The darkness on the lower shelf was thick enough to chew.
A hundred yards down the slope, Devant sat on a jagged boulder, humming an off-key tune that drifted back to us on the freezing draft. Light and Ilse were both dead to the world, huddled against the basalt wall in a restless, pain-filled sleep.
I lay on my back and stared up at the dark ceiling. My core felt like an abandoned forge, cold and dry and full of ash. Every breath pulled at the black ink lines running up my ribs and neck, and every pull sent a dull, hollow throb through my soul.
Gravel crunched beside me under heavy footfalls.
Kassie stood over me, her black spiked armor blotting out what little light the cavern had. The blood-red cape hung stiff over her shoulder, and her crimson eyes glowed down at me in the dark. She hadn't washed the dragon blood off her gauntlets.
I swallowed. My throat felt like raw sandpaper.
