The air in the tunnels was damp, metallic, and old. Every breath tasted of rust and ash.My boots sank into fine dust as I moved, lantern light bouncing across jagged rock. Fenric followed close behind, carrying a pack that jingled faintly with vials and tools.We’d been walking for hours, chasing whispers through the underbelly of Drakemire.Somewhere in these twisting veins of stone, the Ash Guild waited.“You sure this is smart?” Fenric muttered. “They’re assassins, not diplomats.”I didn’t look back. “We don’t have the luxury of choosing friends. Only options.”“Options that stab people for a living.”“Then we’ll talk fast.”The tunnel opened abruptly into a cavern. A pool of red water shimmered in the middle, glowing faintly from the ember veins that ran beneath it. Stalactites hung low from the ceiling, dripping molten condensation that hissed when it hit the stone. The sound echoed like the ticking of a clock.I halted. “This is it.”Fenric lowered his pack, scanning the shadow

I could tell Fenric was slipping away from me long before I saw the look in his eyes. It began as silent thin cracks in the usual chatter that filled the space between us during our endless treks through the tunnels. Then came the hesitation in his responses, the way he avoided my gaze when we made camp, and the nervous tapping of his fingers against the hilt of his dagger when I spoke of Ithros.Something inside me told me I was losing him. But I couldn’t afford to believe it. After all, he had been the only one by my side since Corin left. I can’t afford to lose him as well, not yet.We had escaped the Ash guild only days before, slipping through the smoke-choked caverns that twisted beneath Drakemire like veins of shadow. My body was still weak, racked by hunger, exhaustion, and something far darker. The shard sickness. Every time I closed my eyes, I could feel it like a storm brewing behind my ribs. The power that wasn’t mine whispered through my veins, begging to be used, promisi