Page 8 of Whispers of Ruin
“I already tried a levitation spell, but I couldn’t pull free of it. I also tried a spell to part it; it didn’t work.”
The sea pulled at her again, jerking her down until he barely held her fingers. She was up to her neck in it now and sinking fast.
Her delicate chin tilted up as she tried to keep her face above the substance.I will not lose her.
“You’re not in this alone,” he told her.
But she was, as he remained safely on a vine while she sank further into oblivion. Pain shot through his broken hand when it tightened on her.
It did little good as, with another jerk, the mire ripped her free of his grasp. Before he could grab her again, the sea sucked her down so fast he didn’t have a chance to touch her fingertips before they disappeared beneath the white sea.
His heart sank as his chest constricted and self-hatred filled him. He’d failed her. He’d promised not to let her go, and he’d lost her.
Beneath him, a sucking whirlpool rose to the surface. He gazed at the swirling depths as they spun faster; no wonder he couldn’t pull her free. That was pulling her away from him the whole time.
Within the twisting eddy, he glimpsed her fingertips, still stretching toward him and the sky as she clung to the hope she could somehow break free of this. But there was no breaking free; he could see that now.
They’d come here on a mission and known there would be casualties. He should pull himself up and get out of here. He was the last one standing, the last hope for the crudue vine and Cole, but he’d never rid himself of the memory of the gut-wrenching terror in her eyes.
The feel of her hand and the electricity that passed between them lingered on his skin. He had no idea what lay below. She might be stuck in this sea for eternity, or it could go somewhere else, somewhere more dangerous, but as her fingers disappeared again, he knew he had no other option.
Whatever lay below, he’d find a way out of it and through the rest of this shithole. He’d find the crudue vine and return to his family, but he could never live with himself if he let her face this alone.
Brokk removed his sword from his sheath, untangled his legs from the vine, and dove into the vortex.
CHAPTERELEVEN
Kaylia’s chestconstricted as the white substance crushed her within its embrace. It twisted her around, spinning her until the world became a blur of white.
She didn’t want to shut out the world; she yearned to take it all in, but when the cloying substance tried working its way into her eyes, it forced them closed. She hated the blackness and the unknown but couldn’t do anything to fight it as it pulled her further into the abyss.
At first, she held her breath, but the substance squeezed her chest until air burst out of her lungs. Wheezing, she tried not to inhale, but her body’s instinctive need for oxygen compelled her to try to get air into her brutalized body.
The second she did, she regretted it. The thick substance coated her nostrils and adhered to her lips as it clogged her mouth and worked its way down her throat. The small grains of it were like sand, but it was thicker and stickier as it clung to every part of her.
Coughing, she tried to expel the substance, but she only succeeded in inhaling more of it. The terror clawing its way up her throat was like a vicious, wild beast seeking to break free, but it had nowhere to go.
The pressure against her chest was reaching a snapping point, and a new fear grew that it would eventually crush her. It would be a horrible way to go, but far preferable to spinning around in here throughout eternity while she became only a husk of a living creature.
She was sure that at any second, her rib cage would implode, smashing her heart and tearing it from her chest to end her. Kaylia couldn’t inhale the sticky substance; her chest wouldn’t rise as the weight bore down on her.
The spinning grew faster, whipping her around and battering her braid against her face. Despite the panic digging its claws deeper into her, that braid pissed her off. She wanted to tear it away from her face, but her hands were caught above her head, making them useless.
And then, like a tornado sucked back into the air, the vortex released her, and she fell. Her arms flailed as she sought something to grasp while tumbling through space.
Her stomach lurched, and bile surged up her throat; she blinked against the substance sticking to her lashes and eyes, but she couldn’t register what she was seeing. She’d spun around so much it was impossible to know where she was, what was up, what was down, or anything beyond the falling.
When she was beginning to think she might fall forever, she crashed onto something. If she had any breath, the abrupt halt would have knocked it out. Instead, every bone in her body screamed in protest while she lay there, curled into a ball on her side.
The stop hadn’t hurt as much as it should have after the fall, but though the ground was solid, it had a rubbery feel. Still, every part of her felt like a berserker had beaten her, and she couldn’t get any air into her lungs, which werescreamingfor it.
Finally, her body started working again as coughs wracked her until she was sure her spine would shatter. Air somehow managed to wheeze past the sticky substance coating the inside of her mouth.
It eased some of the burn in her lungs as she coughed and gagged until her throat was raw, and she was sure her ribs would crack. That sticky shit swelled up her throat, and she managed to lift herself a little before she vomited.
And once she started, she couldn’t stop as more of that awful stuff spewed from her. The force of her purge made tears stream down her cheeks as spasms rocked her.
She was still trying to rid herself of the offending material when something thudded beside her. Despite her inability to get her body under control, her survival instincts screamed at her to face whatever new threat had arrived or run.
