“What’s wrong?” Bram asks.
“The cervical vertebrae aren’t the only set of bones that come in seven.”
Bram follows my gaze and a slow smile spreads over his face. “The tarsal bones.”
The energy in the room shifts suddenly. Tessa and Niklas both sit up straighter. Jacey lifts her head from her knees.
Talon grabs my foot and plants a kiss on my ankle. “Saskia, you’re brilliant and your ankles are lovely.”
I laugh and kick him playfully. “You might want to wait to sing my praises until we find out whether or not I’m right. But either way, my ankles appreciate the compliment.”
“My darling,” Talon says, putting one hand over his heart, “I’ve always said you had top-notch tarsal bones.”
Bram shifts and scratches the back of his neck. There’s something in his expression I can’t read. He clears his throat. “Let’s start looking and see what we can find.”
Searching through the baskets is more challenging this time. My palms are so hot and clammy, the bones slide though my fingers like they’re covered in butter. I wipe my forehead with the back of my hand.
It takes a while, but finally we gather the seven bones we’re looking for: calcaneus, talus, cuboid, navicular, and the medial, middle, and lateral cuneiforms.
We place them in the indentations one at a time. The air is so thick now, I can scarcely breathe. My throat is dry. Bram holds the last tarsal bone between his thumb and index finger. “Everyone ready?”
“Do it,” Talon says.
Bram places the bone in the small depression, and suddenly the wall begins to move. Cold air rushes toward us and bathes me in relief. We did it. We escaped.
But when I look up, my stomach plummets. The door doesn’t open to the outside.
It leads to another room.
Chapter Seventeen
Icy air snatches the breath from my lungs.
The room stretched before us is the polar opposite of the one we’re standing in. Bright instead of dim. Frigid instead of sweltering. Vast instead of cramped. I don’t dare step over the threshold. But Jacey shoves me aside and practically leaps into the new room, pulling in great gulps of air on the other side.
And then she starts to shiver.
“This doesn’t look good,” Tessa says.
Bram’s jaw tightens. “No, it doesn’t.”
A loud clang splits through the air, and the doors start to slide closed. We have no choice but to step into the next room, or risk getting trapped on the other side.
Frantically, we gather our things. I scoop up Jacey’s discarded cloak along with my own and hurry through the doorway.
“Do we have everyone?” I ask.
Niklas is the last to squeeze through before the door slams shut. “Yes,” he says, out of breath. “I’m here.”
I toss Jacey her cloak and pull my own around my shoulders. My teeth are already chattering. The ceiling soars above us, lit by tiny pinpricks of light that somehow manage to make the room look as if we’re standing in full daylight on a cold, cloudless day. I can’t tell what the walls are made from, because they’re covered in a thick layer of ice.
We move a few steps farther into the room and find a long wooden table with a handful of bones, a mortar and pestle, and tubes full of colorful liquids.
And six kerata.
I run a finger over one of the drinking horns, and a knot of anxiety wedges beneath my sternum. These ingredients look completely different from the ones Jacey used to mix the truth serum. So what are they expecting us to drink?
Everyone else must be thinking along the same lines, because we all start talking at once—and every question is directed at Jacey: What’s going on? What kind of potion do you make with these bones? Is this going to hurt?
“Stop!” Jacey throws her hands in the air. “I don’t know. Let me think for a moment.”
She examines the ingredients, her lips pressed together. And then she shakes her head. “I’ve never seen this combination before. I have no idea what it’s for.”
Talon’s eyes go wide. “We can’t just drink some mystery potion. What if that’s part of the challenge? To see if we’re stupid enough to poison ourselves?”
“It wouldn’t be here if it weren’t necessary,” Jacey says. “At least I don’t think so.”
“Maybe we should hold off on the potion and explore the rest of the room first,” Bram says. “It might give us some hint about what Jacey will be mixing.”
It’s a good idea, and we quickly separate and scour our surroundings. But there’s very little to see. The room is stark white, well lit, and utterly empty but for the table. Small prickling sensations dance across my fingertips. Bram’s lips are tinged blue. We can’t stay in this room long without freezing to death.
