Page 271 of Vasmora

I opened my eyes and stared down at him captured in my arms.

So still. So peaceful.

I kissed his forehead just as another wave of tears broke over me. Movement in my periphery drew my attention to Zevander collapsing to his knees beside me, eyes on his brother and brimming with tears. The muscles in his jaw clenched, his will like a storm that refused to break. The pain in his eyes was so unbearably heartbreaking, I had to look away.

His hand slipped across mine as he cradled Branimir’s neck and pressed his forehead to his. Like a crumbling bastion, he finally broke, clutching his older brother’s frail, ravaged body against him.

I wrapped my arm around him, burying my face in his hair. “He is at peace,” I whispered and kissed his temple.

Zevander held him a moment longer, then pulled away, his red-rimmed eyes the only evidence of his grief, his expression remarkably stoic as he stared down at Branimir. After placing the mask back over his face, he pushed to his feet and reached out a hand for me. “We have to leave him,” he said, his voice tight.

With a reluctant nod, I slid out from beneath Branimir and gently laid his head on the ground. It was when I pushed to my feet that I noticed Zevander had gotten Rykaia free. Her body lay draped in Torryn’s arms, not a single injury marring her skin.

Protected by her older brother.

Zevander raised his palm, his hand shaking.

I slid my hand over his to steady him and a burst of heat flashed across my skin as he set his brother aflame. Sablefyre swallowed Branimir to a fine dust, and atop the ashes sat a black and red stone that Zevander reached down and pocketed.

Dust crumbled from the ceiling overhead, bits of stone raining down.

“We need to move. I don’t trust this ceiling to hold,” Lothare said.

“We need to find his nest and get that amulet. He’ll suffer for my brother’s death,” Zevander gritted through clenched teeth.

A familiar shriek echoed through the room, and I turned toward where dark shapes crawled over the webs above us.

Not the spiders.

The humanoid mutations.

Hundreds of them. Teeth bared.

Eyes hungry.

CHAPTER SIXTY-FIVE

MAEVYTH

“There are too many of them.” Despite the ferocity in his tone, Lothare’s voice held a trace of dread as his gaze swept the ceiling overhead. “We’ll be slaughtered within minutes. We have to get out of here.”

“If we go back the way we came, I can get us on the other side of the flame.” Zevander glanced around. “Unless there’s a closer way out, Gavroche?”

“You’re abandoning the search for Cadavros?” Kazhimyr asked.

“Half our group is injured. I’m ensuring everyone’s safety before I go looking to pick a fight with a god.”

The boy pointed toward one of the statues that lay crumbled on its side. “Behind it!”

“This way!” Zevander called out, taking the lead.

I once more gathered Rho into my arms, determined to keep the pup alive, even if the odds were no longer in our favor.

Gray, lifeless forms dropped from the ceiling with a hollow thud amid and around the web-woven bodies dangling in their cocoons, until dozens of humanoids blocked our path.

Zevander backed up a step, yanking his sword free. He threw forth his sablefyre, sweeping it over them, the flame crackling, exploding over the cocoons and whatever they held.

The silken husks caught quickly, igniting into violet flashes that rained ashes onto the floor and exposed the creatures hidden behind them.