The descent felt like falling and standing still at the same time.
Althea kept her eyes on Lucian's back, the only solid thing in the swirling chaos. The vortex pulled at her, whispers brushing against her mind, promises and threats she couldn't quite make out. She ignored them all and focused on moving one foot after another.
Then the darkness peeled away.
They stood on solid ground again. The space was vast, a cavern so enormous its ceiling was lost in shadow. The walls pulsed with veins of silver and gold light, like the circulatory system of some sleeping giant. And in the center of it all, a figure burned.
Silver fire, guttering low but still defiant, wrapped around a woman.
Lucy.
Althea's breath caught. She was thinner than the portrait, gaunt with exhaustion, her silver hair tangled and dull. But her eyes—those eyes—were open, and they were looking right at her.
"Took you long enough, little brother."
