Chapter 55

Chapter Fifty-Five

Malakai

“I don’t like it,” I muttered as we stepped into the atrium and the doors closed behind us with a thud.

No one had opened them to allow us in. At least, no one visible. I cast a perturbed glance over my shoulder, and my chest tightened. The streams were louder now, the babbling crowding my head.

“It’s not that bad,” Tolek tried to assure me, but even he was surveying the chamber with a narrowed glance. Four archways led off the atrium, positioned like points of a compass.

I gave him a blank look. “It’s practically a house of death.”

Tolek chuckled as we all shuffled deeper into the room, hands in reach of our weapons. “You can return to the pleasure house instead if you’d prefer.”

I shoved his shoulder. “I would prefer that to spirits and their secrets. It’s unsettling in here.” My heart thundered.

“It’s like any other historic site.” He seemed unbothered by the ghostly presence wrapping through the air, but his eyes flashed to the hand I hadn’t realized was rubbing my sternum and back to the closed doors, and he understood why it was stifling to me. Tolek clapped a hand to my shoulder. “Let’s do this as quickly as possible.”

“Yeah,” I agreed.

As Tolek continued ahead, a hand squeezed mine. I turned to Mila, and she brushed her thumb across the scar on my jaw, silently saying she knew what memories the sealed doors woke. That she was here to remind me I got out.

Lifting her hand, I kissed the gold cuff around her wrist, returning the favor. Mila inclined her head, and we stepped deeper into the atrium.

Mystlight hung in a giant orb high up in the point of the vaulted ceiling. Veins of bronze and speckles of amethyst dotted the alabaster marble, shining in that glow. It draped all the way through the spacious chamber, highlighting the towering winged statue of Xenique in the center that Erista strode straight toward.

She knelt at her Angel’s feet and muttered a prayer. Vale, Mila, Lyria, and Jezebel mimicked her routine, offering their own respect to the Soulguider Prime Warrior.

Ophelia and Tolek exchanged a look, the latter inclining his head, and they followed.

“Aren’t you going to offer prayers?” Santorina whispered to me.

I shrugged. Perhaps it was sacrilegious—it definitely was—but I wasn’t sure how I felt toward any of the Angels, let alone one of another clan. “We’ll see how tonight goes, then I’ll decide.”

Santorina hummed in agreement, ambling ahead to catch up with the others as they migrated away from the statue. I stood at Xenique’s feet for another moment. She didn’t look down at the warriors before her. No, the statue’s gaze was directed out, toward one of the only blank stretches of wall between the arches. At her feet lay two creatures, carved from the same bronzed metal.

“Sphinxes,” Mila said, lingering with me.

Unlike the carvings atop the gate outside, these were not only the bust left to be determined. These were bodies of lions—almost like a nemaxese—each with the head of a woman and great wings tucked into their backs. And this pair laid protectively at the feet of their Angel.

I swept my gaze over the rest of the atrium. This was the only statue but between the arches off the circular room, tapestries depicted the Angel in various states. Sphinxes littered the decor, but in tiny details. The borders and backgrounds, never the center.

“Not only at the gates, then,” I observed.

“I suppose we were right about them,” Mila said. “Now let’s hope whatever riddles their house holds are nothing too arduous.”

A chill trickled down my spine, and we turned our backs on Xenique and her mystical creatures. A part of me hoped it was for good.

The others were headed toward the archway directly ahead, at the top of the large, bronze crescent moon carved into the marble floor, amethyst speckles twinkling like stars around it.

As Mila and I caught up, a groaning echoed to our left. We all spun toward it, swords whining as they were pulled.

“What in the fucking Angels?” I muttered.

There, in the bare stretch of wall Xenique’s statue faced, a fifth archway now loomed.

This one was different than the others. Where darkness pressed behind each of the original four, waiting for mystlight to flare within, this one glowed with a very dim silver-blue light and swarmed with fog.

“It’s a Hall of Wandering Souls,” Erista breathed, as if we should know what that cryptic explanation meant.

