Chapter 22 · No Door West

Warren's mouth kept moving. That voice—Cole's dead mentor, the one who'd taught him to shape fire without burning his own skin—came out wrong. Too flat. Like someone reading lines off a wall.

"The seal cracked when you bled on the steps, boy. You fed it. Now it wants the rest."

The crossbow woman hadn't lowered her weapon. Her finger sat on the trigger, knuckles white. She was staring at Warren's black eyes and she looked about two seconds from bolting.

Ivy's hand locked around Cole's wrist. Her nails dug in. "We run. Now."

Cole didn't move. His bleeding palm throbbed. The cut wasn't deep but it wouldn't stop. He could feel the blood running down his fingers, hitting the ground. Every drop felt like it was feeding something.

"Can't run." His voice came out hoarse. "It's already open. If we leave—"

"Then it gets out." Ivy finished. She wasn't looking at Warren anymore. She was staring at the ground between them and the temple. At something Cole couldn't see.

Footprints. She was seeing the dead paths again.

Warren—or the thing wearing Warren—tilted his head. The movement was too smooth. Wrong angle. "The boy understands.