“I don’t think we have a choice,” I say. “We’re not going to be able to move forward until we drink.”
Tessa tugs at her curls, spinning a lock of hair around her index finger. “You’re probably right, but I hate the idea.”
Jacey grinds the bones and adds the ingredients one by one. The mixture becomes a paste and then thins to a liquid as she works. Finally she finishes and fills each keras one by one.
“Maybe it’s a warming potion,” Jacey says as she passes them around.
The speculation gives me enough courage to tip the liquid into my mouth. I would do almost anything for a bit of warmth. The potion is sweeter than I was expecting. It tastes good as it slides down my throat. I wait for something to happen, but I feel just as I did before. Cold and all.
“What is that?” Niklas says, his voice filled with revulsion. I follow his gaze and suck in a sharp breath. A hole has opened in the back wall like a giant gaping mouth. Bones dangle from the top and jut up from the bottom.
“Are we supposed to …?” Tessa lifts one hand toward the opening, her sentence trailing off, as if she can’t force herself to finish.
“Go in there?” Talon says. “I think so.”
Bram scrubs a hand over his face. “I’ll go first.” He moves forward without waiting for a reply. Just before he reaches the cavity, a wall of fire erupts in front of him. He lets out a startled yelp and jumps back.
And then I hear a noise.
A high-pitched keening. A plea for help in a voice so faint, I could believe I’d imagined it, if not for my own horror reflected in the others’ expressions.
“Someone is trapped in there,” Bram says. “We have to help them.” But he doesn’t move. His eyes are tight, his body is rigid. A sudden flash of realization goes through me. Bram’s parents died in a fire. This is his worst nightmare.
“Someone else go first,” I say, taking Bram’s hand in mine and gently turning him away from the flames.
The crying grows more desperate.
Talon runs forward and plunges into the fire. But the moment he makes contact, the blaze transforms into water, rushing over his head, engulfing him. His eyes bulge. Instead of swimming to the surface, he flails in the water, his face a mask of panic.
Bram springs into action, diving into the water and yanking on Talon’s arm. But Talon is thrashing so violently that Bram can’t get purchase. The two struggle until finally Bram wraps an arm around Talon’s neck and pulls him to safety.
The moment Talon is free, the water morphs into fire again, and Bram backs away.
Talon sinks to the ground and begins to cry. Great gulping sobs that make him seem years younger than seventeen years. Tessa crouches beside him and takes his hand in hers. She doesn’t say a word; she just sits with him until he calms.
The voice in the fire begins to wail, and my heart pinches tight. How can we help someone we can’t find? I’m so cold, I can’t think clearly. My mind slows. Turns. Catches the thought before it spins away.
“The flames aren’t hot,” I say.
The others look at me with blank expressions.
“We’re not getting any warmer despite the fire. And look, Talon isn’t wet. I
t’s an illusion.”
Slow realization dawns over Bram’s expression. “Based on our fears.”
A band tightens around my throat. I think of Avalina’s comment about Latham dabbling in dark magic … bone potions that induce panic if swallowed.
Tessa squeezes Talon’s hand. “Is that true? Are you afraid of water?”
“I almost drowned asa child,” he says. His eyes are haunted.
“I’m sorry,” Jacey says, her voice small. “If I had any idea what the potion would do, I never would have …”
“Don’t.” I lay a palm on her forearm. “It’s not your fault. There was no other way.”
Niklas groans. “So what do we do now? How are we supposed to get through that tunnel if we can’t even make it inside?”
“I’m guessing it’s like the other challenges and we have to find a way to work together,” I say, eyeing the flames.
“But how?” he asks.
“The only way out is through,” Tessa says, though her voice sounds uncertain.
“Then let’s go through,” I say.
The six of us join hands in one long chain and march toward the flames. Suddenly I’m worried I was wrong—that the fire isn’t just an illusion, that it will scald us the moment we make contact. I hope I’m not leading my teammates to our death. But as we get closer, it doesn’t get warmer. Bram’s hand trembles in mine.