“Looks inviting,” I deadpanned, rubbing at my sternum.

Tolek choked on a laugh at my side, but Erista remained serious. “It’s where those who don’t flow within the streams remain. There’s supposedly one in every Gates of Angeldust, but they’ve never been seen except on rare occasions.”

“You mean”—Rina gasped, looking between Erista and the new arch warily—“the spirits in there never find eternal rest?”

Erista shook her head, curls framing her mournful expression. “Not all souls find peace. Some are rejected by the streams’ waters, some die with such unresolved disputes, they can’t move on. Some simply are not ready and linger in this realm. They can’t be given free reign over Gallantia, so they reside in a Hall of Wandering Souls.”

I peered into the Hall’s misty gray. The same speckled marble floor continued from the atrium, veiled a few dozen feet in by…was that stuff that seemed like fog actually spirits? Floating there between the marble and stone carvings lining the walls? Angels, I hoped not.

“Sounds like a sorry existence,” I muttered to Tolek.

“What would possess a soul not to rest?” he whispered back.

“Unfinished business?” Lyria suggested, and I didn’t want to know what that could mean.

A chill spread down my spine, and I shook it off, shifting closer to Mila. “Should we keep going?” I angled my head toward the original archways.

The group started to turn, a bit reluctantly.

But Erista stood her ground. “The Hall does not usually open.”

And all of our attention swiveled to her. Her eyes were slightly glazed, like the magic was taking a toll on her.

“What do you mean?” Ophelia asked.

“It is not meant to welcome newcomers.” Her voice drifted with breathy worry. “And if it does open, it is said that anyone nearby with Soulguider blood must respond.”

“Respond how?” I asked, eyes narrowing.

Erista looked at Jezebel and Ophelia. “We must enter.”

In the silence following her words, only those damn streams in the distance could be heard, soft enough that they grated on me.

“Okay,” Tolek said, “then let’s get it over with.” He waved a hand toward the arched doorway, and…did the mist within recoil?

Erista blinked at him. “ Only those with Soulguider blood, Tolek.”

He sighed, head tipping back toward the ceiling. Instinctually, Ophelia reached for his hand. “Why?” she asked.

Erista appeared conflicted. “It’s been the Angel’s rule since she was first gifted with her magic. The doors rarely open, but if they do, we are not to question it.”

Spirits, this ambiguity drove nails into my brain. And those fucking babbling streams weren’t helping.

I asked, “So only you three can go?”

Erista nodded.

Ophelia chewed her lip. “Will it help us find the emblem?”

Looking into the depths of the dark hall, Erista said, “I hope so.”

Great . More vague answers.

Jezebel was at Erista’s side, a silent commitment that she’d go wherever her partner directed, but Ophelia and Tolek watched each other silently. His jaw ticked, and her eyes searched his. Neither said a word aloud, but they definitely were saying plenty to one another.

I wrapped an arm around Mila’s shoulders. Not a chance on an Angel’s burning wings would I separate from her while in this creepy fucking gallery.

But she and I weren’t the chosen of the Angels, thank the Spirits. We’d survived enough shit and could stay together to see all the tomorrows.

Finally, Tolek groaned, “Fuck these damn Angels.” He kissed Ophelia, whispering something to her, and then stepped back.

Ophelia’s eyes found me, Starfire tight in her grip. “Keep looking for it,” she said, somewhere between a plea and an order. “I don’t know that it will be”—she flicked a glance over her shoulder into the hall—“that it will be in there. In case it’s not, search this place.”

Because I could also detect these emblems. I guessed I wasn’t as uninvolved as I’d hoped.

I nodded. “Of course.”

“Thank you.” And there was a quiet until the stars stop shining beneath that gratitude. With a slight dip of my chin, I sent the sentiment right back, attempting it through our broken Bind.

Ophelia smiled as if she felt a hint of it.

She instructed us all to be careful, and then the three warriors with Soulguider blood stepped beneath the archway, into the field of swirling spirits and mists, or whatever it was exactly.

A part of me hoped they didn’t find out.