Chaos (Lanie Bross) - Lanie Bross Page 0,8

like a clock or oceans were composed of shadows—it had changed him, somehow.

The archer, the necklace he had taken from Rhys, would function as a compass and lead him to another world. It pointed toward Market Square.

When he reached Third Street, the archer’s bow quivered right and left.

Luc’s heartbeat stuttered with it.

The Crossroad had to be close.

The sun had already dipped below the tops of the buildings around him. Power had not been restored to this part of the city yet, so dusk sat heavy; the buildings were dark brushstrokes against the faded-denim-blue sky. With most of the shops in this area closed, the streets were largely quiet and empty of people, except for the sounds of work crews close by.

It was a long shot, but he didn’t have anywhere else to start.

The archer had stopped with its tiny arrow pointed toward the Market Square angel.

Luc circled the angel statue, the same way he had that morning. The archer swung safely on the chain around his neck. He hoped this was an entrance to the Crossroad.

Corinthe had told him to look for something out of place, something not quite right; inconsistencies, flaws in the logical tapestry of the world, were a sign of an entrance. He stared up at the angel, its pose strikingly similar to the enormous, blank-faced statues that had come alive and granted him passage to the Great Gardens in Pyralis.

He did a double take. The angel’s wings had been raised toward the sky earlier, he’d swear it. Now they were folded together, lowered.

The back of his neck prickled and his breathing sped up. Luc looked around to be sure no one was watching, then reached under his shirt to pull out the archer.

It leads you to your heart’s desire.

Rhys.

Luc closed his eyes and chanted the man’s name over and over in his head. He pictured the Land of the Two Suns.

The tiny archer spun around in circles and Luc held his breath. Come on.

For what seemed like an eternity, the archer simply continued to spin. Luc’s chest was tight with impatience. After several long seconds, disappointment numbed his hands. The archer was still turning, as fast as ever. Maybe he’d misremembered the position of the statue’s wings. Maybe he’d wanted to find the Crossroad so badly, he’d invented one.

But just then, the archer stopped, its arrow pointing directly at the statue’s stone wings.

Just like that, Luc was flooded with excitement. His hands shook slightly as he circled the statue. The wings seemed to shimmer in front of his eyes, and when he reached up to touch them, they spread upward in a graceful arch and a flash of blinding light took his breath away.

The force of the sudden winds blew him backward, and Luc found himself falling through darkness and shrieking noise. For a moment, he panicked, and he felt a hundred thousand invisible fingers ripping at his body. He had to focus or he’d be lost in the Crossroad forever.

He gripped the archer and pictured Rhys surrounded by red sand and a black ocean.

Take me to Rhys.

Miranda paced back and forth inside her cell. The constant pulse of this living world, in the walls, the ground, the air, reminded her that her time was limited. Each thump a moment closer to her death.

What did it matter now? Corinthe was dead and Pyralis was intact.

The Unseen Ones had won again.

Miranda hadn’t even fought the Tribunal when they sent several Radicals to bring her back to Vita to await trial. Once, the idea of the Tribunal would have been inconceivable. Once, the Radicals had lived up to their name: full of passion and energy and war. But no more. The Unseen Ones had squeezed them slowly into submission, had turned the Free Radicals into slaves.

The world the Tribunal called home was unlike any in the universe, and though she was being held there as a prisoner, Miranda had to admit that it was a strangely beautiful place.

Strange, to be imprisoned inside a vast living creature.

The bars of her cell resembled twisting strings of DNA, forever moving, undulating, unbreakable. They shone like polished silver, catching bits of light as they moved, and were razor sharp. Each time she stepped close, bits of bright light sizzled along the thread of living molecules, electrifying the bars. Miranda knew that one touch would send a deadly shock through her body.

Her cell hung suspended above the tissuey floor of the main chamber, and a thin membrane resembling skin stretched above and below