symbol rolled over her, their whispers scraping her skull.
Who are you?
Who are you?
Who are you?
The underground vaults honeycombed out in a maze of labyrinthine passageways and caves. Haven caught up to Nasira near the first vault, where the rare scrolls and books were kept. If only that’s where the Godkiller was kept, but no. It was secured in the deepest vault, which meant racing down treacherous, crumbling steps two at a time for nearly an hour.
This deep in the earth, it was easy to lose track of time and surroundings. But Haven always knew when they approached the last vault. The Godkiller’s cunning magick warped everything around it. The jet black walls. The air. Even the magick of her torch crackled and guttered beneath the corrupting pall of twisted power.
Heat blasted up the stairwell in waves.
Without a word, Nasira threw up a shield of cold to protect them from the fiery temperatures. The stairs became a single pathway tattooed with countless pale blue runes that glowed as they passed.
They stepped out onto a huge ledge, the air choked with smoke and embers.
All around them was a giant cavern big enough to fit Fenwick Castle and some of the gardens. A lake of fiery orange magma bubbled hundreds of feet below. In the middle of that ocean of flaming death was a stone pedestal, ringed by three pairs of massive stone wings.
And centered atop the wings, chained and bound by practically every protection spell in existence, was the Godkiller.
Any other weapon would have melted from the boiling miasma of heat. Then again, any other weapon wouldn’t be casting out its senses like a net, each thread of that immense power glittering with razor-sharp barbs with one sole purpose: snare anything that breathed into complete subservience.
Part of her always hoped to find the weapon a little damaged. The eye not quite so bright or the wings over the hilt misshapen.
Something.
And always there the blasted thing waited, defiant and untouched, that red eye blinking merrily as it roved the cavern until it latched onto her.
I was looking forward to seeing you again, the Godkiller whispered. He will be pleased.
The tension in her chest softened as she realized the inhuman voice coming from the weapon wasn’t the Shadeling’s. Her father hadn’t spoken to her from the dagger since the attack on Solethenia when she slid the blade into Stolas’s chest.
When she killed him.
You shouldn’t be, she spat back, refusing to flinch beneath the eye’s unblinking stare. If it were up to me I would have sunk you in the lava the first day here.
Fire can’t hurt me, child. Your mother learned that the hard way . . . right before my loving caress found her traitorous bitch heart.
The cruel words stuck a visceral reaction inside her, and she flashed teeth. Something can. And when I discover what that is, I will end your miserable existence.
Liar, the weapon whispered as its depraved magick slithered over her skin. Seeking purchase. A crack in her defenses. A foothold in her mind. You crave me, I can feel it. You want to let me in. You need me—
Blasting her light magick outward, she repulsed the blasphemous evil and was rewarded with . . . laughter. Horrible, malicious, wicked laughter that rocked the cavern and sent loose rocks splashing into the magma below.
“What was that?” Nasira demanded, her appraising gaze never leaving the weapon. “Did it say something to you?”
Haven’s throat felt raw and sandy as she tried to swallow. No one else ever reported the dagger speaking to them, and admitting she shared a connection with the weapon felt . . . shameful. Like a dirty secret.
“The weapon’s angry. Same as always.”
“Of course it is,” Nasira said. She had finally torn her curious gaze from the dagger and was busy turning nearby sparks into monstrous creatures of fire and ash. “The Godkiller is bored. Something this powerful was made to annihilate Gods, not live chained and bound.”
Something in Nasira’s voice made Haven uneasy.
The first night intruders breached their wards, Nasira had begged Haven to take the Godkiller and launch an assault on the Sun Court. With Haven’s growing powers and the weapon’s untapped magick, there was a chance they could have succeeded.
Haven had toyed with the idea for longer than she cared to admit. Especially after the first child was killed in the raids.
But outright killing the new Sun Sovereign wouldn’t make them safer from the Shadeling. In fact, the bloody, chaotic war that followed would destabilize their