Tw: this book will deal with triggering topics. If you are easily triggered this is not the story for you, thank you.
(Book three in the Starlight series)
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Danika Archeron was a damn god.
No longer would she be broken, no...
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"Who are you, sweet creature?"
─── · 。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
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THE THICK AIR inside the prison was like wading through the unstirred air of a tomb. Like stealing a breath from the open mouth of a skull.
We both bore an Illyrian blade in one hand, the faelight bobbing ahead to show the way, occasionally dancing and sliding along the shining metal. Our other hands...Cassian clenched my fingers very tightly while we descended into the eternal blackness of the Prison, our steps crunching on the dry ground.
But behind that solid, black rock, I could still feel them. Stronger than I had been able to last time. As if the very essence of the things that lurched in these cells flitted against my bones. Screamed in my ears. I could have sworn a faint scratching sound filled the passage. From the other side of that rock.
As if someone were running their nails down it. Something old. And quiet as the wind through a field of wheat.
Cassian kept utterly silent, tracking something—counting something. I did too, noting the walls and their grooves in a way I hadn't last time, memorizing the turns we took and amount of stairs we descended.
"Are you ready for this?" I whispered to Cassian, the stone so solid that even the murmur of my words seemed to echo.
"I feel like I should be asking you that." he murmured back. "This feels like a bad idea."
A soft snort. "This is war. We don't have the luxury of good ideas—only picking between the bad ones."
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The Bone Carver's cell door swung open the moment I laid my palm to it.
"Worth the misery of being Rhys's mate," Cassian quipped as the white bone swung away into darkness.