We step through the blaze into a nightmare. I fight through a wall of smoke so thick, I can scarcely breathe. Panic claws inside me. My parents are somewhere close by. I can feel them. I try to call out, but smoke fills my lungs and I erupt in a coughing fit instead. My eyes sting. And then strong arms close around me. Someone pulling me toward safety. But I don’t want to leave without my parents. The fresh air that rushes at me brings relief, but also shame. Flames lick up the side of a cottage. I left them there. A drumbeat grows inside me. My fault. My fault. My fault.
A hand tightens around mine, but when I look, there’s no one there.
And then I remember. Bram. This is his nightmare, and he needs my help to survive it. I try to open my mouth, but the illusion is too strong. Too real. I force myself to try again—he needs my help.
I squeeze his hand. “You’re safe. It’s not real, Bram. You’re safe.”
Abruptly, the vision dissipates. The six of us stand hand in hand at the edge of the cavern. Despite the cold temperature, Bram’s face is covered in sweat. He’s shaking. The rest of us are too.
“What was that?” Talon asks.
“Bram’s parents died in a fire,” I say quietly. “He was very young.”
Bram’s expression changes. His eyes are soft, alive with some new realization. His fingers tighten briefly around mine before he lets go.
“Whoa,” Talon says. “That must have been …” He shifts his weight from one foot to the other, his face full of emotion. He was obviously as immersed in Bram’s memory as I was, and he looks shaken. Talon claps him on the shoulder. “I’m so sorry.”
Bram nods in acknowledgment.
Niklas clears his throat. “Should we keep going? If we wait, I’ll lose my nerve.”
We move into the mouth of the opening. Bones dangle from the roof like icicles and push up from the floor like spikes. It’s too narrow a space to join hands, so we move single file, staying as close as possible to one another.
Jacey takes the lead, placing each foot carefully. We all seem to have the same instinct to avoid contact with the bones. I try to step precisely where she steps, moving as cautiously as possible through the space. It seems to be working.
And then Jacey trips.
I reach out to steady her, but I’m not fast enough. Jacey’s hand juts out and grabs one of the bones near her knee. She yelps as it stabs her palm.
We all freeze. Jacey presses on the wound with her opposite hand. A fat drop of blood falls to the floor.
And the world goes dark.
I’m swept off my feet and stuffed into a tight space. My knees are wedged beneath my chin, and my back aches as if I’ve been in the same position for hours. Rough fabric covers my face, scratching at my cheeks and pulling toward my mouth with every breath. My entire body sways slightly as if—cold horror seeps into me—as if I’m stuffed in a bag dangling from a tree. I try to claw my way out, kick my feet, raise my arms above my head, but the space is too tight, and the only thing I succeed in doing is making the bag swing more violently.
My nose is filled with the scent of rot and death.
Nausea pushes up my throat. How did I get here? My thoughts spin wildly, grasping for something just out of reach. I’m too constricted to think clearly.
I don’t do well in enclosed spaces.
Jacey. As soon as her face floats into my mind, I hear a piercing scream next to me. It’s as if my mind has punched through the illusion and allowed a pinprick of reality to seep in.
This isn’t real, I tell myself. My feet are on solid ground. There’s nothing blocking my nose or mouth. It’s not real.
Slowly, the room comes back into focus. Jacey is crouched at my feet, rocking back and forth, her fist shoved into her mouth. Tessa are Niklas are both curled in a fetal position. Bram and Talon stand near each other, wide-eyed and frozen. I wonder if we’re all experiencing precisely the same thing, or if the potion works with each of our minds to create something unique—a custom-tailored agony.
I kneel next to Jacey and wrap my arm around her shoulders. “Jacey, can you hear me? It’s Saskia.”
Her head tilts in my direction, but she doesn’t stop moving. “It’s not real, Jacey. You’re safe.”
