Page 267 of Vasmora

Torryn and Lothare strode up, each of the men lifting members of our group onto the other side of the vein.

Another screech.

My stomach tightened.

One by one, everyone climbed to the other side, until the only two left in the trench were Zevander and Torryn.

A familiar anxiety crawled over me, reminiscent of the last time I’d waited for Zevander to cross a trench and he’d ended up falling into a chasm. Pangs of dread chewed at my ribs.

The echo of an ear-splitting shriek sharpened, and I turned toward the far culvert, where something shifted in the darkness.

A creature with long, segmented legs, sharp claws, and the body of a rat stepped into the light of Lothare’s torch. Red eyes. Long fangs. It stood the size of a large dog.

“’The fuck is that?” Torryn said, backing up a step. “A rat?”

Two more of the creatures stepped out from the culvert and barreled toward the two in the trench.

My pulse raced, palms burning with the urge to take life. The air shifted around me, cooling.

White mist swirled toward the beasts from Kazhimyr’s outstretched palm, and a wall of ice formed within the trench that the creatures slammed against, roaring and clawing.

“Get out of the trench! Now!” Zevander shoved Torryn toward the edge where we stood, but the bigger man reached out and gripped his arm.

“I can lift you up the wall! You go!”

“I’m going to ignite the vein! Now, quit dawdling!”

“Ah, you fucking stubborn cunt.” Torryn reached up for Lothare and Kazhimyr, who hauled him up onto the edge of the vein.

Zevander knelt to the floor of the trench, placed his hand over the surface, and closed his eyes.

Movement in my periphery had me looking the other way, where more of the rat mutations had gathered at the opposite culvert.

“Zevander!” Teeth clenched, I raised my hand, and a heavy nausea settled over me as a slow, thick glug pulsed through my veins. I stared back at one of the creatures and closed my eyes over a vision of its heart beating at the same sluggish pace. My hand shook, fingers clenching to a fist around that blackened heart inside its chest, and when I opened my eyes, the rat crumpled in on itself, bones splintering up through its skin.

A cacophony of high-pitched shrieks erupted as the other mutations darted toward Zevander.

Weakness claimed my muscles, and I stumbled back with a gasp.

Again, Kazhimyr sent white mist toward them, a sheet of ice enclosing Zevander in a narrow space between the creatures at either side.

The wolves snarled, Rho barking and squirming in my arms. He jerked hard enough that I nearly dropped him, my muscles listless from having sucked the life out of the mutation.

“Enough!” Fennyx ordered, and the wolves silenced.

The ice walls at either side of us dripped and thinned, Zevander’s glyph flaring to life with glowing, purple fissures that veined the black trench.

“Get back!” he called out, and not a split second later, violet flames exploded over the surface, catching like wildfire across the trench in both directions. The ice shields shattered, hissing into the fire, and the mutations broke into a chorus of shrill wails, as black and violet magma filled the trench, engulfing Zevander and the creatures in a flash.

“Zevander!” I cried out, but at the blast of searing heat against my face, I kicked myself back.

Seconds passed, the piercing howls of the mutations echoing through the tunnel.

To the right of me, a hand reached out, gripping the trench’s edge.

“He’s alive!” Kazhimyr dropped to his knees and gripped Zevander’s hand, before letting out a yelp of pain, backing away. He shook his wrist and opened his palm to reveal red blisters where he must’ve burned himself from the contact.

Zevander hoisted himself up onto the edge of the vein and crawled out.