Page 77 of Hallowed Games
Howling from the tunnels rose, louder now. It sent shivers over my skin, sparking a primal need to run. But just like all the other horrors in here, it was all in my head.
“Nothing you’re seeing is real!” Percival echoed my words.
The growling grew louder, and my heart skipped a beat as an enormous wolf careened from the tunnel into the round dungeon—exactly like the creatures from the labyrinth.
“It’s not real.” I chanted my new mantra, closing my eyes. And soon, the others joined in with me, until we were all chanting together.
An agonized scream interrupted us, but I kept my eyes closed. “It’s not real,” we chanted.
When I opened my eyes again, my stomach plummeted. I was still seeing a vision of the wolf, rampaging around the dungeon. A man lay dead, his face half ripped off, throat torn out. With a ferocious growl, the wolf leapt onto the flaxen-haired woman. She screamed, but it was cut short as the wolf ripped her apart with a snarl.
My heart pounded as my gaze slid down to the stone floor.
The fucking wolf had a shadow.
I couldn’t breathe. “It’s real!” I shouted.
I had no idea if my touch could kill an animal, but I had to try. While the wolf feasted on the woman’s body, I pulled my glove off. I lunged forward, swiping my hand across the wolf’s head, stroking the inside of its ear.
The wolf yelped, and it unlocked its jaw from the woman’s throat. He’d practically severed her head, and I shuddered. As the wolf staggered back, he turned, stumbling back into the tunnel.
Lydia ran to the woman, touching her forehead. Her body glowed with her healing magic, but it was too late. The woman lay still, mouth agape in horror.
Percival grabbed my covered arm, and I turned to see his brow furrowed, eyes darting around the tunnels. “What’s happening?”
My mouth had gone dry. “That wolf was real. They’re sending…” My voice trailed off. What if they sent more?
The scent of blood hung heavy in the air, and I pivoted to peer down the tunnel the wolf had gone into. Fear vibrated through my bones as I saw four more wolves charging through. I turned again. My blood roared at the sight of another wolf running from the opposite direction.
The stones felt unsteady beneath my feet. “Percival, I can’t kill them all.” I couldn’t breathe.
“Everyone stand away from the tunnels,” Percival boomed. “Now.”
I had no idea what he had planned, but I did my best to shove everyone into the center. As I did, I felt a blast of hot, dry heat behind me. I turned to see Percival hurling an enormous ball of fire down the tunnel toward the wolves. Flames raced from his hands like ink, spilling along the perimeter of the dungeon and flowing into the tunnels.
Holy Archon, he was powerful.
Smoke billowed around us, and we huddled together, coughing. The stones heated beneath our feet.
“Percival?” I shouted over the roar of flames. “Can you put the fires out?”
He turned to me, his face lit by dancing orange flames. Fear etched his features. “No. And I created too much. I panicked.”
So maybe this was how we were going to burn. Not on the pyre, but trapped beneath the earth.
CHAPTER 35
Smoke curled into my lungs, and I coughed deeply. Even though I knew coughing would only pull the smoke deeper into me, I couldn’t help it. I wasn’t like the vampires. I had only one supernatural strength, and that was killing with my touch. I’d burn in a fire; I’d bleed with a blade. So, as the soot coiled into my nostrils and throat, spots darkened my vision. My eyes streamed with tears, and I looked up to see Percival panicking in the dancing firelight. I glanced back at the door. I knew how these dungeon doors were made—vertical and horizontal wood nailed against each other with iron studs, nearly impossible to break through.
The stones felt warm beneath me. The fire wasn’t spreading, but the heat was. Around me, everyone was pulling off their cloaks. Sweat streaked down my temples, and I pulled off my own. Coughing, I also loosened the doublet around my waist.
The smoke had one silver lining—as fatigue sapped our strength and muddled our thoughts, none of us had the energy to attack each other.The deranged, mind-bending hallucinations had started to wane. Maybe the fire had burned out all the toxic mist. Coughing, I leaned against someone’s shoulder. She leaned against me, her blonde hair trailing against my shoulder. I’d recognize Lydia’s smell anywhere—perfumed like primrose, even in here.
The stones burned beneath us, and it was hard not to think of the story she’d told me about the stone cities burning in Sumaire, the victims roasting as they’d tried to shelter in the tunnels beneath the earth.
We’d both loved Anselm. Was that what led us here to these burning stones? A love that dragged us to ruin? Anselm’s face flickered in my memory, a kind-eyed ghost.
Elowen, meet me by the pear trees so that I can taste you—