Forest dared to look over the hood of the motorcar. “We need to—”
A bomb exploded on the next street over. Bricks and shingles arced through the air. Splintered wood and fragments of glass and pieces of furniture spilled onto the road. Sarah cowered and screamed, but Forest never closed his eyes. He never let go of her hand, and through the smoke, he saw a clear path to a house with an open door.
He didn’t care if it was ordinary or enchanted. They needed cover.
Forest drew Sarah up and began to run, keeping her as close to his side as he could.
He glanced down at his shadow, spilling across the broken cobblestones and debris as he sprinted. He watched as his shadow grew two long wings, until it was not his shadow at all but that of something else, blocking the sun as if the moon had eclipsed it.
A cold shiver rattled his spine. He quickened their pace, looking up again, his eyes on that open door.
“Forest,” Sarah panted. “Forest, my dad!”
“We’re almost there. Keep running, Sarah.”
They were three strides away from the door when there was a startling bright light, as if a star had fallen. A pressure in his ears, a boom that he felt in his chest.
Even then, Forest never let go of her hand.
{50}
A Lullaby for Doomed Lovers
Roman had been sitting quiet as a statue for some time now, his eyes closed as the eithrals’ wings beat the air overhead, when he heard the distant note of a flute.
It startled him. He couldn’t keep his arms from jerking, the chains clanging in response.
One of the eithrals spotted the movement.
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.