❝ when she looks into his eyes, she feels the gripping temptation to tell him all her darkest secrets; the names of the men she has killed, but she learned a long time ago that the only people who can keep secrets are resting in overgrown graveyards...
CHAPTER SIXTY-FOUR CHILD OF THE BLOOD MOON ( ii. )
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Underneath the mountain, darkness swallows Calliope no matter which direction she looks. Stalactites hanging from above cast shadows against the dying torch in her hand that make her look over her shoulder. They trick her eyes into thinking someone is following—reaching for her with deadly claws. Every instinct inside her is heightened, and she can't control her rapid heartbeat. Sounds of unknown origin ricochet around her. Sometimes, it just sounds like falling pebbles or quiet footsteps, but others...it's a low growl or eerie, soul-stirring whisper, as if the voices are rising from below. From those dead, buried under the mountain in centuries past.
Her fingers are coiled tightly around the handle of her sword, and Ezlyn follows close behind her. Both of them have their heads on a swivel. Once they had entered the mountain, there was a descending patch of rocks, and then a wide archway leading them towards one destination. There are no forking paths, or hidden alcoves. Just a straight voyage to the end.
The wind howls throughout the cavern. Icy water drips onto Calliope's forehead, and she has never wished for sunlight more in her entire life. This place seems to go on and on, no matter how deep they walk. And neither of them has spotted any guards or hostile forces waiting to attack. That only makes Calliope more nervous, like she's stepping into quicksand or back towards dragon fire. There's no way to tell what lies ahead. All they can do is press further in.
The ghost of a touch on her shoulder brings Calliope to a sudden halt. Chills scurry down her spine, and she whirls around, but Ezlyn is several feet away, her hands at her side, gripping her daggers.
"What's wrong?" Ezlyn tries to speak in a quiet tone, but it expands around them, as if they're in a whirlpool of voices. What's wrong, What's wrong, What's wrong.
Calliope shivers, opening her mouth, but her lips clamp shut when she hears footsteps right next to her.
She moves the torch but is only met with rocks carved into intricate patterns from the changing terrain. An empty, hollow void, nothing in sight but the light flames illuminating her face and a few feet in front of her.
Nothing. Her mind is playing tricks. She's so anxious about what awaits them at the end of the line, that she's driving herself mad. Calliope's shoulders relax.
The assassin faces forward again, bringing the torch with her.
In the faint light, she stands face-to-face with a human-like creature baring its fangs at her neck. Calliope gasps and jumps away. The creature has a mouth, but no eyes. It's at least six feet tall, and it has some type of black liquid pouring from its gaping mouth made up of rows of yellow, lethal fangs.
Its claws reach for her, and it releases an ear-shattering shriek. Calliope swings her sword, slicing its lanky body in half.
