and the crater expands. Still, it is not big enough. My legs quake with exhaustion. Perspiration drips down my back and face. My fatigue implores me to rest, but this is the way out.
Beyond this wall is Iresh. Beyond this wall is Deven.
I search for something hard and pick up a stone. Using it as a hammer, I beat the outlet, opening the gap as wide as my hips. I toss the dead cobra out the hole and pull my upper body through. A sharp edge slices my underarm. I ignore the pain and wiggle out to my hips. One final shove, and I fall outside, panting. Lying on my back, the sky lightens before me.
Dawn has passed. I am out of time.
No. Citra will not win.
I push up to my knees. The jungle looks the same in every direction, so I climb atop the temple ruins and explore the skyline for the palace’s golden dome. Like a coin glinting in a pond, it appears in the sky. My whole body aches, but I have a ways to go yet. I scurry back down to the ground, toss the dead dragon cobra over my shoulder, and hike east.
My late arrival to the Beryl Palace, filthy and blood speckled, garners me an armed escort from a pair of entry-door guards to the throne room.