Chapter 52: Isles of Slumber
I turned to Jazmin sharply, my voice slicing through the chaos like a whip.
"Go, now! Slip past the pit and descend the tower before this whole floor starts eating itself."
His eyes flicked to mine. Still smoldering from the heat of the previous game. "Where?"
"To Graywatch," I said, panting, barely keeping upright. "Find the Velvet Cathedral. Ask for Lysaria. Or Salem. Either of them. Belay our current situation and tell them—"
"Tell them I carry your scent," Jazmin said, lips curling.
"Exactly."
He didn’t argue. Didn’t ask questions. That alone proved he was smarter than most of the Tower’s sycophants. One blink, one feline nod, and he vanished down the hall, golden dress trailing behind like a curtain call at a very messy opera.
He slipped into the pit just as the walls screamed again—not like collapsing stone, no, it was deeper than that. It was the groan of architecture breaking its own rules. The tunnel convulsed inward behind him in an avalanche of obsidian and golden dust. One second he was there. The next? Gone.
"Shit," I hissed.
"Fuck," echoed Willow, ever supportive in her vocabulary.
The rubble sealed like a tomb behind him. No time to mourn or swear at the sky. I turned and barked, "Move!"