Brimstone By Callie Hart - 27

YOU CAME, YOU came. Came. You came . . .

The words slammed around inside my skull.

Came. Came. You came . . .

Ammontraíeth stopped and fell to its knees as I’d sprinted through its halls, making my way down into the bowels of the palace, to the tomb that housed the Blood Court’s quicksilver. The sharp, cold eyes of scores of high bloods had followed me as I’d run.

The crypt was just as Kingfisher, Carrion, Lorreth, and I had left it. Our footprints still marked the thick layer of dust on the ground. The lintel around the pool was still damaged, the stone shattered around the lip. A long, jagged crack shaped like a lightning bolt in the obsidian forked off toward the door. I’d said goodbye to Fisher here. He’d kissed me and held me, and I’d felt safe.

I didn’t feel safe anymore. I felt like I was about to explode. My nerve endings screamed as I ran to the pool and—and—

Fuck! What was I supposed to do ?

You came. You came. Came . . .

The words boomed around the tomb. Hollow. Singular. They sank into my bones, reverberating, calling to me.

Join us. Come to us. Join us. We will help . . .

I’d dropped the relic back in the forge. The last time I’d gone into the quicksilver, I hadn’t had a relic. The gods had pulled me through. It had been instantaneous: One second, Fisher had been carrying me in his arms. The next, I’d woken up in that field of tall grass with two gods giggling over me. Fisher thought my Alchemist’s blood prevented the quicksilver from affecting me the way it had affected him once, but was it true? If I stepped into this quicksilver now, would it drive me crazy? Would it just kill me?

Come. Come to us. Join us . . .

Or was entering this pool now the only thing that would save me? Was this the key to my magic? Was this something I had to do to bond with the quicksilver? To show it that I trusted it?

No time to decide.

I had to do something. The light from my runes lit the tomb so brightly that the glow hurt my eyes. It was building, straining, probing, mounting—more power than I could comprehend. It wanted out, to be free, and I didn’t want to fucking die.

I had no choice.

Yes. Yes, come to us. The quicksilver’s voice was hypnotic.

The room spun as I closed my eyes and let my power in.

The void that fell over me ate me whole.

No light.

No up.

No down.

This was immortality; looking it in the eye felt like staring into a black hole.

Fear ran ice-cold fingers through my mind, paralyzing me.

Breathe, Saeris. Do not give in to it.

Fear would be my undoing. I would cede no ground to it.

I retreated into myself, searching for that which was already a part of me. This tide of magic scared me. Whenever I’d sensed it before, raging just below the surface of my consciousness, I’d shied away, afraid of its immenseness. I had worried that I wouldn’t be able to find my way back to the surface again if I allowed the power to swallow me—and I was still afraid of that. But the storm wasn’t going to abate this time. It was growing by the second.

I dove into the stream of my power and was immediately swept away.

Oh gods, it was too much. It was—

Pulling.

Pushing.

Tugging.

Screaming.

Spinning.

Swimming.

Sinking . . .

Drowning . . .

Breathe, Saeris. Breathe, or it’s all over.

I gasped for a deep breath, forcing the air into my lungs.

This isn’t something to be afraid of.

This is a part of you.

A part of yourself that you hadn’t gotten to know yet.

You can do this.

When you had no one else to lean on, you relied on yourself. When no one rode to the rescue and saved you and Hayden from dying of thirst, you saved yourself.

Save yourself now, Saeris.

You’ve got this.

I stopped fighting it. Magic zipped along my nerve endings, and there it was, like a tangible, pliable thing at the ends of my fingertips: raw, divine energy. Opening my eyes, I expected to see it there, visible to the naked eye, but my fingers looked normal. My shield flared with blue-white energy as I reached for the quicksilver and summoned it.

It was as easy as breathing.

I decided that the portal was open, and suddenly it was. The difference was astonishing. It felt right . But I couldn’t afford to celebrate just yet. I was only halfway through the process.