I keep talking softly to her, and gradually her eyes focus. “Saskia?”
I squeeze her arm. “Welcome back. Now help me with the others.”
As we remind the others of where they are, of what is real and what isn’t, Bram’s words float through my mind: The Fortress doesn’t train soldiers to fight. It trains them to survive torture.
And I realize I lied to Jacey earlier. She’s not safe.
None of us are.
We wouldn’t have the courage to move forward if not for the cold. But my skin prickles with needling sensations. What if the cold is causing irreparable damage? We have to keep going.
The cavern has so many twists and turns, it’s impossible to know how far we have left to go. Each time we turn a corner, I’m hopeful we might see the exit, but so far, it’s been nothing but an endless maze of fear.
Avoiding the bones is the only strategy that makes sense, but it’s nearly impossible to execute. Niklas brushes against the tip of one bone while trying to dodge another, and suddenly a sea of enormous spiders emerges from the floor and races across our toes. Tessa screams and tries to kick them away. But her foot makes contact with another bone, and we’re subjected to an image of her father—drunk and raging—that makes us all feel as if we’re five years old, helpless and scared.
“I can’t do this,” Tessa says, once we’ve finally managed to pull ourselves from the illusion.
“You can,” I tell her. “You are.”
But I’m not sure I can do it either. My nerves are stretched so thin, I feel like I’m fraying at the edges.
As horrible as the hallucinations have been, none of them have belonged to me yet, and waiting—worrying about what might manifest—is its own kind of torture. Will I see the prison boat? Gran’s death? My mother’s?
Does it count as a fear if it’s already happened?
Maybe if I’m very careful, I can avoid getting sucked into an illusion.
The terror would be bad enough, but giving my teammates a glimpse into the dark recesses of my mind—to have all my protective layers peeled away until I’m laid bare—is even more frightening. What would they think of me if they knew I was using unbound magic? Would they see me differently if they knew how often I fantasize about making Latham suffer?
I move slowly, keeping my arms tucked at my sides, watching every step. A variety of smaller illusions jump out a
t us as we brush past the bones—a group of peers mock us from the sidelines, calling us cowards and laughing at our failures. The floor in front of us seems to vanish, leaving us perched on the edge of precipice. We fail apprenticeships and get sent back home without our cloaks.
Finally we round another bend and an exit comes into view. Hope leaps in my chest, and I quicken my pace, mindful to place my feet carefully.
“Saskia!” Bram’s hand shoots out to grab my wrist. “Watch your head.”
But he’s too late. A razor-sharp bone grazes my scalp. I let out a startled cry of pain and press a palm to my head. My hand comes away bloody. No.
If I can just get to the exit …
I start to run, heedless of the other bones. I keep my gaze glued to the spill of light ahead that gleams like a ray of hope.
And then Latham steps into the cavern. His hands are shoved casually into the pockets of his cloak, and he gives me a smile that manages to look carefree and menacing at the same time.
“Hello, Saskia,” he says. “Going somewhere?”
My muscles go rigid.
“You’re not real,” I tell him. “You’re just a figment of my imagination.”
He laughs—a genuine laugh, as if I’ve actually amused him. “Am I? I had no idea. Then what a marvelous imagination you must have.”
A chill inches down my spine. “You aren’t here.”
“Of course I am.” He takes a step toward me. Not real. Not real. But no matter how I try to convince myself, the illusion won’t dissipate. He takes another step. I shrink away, and back into Bram. He puts a reassuring hand on my shoulder.
“Don’t listen to him. You’re all right.”
But wait. Remembering that Bram is here should be enough to pull me back to reality. That’s how it worked with all the other fears.
My pulse is erratic. Does this mean it’s not an illusion? Is Latham really here?
“Go,” I tell him. “My friends won’t let you kill me. Not here. Not now.”
“Oh, I disagree—I think now is the perfect time. You’ve spent the last several hours terrified.” His eyes flick to Bram. “And you’ve never been more in love. Your bones would be particularly powerful if I killed you now.”
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