For a moment, the chamber held its breath.

  The stillness pressed in hard enough to feel solid. My arms trembled despite the strength humming through them. Power or not, my body was spent. Sweat ran cold down my spine. My lungs burned with each breath.

  Eyes fixed on me from all sides. Their stone faces twisted into something sharp, their fury forgotten now studying. Watching.

  I calmed my breathing as the blade stirred in my grip, a low vibration running through the hilt. Not impatience. Urging. A pull toward motion, toward violence, toward feeding.

  I glanced down at the sword.

  I had expected it to be crawling with marks. Dozens more. Hundreds, maybe. Instead, there were a lot fewer than I thought. But some runes cut deeper than the rest, their lines thicker, their glow darker, alive with a restless energy that the others lacked.

  I filed that away.

  Another question for later. If there was a later.

  I stepped forward.

  Several spriggans shifted back at once, claws scraping stone. They did not rush me. Not anymore. Too many of them had already fallen. Too much of the hoard had turned to rubble.

  The balance had tipped. For now.

  The creatures began to move differently. Not charging. Not fleeing. Their bodies rippled and twitched as they clicked and scraped against the stone, sounds passing between them in quick bursts. Coordination. Deliberate.

  They were communicating.

  They were planning.

  And that was worse than blind rage.

  I might hold the advantage, but numbers still mattered. One mistake and they would bury me under claws and teeth. Alone, they were easy to break. Together, they were something else entirely.

  Movement caught my eye.

  Spriggans were darting toward the scattered remnants of the hoard, snatching up what little metal treasures still lay intact. Knives slid into their hands. Rings were forced over claws and wedged along forearms. Bracelets were dragged up thin limbs and worn like collars.

  Then their clicking changed.

  It was not panic. It was coordination.

  Understanding hit me all at once.

  They were doing what I had done.

  They were arming themselves.

  “Shit,” I breathed.

  I had waited too long.

  I lunged forward just as a new sound tore through the chamber. Not a shriek. Not a cry of pain. It rolled low and deep, vibrating through the stone, like wind howling through a hollow mountain.

  The spriggans screamed with it.

  I slashed down at the nearest one. It dodged back, claws scraping stone.

  Then it collapsed.

  Not cut. Not struck. It simply came apart, its body breaking into brittle fragments that scattered across the floor.

  I froze.

  Another spriggan crumbled where it stood. Then another. Bodies fell apart mid-motion, claws reaching for stone that was no longer there. I spun in place as more poured from the narrow tunnels in the walls, only to break down the moment they crossed into the chamber.

  The treasures they carried did not fall free but held fast. Stone and splintered wood surged up around them, swallowing metal whole, pulling it back into themselves.

  I stepped toward the nearest piece at my feet, heart racing, and drove the blade toward a half-buried bracer.

  Stones shifted.

  The metal rolled away from the tip as if pushed from beneath. I stepped again as treasures rippled, stones grinding together, closing the space I had just occupied.

  I pulled back sharply.

  “What the hell,” I whispered.

  Something beneath the chamber had woken.

  The screeching echoed louder. It sounded like wind tearing through the earth.

  I braced for a rush of air, for another invisible force, but what filled the chamber instead made my breath catch. A faint glow threaded through the space, pale and shifting, like an aurora torn loose from the sky. It moved with intent, snaking low and fast.

  The light struck the pile I had just tried to reach.

  Stone and metal ripped free from the floor as if seized by unseen hands. The glowing current whipped back and forth, latching onto another heap, then another. Each time a spriggan collapsed, the light surged toward it, wrapping tight and dragging the remains into the growing storm.

  Yet not all of them crumbled.

  Some were snatched mid-motion, clicking in protest as the force hauled them off the ground. The light did not hesitate. It did not choose. It took whatever lay closest.

  I stepped back, pulse hammering.

  I could not tell if they were dying.

  Or becoming something else.

  I scanned the chamber, breath short and sharp, searching for anything that might pass for an escape. There were only two options. The tunnel behind me, already half collapsed and ready to finish the job. Or the sheer climb straight up toward the ragged hole and the pale moon beyond it.

  Neither promised survival.

  My hand brushed my side as I dodge the wind-swept debris, fingers catching on the vial in my pocket. The small reminder grounded me for a heartbeat.

  The clicking changed again.

  It deepened.

  Thuds joined it as chunks of stone and splintered wood were pulled into the spinning mass. The light tightened, drawing everything inward. Then the wind screamed and the storm collapsed in on itself.

  The chamber shook.

  Something had formed in front of me.

