Chapter 4 Four

The low chime wasn't a sound you heard with your ears. It was a vibration that traveled up from the floor, through the bones of my feet, and settled like a knot of ice in my stomach. The grey light from the windows flickered again, this time showing that terrifying skyline of twisted, alien spires for a full two seconds before dying back to flat, featureless grey.

Kaelen was a statue of coiled tension in the center of the room. "They're here," he said, his voice a low, deadly calm that was more frightening than any shout. "Sooner than I expected. The Syndicate doesn't just want me back, Lena. They want you erased for the insult you've dealt them."

My heart hammered against my ribs, a frantic bird trapped in the cage of my chest. "Erased? What does that mean?"

"It means they will unmake you," he said, his gaze fixed on the blank wall where we had entered. "They will shred your soul from the fabric of reality and scatter the pieces where not even a god could find them. The insult of a human outbidding a Vampire Lord cannot be tolerated."

A cold that had nothing to do with my wet clothes seeped into my core. Unmade. The word was so final, so utterly terrifying.

Before I could form another thought, Kaelen moved. He strode to the armory wall and pulled out two objects: a long, wicked-looking blade in a leather sheath and a simple, silver bracer. He tossed the bracer to me. It was cool and surprisingly heavy.

"Put it on. Don't take it off."

My hands were shaking so badly I could barely fasten the clasp around my left forearm. As it clicked shut, a faint, shimmering field of light, like a heat haze, flickered around my body for a second before fading from view.

"A basic ward," he explained, strapping the blade to his own hip. "It won't stop a direct attack, but it might deflect a stray spell or keep a tracking charm from latching onto you." He then threw me a small, cloth-wrapped bundle. "Food. Now is not the time to be weak from hunger."

I caught it, stunned by the practicality amidst the apocalyptic terror. He was preparing for a siege.

A sharp, sizzling crack echoed through the loft. A black, jagged line, like a tear in reality itself, split the air in the middle of the room. The scent of ozone and rot flooded the space.

"They're breaking through the wards," Kaelen growled. He grabbed my arm, his grip firm but not painful. "The way we came in is compromised. We need another exit."

"Another exit? It's a dead end!" I protested, my eyes fixed on the growing tear. Through it, I could see shifting, menacing shadows.

"Your problem," he said, his voice tight with strain, "is that you only see the world in human terms. You see a wall. I see matter. And matter can be persuaded."

He dragged me to the far side of the loft, to a section of the polished concrete wall that looked exactly like all the others. He placed his palm flat against it. The air around his hand shimmered with intense heat, and the concrete beneath his palm began to glow a dull, angry red.

"Think of a door," he commanded, his voice strained. "Not with your mind, with your will. Picture it. The grain of the wood, the shape of the handle. Feel the space on the other side. The bond will amplify it. Now, Lena!"

I stared at the solid wall, my mind a blank slate of panic. A door? I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to block out the terrifying sounds of the rift widening behind us. I thought of the simple, white-painted door to my apartment. The one I'd left behind, probably forever. I pictured the scuff mark at the bottom from my boots, the cool feel of the metal knob.

A wave of dizziness washed over me, different from before. It felt like a part of me was being pulled out, a thread of my own energy stretching taut. I felt Kaelen's presence in my mind, not as an invasion, but as an anchor, his immense power feeding my feeble human intent.

I heard a gasp, and my eyes flew open.

The concrete wall was… wavering. Like a mirage on a hot road. The outlines of a door began to form, faint and translucent at first, then solidifying. It wasn't the door from my apartment. It was made of dark, rich wood, banded with cold iron, and it stood where there had been only solid wall moments before.

"Good," Kaelen breathed, a note of surprised approval in his voice. "Now open it."

I reached out a trembling hand and turned the cold iron handle. The door swung inward, revealing not another room, but a swirling, chaotic vortex of color and shadow. The sound that came from it was a roaring wind, filled with a thousand whispering voices.

The tear in the center of the loft ripped open with a sound like shattering glass. Three figures clad in black, featureless armor stepped through, their movements unnaturally fluid. In their hands, they held not weapons, but writhing coils of darkness that pulsed with malevolent energy.

"Go!" Kaelen roared, shoving me hard toward the chaotic portal.

I stumbled over the threshold. The world dissolved into a screaming, blinding maelstrom. It was nothing like the first portal. This was violent, unstable. I was tumbling, spinning, my sense of up and down completely gone. I felt a searing heat on my back—a blast of Kaelen's fire—and a cold, snapping sound as one of the tendrils of darkness lashed out, catching the edge of the door just as it slammed shut.

The connection to Kaelen, that new, fragile thread in my mind, suddenly went taut with a jolt of white-hot pain that wasn't mine. Then, it snapped.

I landed hard on cold, wet stone, the breath knocked out of me. The roaring silence of the vortex was replaced by the drip of water and a deep, profound quiet. I was alone.

I pushed myself up, my body aching. I was in some kind of cavern, dimly lit by glowing moss. The strange door was gone. I was wrapped in silence, utterly and completely.

And then I felt it. Not the bond, which was now a dull, empty ache in my chest. Something else. A faint, familiar pull. A resonance.

I looked down at the silver bracer on my arm. It was humming, emitting a soft, pulsing light. And in the deep, dark recesses of the cave, something began to glow in answer. A faint, golden light, warm and inviting.

My blood ran cold. Kaelen had said he could sense his hoard. The bond was new, but this… this felt older. Deeper.

The bracer wasn't just a ward. It was a key. And it had just led me straight to a piece of a dragon's treasure.