Page 121 of This Shattered Star

The dragon merely blinked. Watched.

I slammed by body against the heavy double doors, and nearly sobbed in relief when they swung inwards with ease. Sparing a final glance upwards, I slipped inside, trembling like a leaf.

There was no victory here. Not yet.

The dragon would likely try to slaughter me on my way out. Itletme enter, knowing it was far easier to catch me this way than chasing me through the forest. A trap in its own right.

It didn’t matter if I got my hands on its treasure. I would never be able to leave with it if it slashed its claws through me right as I walked through the archway. And there was only one exit. Aguardedexit. I had no food, or any water. If I didn’t want to starve within the temple, I had to risk it.

And the dragon knew that, too.

There was no time to contemplate it. That dragon might prefer a waiting game, but others would not. There was no way to tell how many of them existed out here. And I didn’t want to be the poor soul who found out.

Hundreds, if not thousands of books lined the walls around me. The spines, however, were either blank, or titled in anold language I couldn’t read. Stranger still were the symbols scrawled upon a select few. But I wasn’t here for books.

I searched for anything else that screamedmagic.But the entire length of the wide space was empty, save for the books, and fifty dirt-laden pews leading to what must have been a statue, long since turned to dust. Only the base of it remained, a cracked gold plate hanging from its front. From afar, I could spot the letterstandiengraved into the remains. The rest was lost to destruction.

This place was quieter than a crypt, air stale with disuse. Not even the dead lingered here.

Careful not to touch any of the pews while I crept closer to the statue’s remains, I found a lone, spiraling stairwell near its base which led underground.

All it would take was a mighty kick from the dragon above to send the floor, made of the same white stone as the temple’s exterior, crumbling down on my head. But I had no other choice.

I avoided any cracks and divots as I descended, deeper and deeper underground. Staleness quickly gave way to mildew and the scent of damp earth.

An oval-shaped chamber awaited at the bottom.

Instead of books, hundreds of small, transparent vials lined the shelves encircling the walls. Glowing, pearlescent liquid sparkled from within, bright enough that I had to squint when I picked one up to examine.

“This is it,” I whispered. “Thishasto be it.” The magic that would course through my veins and ignite them with power. The magic that would halt my descent into madness.

I glanced towards the stairwell, hoping Kodhan would come running down. But the temple remained as still as death, quiet save for the pounding of my heart and my trembling breaths.

Dread, sour and heavy, slid down my chest, taking root deep within my stomach. We were supposed to do this together. He’d promised he’d be right behind me.

Heshouldhave been right behind me.

Alive. He was still alive. I refused to believe otherwise.

Which meant I had to keep moving. Despite my bravado above-ground, I couldn’t save him from a hoard of dragons with just one blade. Neither could I heal him if he lay injured somewhere.

But with magic, I could.

Muffled by stone, a roar sounded from above as I uncorked the vial’s crystal stopper. The walls of the temple shook with the force of it, sending dust motes raining down from the high ceiling.

The dragon finally decided to act. Or more had arrived. Nevertheless, neither of those options were good. But even a dragon couldn’t act fast enough to stop me.

Throwing my head back, I slammed the vial to my lips, allowing the entirety of its contents to hit the back of my throat.

I expected it to burn—to scald my tongue and throat. But it was like swallowing shards of ice—the liquid thicker than the sap that ran along trees in the spring. I had to swallow three times to clear the entirety of it from the expanse of my esophagus.

It began slowly.

A pounding throb blossoming right in the center of my chest. Then it spread, pulsing through my arms, my stomach, my head. Until that throb gave way to pressure. Crushing, pulverizing pressure.

The worst of Diana’s beatings barely came close to the agony that tore through every fiber of my being.

Like every single bone in my body, from head to foot, was being snapped into tiny bits.