Gods, I was going to look pretty stupid if I didn’t make it through this. My mate had suffered horribly because of the quicksilver. It had come damned close to destroying his mind on countless occasions, and I’d been on hand to witness that. But Kingfisher wasn’t an Alchemist.

I stepped into the pool before I could second-guess myself.

The molten metal felt like ice around my ankles. Cold cut through my boots, through my pants, pain racing up my legs. The pool churned violently, sloshing and bubbling like water boiling over in a pot. It happened quickly. Unexpectedly. Every part of me screamed that I should get out. That I should run. That this was the biggest fucking mistake I had ever made. The quicksilver formed rivulets, like the tributaries of a river, and began to rise. The sight of it climbing my body transported me back to the Hall of Mirrors. Captain Harron had just run me through with his sword. I had melted his dagger. It had snaked up his body like this, probing, seeking, looking for a way in.

“Saeris? Saeris! Call it off! You don’t—you don’t understand —”

He’d begged me for his life. He had been terrified of what the quicksilver would do to him, and rightly so; it had driven him mad.

I can do this.

It had reached my waist now. The cold leached through my shirt as it climbed higher. Clenching my hands into fists, I closed my eyes and braced.

I can do this.

Half-breed. Who are you to be blessed by us?

The quicksilver was on my skin now. My arms. My neck. It was inside my head . It was everywhere—an alien, agile presence. It didn’t sound as fractured as it usually did. This was a primeval power, older than the universe itself, and all its attention was focused on me.

I am an Alchemist. I didn’t dare speak out loud. I was too worried that the words would turn into a scream, so I spoke them internally instead.

You are a pretender, the voice accused.

My name is Saeris Fane—

Your name is ruination , the voice snorted. Blight. Curse worker. You do not deserve to live.

I do!

There are others more worthy.

None of them stand before you now! It roiled in my chest: the anger of a lifetime, condensing into one white-hot point. I had been told every single day in Zilvaren that I was worthless, that my life meant nothing, that I didn’t deserve to live. Madra’s disdain for my people ran so deep that even the residents of the Third had started to believe that they didn’t matter.

Well, I wouldn’t believe that. Not. Any. More. “ I stand before you.” I spoke out loud this time, no longer afraid. “I am worthy.”

Only the unworthy seek power.

“I don’t seek power! I didn’t ask for this. I seek peace! For my friends and my people to be safe.”

And you would employ your power to achieve that end? There was something sly in the speaker’s tone. I couldn’t think of it as the quicksilver. It was something more than sentient portal magic . . . and it was trying to trick me.

My mind raced. “I wouldn’t employ it for anything. It . . . isn’t a weapon. It’s just a part of me.”

Foolish child. Power is always a weapon. Wield it, or it wields you.

Pain exploded behind my eyes. The quicksilver was in my mouth, pouring down my throat. It was slipping into my ears. I don’t know what you want from me! I don’t know what you need—

Wield it! the speaker snapped. A dark horizon looms. What will you do to prevent it?

Anything!

You would die?

Yes!

You would kill?

Yes!

You would give up that which is most dear to you?

I opened my mouth . . . and nothing came out. I tried to form the word, but I couldn’t. “No. I can’t,” I said. “I won’t sacrifice him .”

The tomb stilled. The quicksilver fell silent, and a fresh wave of alarm rushed over me. It was over, then. This was a test, and I had failed. I could feel the quicksilver’s claws invading my mind, sinking deep, sharp and cruel.

Good , the speaker purred.

Good. Wait, good ? Had it really just said that? “I don’t . . . understand . . .”

Every Alchemist must have something they are afraid to lose.

The cold coating my bones with ice began to retreat. Slowly, the pain piercing my mind faded, the tomb coming back into focus. I was crying. When I brushed my tears away, my fingers came away coated in silver.

This pathway is clear , the speaker declared. Receive this gift all in fear and trembling. In the end, it will be your end.

I flew backward, out of the pool.

My back hit the wall with a bone-crunching crack . . .

. . . and everything went black.