Page 222 of Commanding Blood And Bonds
Carved into the mantle were the Latin words:
Nullus immunis ingreditur. Nullus onere solutus egredietur.
No one enters unscathed. No one leaves unburdened.
The earth gave a deep, resonant rumble, and I blew out a breath—but held my position.
“Oh look, he is a good boy,” Freya said, so saccharine I was developing diabetes. She lowered her torch to a groove at the perimeter of the floor, and I watched in fascination as flame ignited across the border—spreading like gasoline-fed fire. Foot by foot, the trail lit up until two massive stone bowls flared to life beside the opposing archway.
“I am way too elated to give a shit about your perception of me. We’re standing in the crypt of King Koa, aren’t we?”
She gave me a glare, tongue pressing into her cheek. “You say that like he deserves your reverence.”
“Reverence? No. The man was a monster. But fuck me—this place is insane.”
With a roll of her eyes, she waved me forward. “Go look. Just don’t touch anything.”
A chill coasted over my skin as I took the steps two at a time and stopped at the edge of the massive marble casket.
“What do you wager the Umbrabàs is in there with him?” Koa’s legendary sword—said to cleave souls from bodies, no matter their origin. Mortal. Spirit. Demon. With an ego like his, I’d bet good coin he insisted it be buried beside him, just to keep it from other hands.
“The what?” Freya asked, clipped—clearly impatient with my awe. Her focus was already shifting toward whatever came next.
“Big sword?” Jax guessed lamely.
Why were the big guys always so incredibly thick?
I sighed. “Big sword.”
Blowing out a reverent breath, I leaned over the sarcophagus—careful not to bump it—and squinted at the inscription.
Audaces fortuna juvat.
Fortune favors the bold.
“I know I’m interrupting your wet dream,” Freya called, “but unless you’d rather Jax escort me the rest of the way—”
Reluctantly, I straightened, glaring at her. “That tongue of yours is going to get you in trouble one of these days.”
“Don’t I fucking know it,” she muttered.
Her eyes locked on the wooden door set within the archway. Rigid posture. Jaw tight. Whatever lay beyond that entrance wasn’t exactly a cakewalk. The second chamber. The illusions. That’s what she’d warned about outside.
I didn’t want to leave. My curiosity itched to explore every corner.
“I could spend weeks in here and not see everything,” I muttered, staring up at the fractured stained glass dome overhead. Charred vines crept through the cracks and down across the columns, tangling near the gate.
“Whatever gets your rocks off, you psycho. I, for one, would like to get the fuck out of here at your earliest convenience.”
She turned and hefted her backpack off her shoulder. “Okay, Jax,” she said, breath tight. “I need you to put these on.”
She ripped open the flap, pulled out old-school plug-in headphones—and a fucking Walkman.
A Walkman.
“You wanna talk about fossils?”
Who the hell had a Walkman anymore? She ignored me entirely, keeping her eyes on her brother.
