Page 117 of Elysian

Cassiel’s reaction . . . I shook my head. I could not dwell on that at this moment.

The cenote was what I should be focused on. The blood line led to a stone mountain. I stepped onto the first flat stone. It began the path that wound around the ominous mountain with fog hiding the top.

“We are almost there,” I announced. The incline slowed my stride, the sting at my hip becoming more prevalent.

“Yer about to fall over,” Liadan mused from behind.

“I am fine,” I huffed. Cassiel lifted me into his arms. “Put me down,” I ordered.

Sweat beaded at his forehead, slicking his hair to his skin. His face was drawn and pained.

“Are you well?” I asked.

He nodded jerkily as if it took great force. With the progress we made, it seemed we slowed more and more. Cassiel dragged, breaths pumping from his lips.

Liquid dripped onto his top lip. I reached to swipe under his nose. He caught my hand.

“Your nose bleeds.”

“It is nothing,” Cassiel rasped, swiping his shoulder against his nose and continuing forward. This was the second time he’d bled. I had been with him the entire time, and he had not used his necromancy gift. Now he could not brush me off with that reasoning.

“Cassiel.”

He pierced me with a look. “It is nothing, Amara!” he snapped, teeth bared. I was startled by the volume of his shout. He shook his head hard, sending his hair all about his face. “I am fine,” he insisted and moved forward.

“Very well,” I murmured, subdued.

Liadan raised his eyebrows at me. He, at least, was not fooled.

We reached a cavernous entrance. Large and wide. Cassiel’s grip slipped and my feet slapped on the ground. I held on to him to balance myself on the uneven terrain. The bottom of the slipper protected me from the harsh divots in the floor.

“That scent is familiar,” Cassiel murmured, inhaling. I could smell nothing but damp rocks.

“If this was what was necessary to Awaken a Warlord, how do you not recall the fog or the travel here?” I wondered.

Cassiel scanned the stones, his tongue pushing out the inside of his cheek. “I do not know. All I can remember is this smell.”

“Perhaps your centuries have faded your memories, ancient one,” I muttered, attempting to bring levity into the tension lining his body.

He snorted and reached a hand back to me.

“Let us see what all this is about.”

I slid my hand into his. He helped me balance as I trod over uneven surfaces. A drip echoed through the cavern. The light’s reach lessened the further we entered.

A fallen pick lay against the uneven surface. Cassiel let me go, crouched, and eyed gashes slashed into the stone. Archer took the handle of the pick. The head fell off and he caught it before it landed. The tipped edge was blunt and broken.

“Looks like someone attempted to carve a path and was not successful,” Archer said. Cassiel stood and retook my hand.

“We should have brought a lantern,” Liadan mused from behind us. He sounded weaker.

“How is your arm?” I called, the slight raising of my voice echoed off the cavern walls.

“Hanging on,” he replied.

A laugh escaped, and I clamped my lips shut. “I am so terribly sorry.”

Liadan was chuckling.