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  It stood taller than what I could imagine, four times my height at least, its bulk crushing stone beneath it. A spriggan, if that word still applied. Its body was warped and immense, built of wood and rock and stolen metal fused together. Smaller spriggans were trapped within its limbs, their claws flailing uselessly from the gaps as they tried to reach me.

  Runes gleamed beneath its rough hide, half-buried and twisted into its form.

  It turned toward me, slow and heavy, and the ground trembled beneath the motion.

  I took another step back.

  “Well,” I muttered, throat dry, “that’s my cue to leave.”

  So, I ran.

  The crumbling tunnel ahead narrowed into my only chance and I threw myself toward it, lungs burning, heart hammering hard enough to shake my vision. My legs moved faster than they ever had, the ground blurring beneath my feet.

  Still not fast enough.

  Stone exploded in front of me.

  A massive claw punched through the tunnel wall, tearing it apart in a spray of shattered rock. I veered aside as fragments slammed into my face and shoulders. The sting barely registered. The landing did.

  I hit the ground hard and skidded, momentum carrying me farther than I meant to go. The speed betrayed me. I slammed into the side wall with bone-jarring force, the impact driving the air from my lungs. Dust billowed up, choking and thick.

  As the dust settled the beast loomed above me.

  Its head tilted, slow and deliberate. The look in its eyes had changed. I was no longer a foe worthy of taking seriously. Just a pest, cornered and irritating.

  The sword hummed in my grip.

  My thoughts scrambled, slipping over each other. “Shit. What do I do.”

  I pushed myself up and ran a hand over my body, checking for breaks. Everything answered back with pain, but nothing felt wrong. My fingers brushed something solid at my side.

  The vial.

  Doyle’s voice echoed in my head. Save it. Only when you are empty.

  I didn’t hesitate.

  Before the massive spriggan could close the distance, I tore the vial free, twisted the cap loose, and swallowed it in one harsh pull. The liquid hit my tongue like cold fire, sour and biting, the taste of spoiled berries soaked too long in rain. I gagged and forced myself to keep drinking.

  The effect was instant.

  Cool energy spread through my chest and limbs, washing over the ache and fatigue. My breath came back sharp and clean. My thoughts snapped into place, quick and clear, as if a fog had been torn away.

  I barely had time to register it before a shadow fell over me.

  Another claw came down.

  This time I moved with purpose.

  I twisted aside, ready for the speed now, feet finding the ground as I landed. The impact still rattled my bones, still hurt, but the air stayed in my chest.

  I rolled to my feet, blade up, mind racing.

  I wasn’t done.

  Yet, the spriggan moved almost as fast as I did.

  Not quick in the skittering way the others had been, but heavy and relentless, each step cracking stone beneath its weight. Every blow carried far more force than before. I kept moving, circling, refusing to let it settle. My lungs burned as a thought flickered through my mind.

  Its feet.

  I darted low and slashed.

  The blade struck stone and rebounded with a jolt that rattled my arms. I rolled clear as a massive claw slammed down where I had been, tearing a deep gouge through the floor. The impact sent shards skidding across the chamber.

  That stone wasn’t normal.

  Maybe, whatever bound this thing together had hardened it far beyond the bedrock around us.

  I spat grit from my mouth and sucked in a breath that felt thinner than the last. Dust clung to my tongue. Every dodge cost more than it should have. One mistake would end this.

  Damn it.

  I lunged again, this time angling for the wood threaded through its limbs.

  The blade bit deep.

  Wood split cleanly under the edge and the spriggan roared. Hope flared and I struck again, hacking into the same joint.

  The limb sealed itself before my eyes.

  Fibres twisted and reknit, wood flowing back into place as if it had never been cut.

  “Shit,” I breathed. Then again, louder. “Shit!”

  The counter came too fast.

  A claw caught my side and the pain exploded white across my vision. I held onto the sword by instinct as I was thrown across the chamber. I hit the ground hard and skidded, skin tearing along stone. My knees burned. My back screamed. Blood filled my mouth and I tasted iron as I gasped.

  Something slipped loose at my throat.

  I heard it hit the floor with a soft clink.

  The world shifted.

  The magic that had masked me unravelled all at once. The illusion fell away and I saw myself as I was. Pale skin smeared red. Scars, cuts and bruises blooming everywhere. Blood running freely now that nothing hid it.

  As the massive spriggan watched my transformation it hesitated.

  “Strike it,” the blade said.

  The voice was low and certain.

  My gaze snapped to the floor. The medallion Jerald had given me lay there, dull and unassuming against the stone.

  “Strike the medallion.”

  I did not question it.

  I lunged and brought the blade down. The metal disk rang once as the rune etched into it flared bright. The light tore free in a burst of sparks and vanished into the sword.

  The blade drank it in.

  “Good,” the voice murmured.

