Page 110 of A Thread of Breath and Bone

I don’t move.

Finn sighs and walks through, muttering something about her needing a personality adjustment.

“Don’t worry,” Carys says, “We’re all going.”

Brynna follows Finn through, and then Ryker takes my hand.

This time, as I approach, I marvel at how the light bends around the opening. It’s really as if a rip in the world has occurred. The strange buzz of energy knocks me breathless as I step into the pouring rain, slipping on my cloak and pulling up the hood.

Carys steps through after us, followed by Riven, who mutters something, and with a wave of his hand, the gateway seals, leaving only a mountainside of trees and plants.

We’re on a slope, and the ground is sodden, but not muddy. We follow Brynna and Finn as they lead us further into what looks like a valley. Across from us, I can see the other mountain.

Long minutes stretch as we move further down the mountain until we eventually come to a large cliff edge that drops so far below, I can’t see the bottom.

Ryker whistles beside me.

“Time to tell us where we are,” I demand.

Before Brynna can say something snarky, Finn says, “Raea, the council elders have requested a visit.” He crosses his arms, and it's only then that I realize he’s wearing brown leather pants and a basic tunic. Why are we so dressed up? He must notice because he snorts.

“The clothes are for your next meeting.” Without another word, he turns back around, facing the open valley. “Just don’t think about it,” he says over his shoulder as he steps off the edge.

I race forward to grab him, but he vanishes in thin air.

“Well, that was interesting,” Ryker mutters, wrapping a hand around my waist and tugging me away from the edge.

Riven steps up beside him. His dark hair is plastered to his face, and the shining silver armor he wore on the beach of Malaya is nowhere to be seen. Today, he’s dressed in black leather with a sword strapped to his back. I have no doubt that this warrior before me is as lethal with or without the uniform. “It’s the entrance to the council chambers. You’ll feel disoriented for a few seconds, but you’ll land on solid ground.”

Carys walks toward the edge and, with a small smile, steps off.

Brynna rolls her eyes at us and follows her sister.

“I’m sure it’s not easy, but trust me.” Riven pats Ryker on the shoulder. “I’ll wait for you to go first.”

Ryker pauses, looking to me. I stare at the edge of the cliff. Surely they aren’t bringing us here to die. I mean, why rescue us only to kill us? With a long exhale and my stomach swirling, I move to the edge once more. “Together?” I ask Ryker.

He takes my hand, and with a squeeze, he says, “Together.”

I don’t know why I hold my breath, but I do. I’m expecting the sensation of falling, but instead, I feel like I’m being twisted and wrung out. My insides lurch, and my head spins, but before I can scream, it all stops, and we stumble into a stone hallway.

A moment later, Riven steps in behind us. Ryker and I are the only two gasping for air. With a few minutes to clear our heads, Finn leads us into an opening, and my jaw drops.

The chamber is a masterpiece of dark stone floating in the heart of the valley, anchored by pillars that rise like sentinels against the raging storm. Outside, the rainforest is a blurred wall of green and gray, but the invisible dome above us shatters the downpour into millions of glittering diamonds that slide away in silent rivers. The air here feels ancient, vibrating with a frequency that makes the temples back home look like children's toys.

Torches illuminate each pillar in a soft glow, and the ring above that connects the pillars has an inscription—Elvisiah.

Thal’ven ai’loren, sil’aen vel’thir, ael’sera nor’enai. Ai’thor vel’skyren, ilen raen’lor thir’ael.

“We are the roots of remembrance—keepers of what has been, watchers of what yet waits. That Sky may rise in harmony with root, and all worlds endure, unbroken,” I mutter as I read.

“Very good,” Finn praises.

I feel my cheeks heat as I continue working my way around the room. Before me are five large thrones carved from the mountain itself. At the crest of the arch are five jewels: emerald, sapphire, opal, onyx, and ruby.

“They’re here,” Carys announces, moving to the center of the room, her gown made of the finest silk and hundreds of little diamonds.

Where Brynna is short like me, tan, built like a small warrior, and dressed like one too, Carys is softer, taller, and more regal. Her pale skin and light blonde hair glow. Her blue eyes reflect the shade of the frozen ocean, and there’s something about her that screams of royalty.