Page 40 of What Beats Within the Tunnels

A guttural snarl makes me freeze. I see Adira fighting a Spider Wraith to our left, her blade glinting in the firelight as she battles the ghost-like creature. I’ve never heard of a Spider Wraith in the Lamia Realm before. In fact, they are rarely able to cross the boundary around the Shifting Forest. The forest around us is aflame, grotesque Monstrauths rampant, slaughtering hapless humans who don’t stand a chance against them—I hate those fucking rotting skeletons with horns.

A desperate shout wrenches my attention. “Soren!” Lyra’s voice is filled with anguish, and I can feel her panic. Without a second thought, she dashes into the heart of the forest, and I curse as I chase after her. I watch as flames erupt from her, incinerating a pair of looming demons. Soren, his sword gleaming, tosses her a blade. She infuses it with her fire magic, turning it into a deadly weapon. As she cleaves through enemies, her fierceness is undeniably alluring. Fuck, she has become quite the vicious fighter, and it is hot. They seem to have things under control for the moment, so I close my eyes and look through the manifestations I sent out.

Neither of them have found Drew yet.

Forcing my focus back, I dive into the fray. Conjuring roots from the earth, they constrict and immobilize the fiends, allowing me to decapitate them with ruthless efficiency. Lyra follows suit, ensuring no remnant of the beasts remains, setting the corpses ablaze.

Catching a brief lull, I turn to Soren. “What in the gods’ names is happening?”

He’s panting, eyes wild. “It’s the bridge. It’s drawing them here. It’s happened twice now while you’ve been away. Hordes emerging from the shadows, laying waste to everything they get their hands on.”

Lyra’s voice quivers with disbelief, “What are these creatures with wings?” She slams her blade down the throat of one of the Sarrols, its fanged face contorting before catching fire. Damn, I can’t remember the last time I saw a Sarrol in Eguina; the demons are unmistakable with their humanoid form and pointed, membranous wings. And I’d forgotten how ugly they are, too—with their elongated, goblin-like snouts and black, frothing mouths full of needle-sharp teeth.

Soren, his sword slick with ichor, responds, “Blood-sucking fiends, believed to have been purged from the realms. Now they emerge from the bridge. We have to have several people on guard at all times to kill them when they climb out of the ground.” That’s unusual. All the time spent in Zomea, we never saw such creatures. Where the fuck are the Sarrols coming from?

Above, Chepi swoops and dives, his agile form distracting the creatures long enough for either Lyra or me to deliver the killing blow. The haunting shrieks of dying demons and the cacophony of battle echo around us.

One of my duplicates found Drew. I focus my attention through him.

“About time you came back after that stunt you pulled,” Drew says. She’s near Blood Lake, blocking the entrance to the human village.

“I couldn’t let her go alone. Besides, we both know we can’t trust Euric,” I tell her.

“Get her out of here. We have it under control, and I’ll come to you when I can. We’ll talk then.”

“I’m taking her home with me. You know where to find us.”

Drew nods, and I let my manifestations disappear. I’m back next to Soren and can feel Lyra’s exhaustion as if it’s my own. “Lyra, no,” I yell, but I’m too late as I watch her thrust her palms forward, and from it a gust of wind picks up debris, hurling it at the enemies.

She’s going to be too weak to help channel us out of here, and I’m useless alone until we make it closer to Nighthold. I run to her, and then with a swift motion she draws moisture from the air, freezing it into razor-sharp icicles that she launches with precision at the group of Monstrauths before us. It doesn’t kill them, but it slows them down and drops several to the ground. I grab her by the arm right before she drops to her knees…fuck.

“You’re not strong enough for this yet. You’re using too much magic, and it’s weakening you.” I pick her up, tossing her over my shoulder and nodding to Soren before taking off toward the shoreline.

“Let me down. We can’t leave them.” She kicks in my arms to get free, but she’s no match for me. We make it to the edge of the cliffs, and it’s a steep descent to the dock, but I know I can channel us there.

I put her down and grab her by the shoulders, forcing her to look at me. “They have it handled. We need to get you out of here. You’re too weak to channel us back to the Faery realm, and I can’t channel that kind of distance without your help. So until we get all our strength back or make it closer to Nighthold, we have no choice but to get in a boat. Do you understand?”

The anger she radiates is palpable, but she lifts her chin and takes my hand.

Chepi flies into her chest, and I let my essence encircle us with the wind until we channel to the boats down below.

“Untie that side.” I point to the other side of the boat where the rope is tied up, and Lyra gets to work on it while I unravel my side. Once detached from the dock, we push off, and I start to row us in the direction of Nighthold, but several Sarrols swoop toward the boat, their grotesque appearance instantly identifiable by their black, frothing mouths and spiky, deformed wings.

“Keep paddling! I’ve got this,” Lyra shouts, determination clear in her voice. But there’s no chance I’m going to leave her to fend for herself.

One of the beasts lunges into the boat, making for Lyra. To my surprise, it doesn’t seem intent on hurting her. Instead, it appears to be trying to capture her. What the fuck? Another Sarrol swoops from above, talons outstretched, aiming for her. Reacting instinctively, my wings unfurl, and I soar upward, colliding with the creature midair. I snap its neck before it can whisk Lyra away.

Meanwhile, Lyra battles the Sarrol in the boat, breaking its wing with a swift, powerful motion and sending it tumbling into the water. I dive down, plunging into the depths to ensure it doesn’t come back up.

Emerging, I can’t help but wonder how these Sarrols are crossing the bridge and for what purpose. I need to consult Drew about this anomaly. A part of me is tempted to return to Zomea and confront Euric about the true nature of these events. But, for now, the priority is to get Lyra out of this danger and bring her safely home.

The Feral Sea is angry, and the choppy white caps keep flooding the boat with water. We need to get far enough out to sea for things to calm down. The shores around the Lamia realm are always rocky with swift currents. I look across the boat to Lyra, and she’s shivering, drenched in seawater, probably still in shock from what we were just thrown into.

“Are you alright?” I ask, feeling bad for scolding her earlier, but she wasn’t listening, and we needed to get out of there. She nods, her lips pressed together. I release an oar and wave a hand at her, sending my magic to dry her clothes.

“I need to learn how to do that,” she says, perking up a bit now that she’s not wasting energy shivering to death. I row on in silence for the next hour until the Lamia realm disappears behind a fog bank and we are surrounded by the sea. The water is calm now, and I get a good rowing pace going.

“I didn’t know you could channel outside the Faery realm,” she says, drawing my attention back to her.