  The spriggan didn’t wait to see what this new power might do.

  It launched itself into the air, shadow blotting out the moonlight as a crushing blow came down toward me. I threw myself forward, every muscle screaming in protest. Skin burned. Joints protested. My body begged me to stop.

  I didn’t listen.

  I slid beneath the falling mass, missing it by inches as it slammed into the stone behind me. The impact shook the chamber. I skidded to a halt and felt the blade steady in my hands, the new rune settling into place along the opposite side. The side that answered.

  I dropped low as the spriggan hauled itself free of the crater it had torn into the wall. Stone ripped loose around it, chunks crashing down from above.

  The sword hummed, almost pleased.

  “Think stone.”

  The word landed heavy in my mind. I did not understand it, but the image came anyway. Weight. Stillness. Endurance.

  Stone.

  The spriggan turned to face me.

  I stayed crouched, ready to move, heart pounding hard enough to drown out thought. Then the beast paused.

  Its head tilted. It looked past me. Around me.

  Confusion rippled through its massive frame.

  I was directly in front of it.

  My eyes glanced down.

  My skin had changed. The blood was gone. The cuts and bruises muted beneath a dark, dull surface. Not flesh. Not quite. My arm looked like stone, rough and lifeless, swallowing what little light reached it.

  I held my breath.

  The spriggan turned again, scanning the chamber, claws flexing as it searched for something that should have been there.

  I bit back a short, incredulous laugh as it looked straight through me and kept turning.

  I stepped forward still crouching low.

  The spriggan turned back toward me and I froze, every muscle locked. It stared straight through the space I occupied, then snarled and looked away again.

  It still could not see me.

  The thought of luck flickered through my mind and died just as quickly. This was not chance. I glanced down at the sword in my hand. Its surface had dulled, the black metal muted into the same lifeless stone as my skin.

  So that was it.

  I swallowed. This felt weird. Useful, but weird.

  The spriggan turned again, frustration rippling through its massive frame. It slammed a clawed foot into the ground, and the impact sent a shock through the chamber. I rocked with it, fighting to keep my balance as stone dust shook loose around me.

  I needed to move.

  The wood healed. The stone did not break. Together, wrapped around stolen magic, the thing was both mending and unyielding. It was not like fighting the spriggans before. This was something new.

  The beast dropped to one knee and began raking its claws across the floor, gouging trenches as it searched. Time slipped away with every scrape.

  I focused.

  The hoarded items were still there. Buried inside it. Feeding it.

  A claw tore through the stone beside me and I tensed, ready to bolt, but as it pulled free, I caught a flash of metal beneath the rough surface. Just a glimpse. Enough.

  I sprang.

  I hit the spriggan’s side and drove the blade toward the glint. The first strike cut nothing. But, I didn’t stop. The second landed.

  The goblet crumpled instantly, metal folding in on itself as the rune flared and tore free. The blade drank it in. The spriggan roared and shook its body hard enough to throw me clear.

  I landed and rolled, coming up in a crouch.

  The beast spun back toward me, rage shaking loose more stone from its bulk, but all it saw was rubble where I had stood.

  I stayed still.

  Careful not to smile.

  Not yet.

  When it turned again, I moved.

  This time I spotted two glints buried close together. I lunged for them, repeating the motion without hesitation. The blade struck once, then again, and each impact sent a faint surge through my limbs. The spriggan rolled, trying to crush me beneath its weight, stone grinding against stone as it came down.

  I slipped free and kept going.

  Strike. Shift. Listen. Look.

  Each attack found another sliver of metal hidden beneath bark and rock. Goblets. Rings. Fittings half fused into its body. Every one that broke apart left a shallow hollow behind, a weak point where the surface no longer looked whole. With each absorbed rune, my breath came easier. My movements sharpened. Not enough to feel invincible, but enough to keep pace.

  Then the blade cut deeper.

  I sliced through a thick vein of wood and watched closely. Splinters flew. The wound stayed open.

  It didn’t heal.

  Relief surged through me, hot and fierce.

  Finally.

  The spriggan felt it too.

  It slammed a foot into the ground, the impact shuddering through the chamber. Instead of turning on me again, it reared back and drove its claws into the walls. Stone cracked and tore free as it ripped at the earth, no longer hunting me but the space itself.

  The earth groaned.

  I looked up just in time to see a slab of rock the size of a carriage break loose. I threw myself aside as it smashed down where I had been. Another chunk followed, smaller but faster, clipping my shoulder hard enough to make me cry out.

  Dust filled the air.

  The spriggan straightened, its mouth pulling back into something that might have been a grin. It wrenched a massive stone free from the wall, hefted it with ease, and hurled it straight at me.