Bone Crier's Moon (Bone Grace #1)(102)

“Goodbye, Bone Crier.”

I’m going to die.

A deafening boom splits the air. The force drives me to my knees.

Boom! Boom!

The middle of the ceiling shatters apart. A storm of dirt and splintered wood rains down on me. I cover my head with my hands. Chunks of debris scrape my arms and back.

The bridge shudders beneath me. Fissures crack along the limestone. I frantically crawl forward, trying to reach the safety of the ledge.

The Chained hasn’t fallen off the bridge. He shields his eyes from the settling dust and rubble and rises to his feet. A deep fissure snakes toward him, but suddenly freezes as the bridge stops quaking. Everything silences except my ringing ears. The Chained charges at me again. I scramble backward. My mind is still rattled with shock. I don’t know what to do.

The last of the rubble clears. In that instant, a cool rush of energy sweeps into me. It radiates from the crown of my head to the tips of my fingers and the soles of my feet. My lungs expand. My heartbeat steadies. My blood surges with strength and Light. The sky has opened. The power of the moon and the stars reaches my bones and fires life into my graces.

I jump to my feet and bolt for the Chained man.

My fist connects with his jaw as we collide. His head jerks sideways. His hands grope out to strangle me, but I shove my knee into his gut and force him back again. He’s the tiger shark in the lagoon. He’s the bridge in view of Beau Palais. I welcome the challenge.

For every hit he gives me, I give him three. I leap over him and strike him from behind. When I receive a blow, I stumble back farther than I need to. It’s a ploy. I’m drawing him closer and closer to the Gate of the Underworld.

He’s so furious he doesn’t notice. I play on that rage. I laugh when I dodge him. I prod instead of punch him. He’s seething when I’m a yard away from the Gate. Energy pulses across my back, deeper than my sixth sense. The powerful lure of Tyrus’s realm. I clench my jaw and refocus on the Chained.

“Ailesse!” A distant shout comes from above. My heart seizes. Bastien. I can’t spare a moment to look at him. The Chained man is lunging at me.

I grab one of his arms. With all my strength, I swing him backward over my head and let go. The momentum casts him through the Gate. Black dust sucks him inside.

A dizzying breath of relief purges from my chest. I break into an exultant smile. The monster is gone.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” someone whispers. I startle and whirl behind me. An Unchained young woman is on the bridge. She wears a brocade dress and a jeweled diadem. She drifts closer, tears flowing down her face. Her eyes are fixated on the near-invisible shimmer of Elara’s Gate. “But I don’t want to go,” she tells me. “Please, don’t make me go.”

I touch her chazoure-glowing arm. “You’ll be with loved ones who have passed on before you. They’ll sing to you and ease your worries. They’ll build you a castle made of silver and Light.”

The young woman painstakingly pulls her focus from the Gate to me. “Will my mother be there?”

“Was your mother good?”

“She sacrificed everything for me.”

“Then she will be waiting to embrace you.”

The young woman gives me a trembling smile, but doesn’t move forward.

“Listen closer to that beautiful song,” I say, directing her to Elara’s descant, the only siren song that an Unchained can hear from the Beyond. “It’s meant to give you peace. Trust that feeling.”

More tears streak down her face as she nods and inhales a deep breath. She wanders past me toward the shimmering Gate without any more reassurance.

“Ailesse, can you hear me?” Bastien yells, but the sound fades in my ears. It’s eclipsed by the rising swell of the other siren song—Tyrus’s song. Only the Leurress can hear both parts of the music.

Tyrus’s dark and distinctive melody pulses from the Gate of dust and swallows the descant from Elara’s Gate. The music almost has a masculine voice. I feel it murmur, Cross over to me, Ailesse. See my wonders. Nothing in your world compares to mine.

The Unchained woman’s dress trails behind her as she steps across the threshold of Elara’s Gate. Her chazoure body transforms into silver, and then she’s nothing more than a translucent sheen twirling up the staircase to Paradise. It’s breathtaking. But my eyes drift back to the churning black dust. I can’t see anything past it, not even the stone wall.

I’ve been told a scathing river courses through Tyrus’s realm. It boils the flesh off of sinners and runs red with their blood. The river parches dry when it reaches the Perpetual Sands, where those who murdered in life without the sanction of the gods may never quench their thirst. Past the desert, oath breakers and cowards are dragged by their chains to the Furnace of Justice, where they burn forever in an eternal fire. The ashes and smoke are said to form the great cape Tyrus wears around his shoulders.

The dark melody grows louder and quickens to the rhythm of my pounding heartbeat. My realm is just as beautiful as Elara’s, the masculine voice whispers. You could withstand my river. I would build you a barge of gold. I would shower you with water in my desert. The flames in my furnace would not burn your skin. They would bathe you in divine heat.

My stomach quivers. Would Tyrus really keep me safe? He protected me when the ceiling shattered. I wasn’t crushed. I didn’t fall off the bridge either. My feet glide forward and bring me closer to the glittering dust. But what if he’s lying? I stretch out my hand. An unshakable desire urges me to find out.