Page 118 of Elysian

Cassiel squeezed my hand. We had come to the point where no light penetrated and all I could rely on was his hand guiding me.

Many close falls later, a glow led to a rounded exit. The jagged edges of the cavern seemed to be teeth. As we reached it, the glow beamed throughout the space. We crossed the mouth into the cenote.

The cenote exuded a light cyan glow. Jagged stones ringed the water. Other than the luminescent glow, it looked to be the cleanest pond I had ever laid eyes on. Cassiel and I approached it; at the edges, pale sand could be seen. The cenote deepened until darkness consumed the depths.

The hair along my arms raised, and something felt terribly off.

“I figured out how they might have gotten him in here without his awareness,” Archer called. I forced my gaze away from the glowing pond with more effort than should have been necessary.

I followed Cassiel to what Archer stared at. Broken remains of carts rested in a mess.

Cassiel rubbed the back of his neck, rolling it. The corners of his eyes remained pinched.

“Are you well?”

“Yes,” he answered abruptly. Sweat slicked the back of his black shirt to his skin.

“There is a body,” Jude called from the opposite side we stood.

Cassiel was there in a blink. It took me a while to reach his side with the uneven ground.

A headless corpse leaned against the wall, pierced through the chest by a sword.

The bones were thicker, longer, yet still humanoid. Clasped in the bony hands was fabric. A corpse, ivory bones. Long and thick . . . fit for a Warlord.

Cassiel grabbed the dusty lapel. His fingers closed on the fabric.

‘Volcan.’

My gasp was the only sound. He spread out the fabric in the bone hands. Frills made up the collar of the dress.

“Why is he holding a dress?” I croaked.

‘It was that redblood woman he loved.’

It was not lost on me that he had only spoken in my head. He pressed the dress back into Volcan’s bone hands and stood up. He rubbed his pinched mouth.

I reached for his arm, and he withdrew. My hand hovered between us. He wouldn’t meet my eyes.

“How do we go about this?” Liadan called.

Archer was already beside the pool, dipping a jar into it. He hissed out a pained breath, wrenching his hand back.

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

Cenote

Cassiel and I reached where Archer crouched. Liadan held the jar while Archer rubbed his hand, hissing.

“Let me see that.” Liadan handed the jar over. I peered inside the clear glass. The black liquid was familiar. “Where did you find this?” I asked Archer.

He was still rubbing his hand. “The water turned into it.”

I turned it inside the jar, watching small bubbles surface. Bringing it to my nose to sniff, I gasped.

My body tensed, recalling the painful sting traveling through my veins. Then I was back to when Al fastened the bindings around my wrists. This was the same liquid Al injected into the effigy. I scoffed. The liquid that made Warlords was the same used to destroy them.

The opposite nature of its aspects was difficult to fathom.