Rebel Born (Secondborn #3)(92)

“I see them, too,” Cherno says.

“What are they?” Clifton asks.

“Bermin,” Cherno replies.

“Bermin? That’s not possible. They’ve been extinct for centuries,” Clifton says in a salty tone.

“Well, they aren’t anymore,” Cherno mutters.

“How big?” Clifton asks.

“About your size.”

“What are Bermin?” Reykin asks.

“You know what bats are, right?” Clifton asks with a grimace.

“Of course,” Reykin replies.

“This is their much older, much bigger, much thirstier cousin,” Clifton says. “They’re winged, nocturnal carnivores who dine on blood, and you’re their favorite delicacy. How many, Cherno?”

“In this hallway? I count thirty. They smell blood. It’s emboldening them.”

After cursing under his breath, Clifton orders, “Get back on the elevator, Roselle. We need a plan before we can advance.”

“Cherno, what are Bermin afraid of?” I ask.

“They hate the light.”

“Roselle, get back on the elevator,” Clifton insists.

“I can handle this,” I say. I create a glowing sphere of light in my palm and project it. The orange-sized ball glows golden and glides slowly down the hallway. “This way.” I lead the team down the corridor. The Bermin stay on the outskirts of the light, hissing and fighting each other to get closer to us. Involuntarily, gushing spurts of energy inside me surge outward at the ones nearest us. They vaporize, and the others retreat with gut-wrenching shrieks.

“What was that?” Clifton asks. I hear the grin in his tone.

I’m weaker after the rush of energy. “I don’t know. I didn’t mean to do it. It was—”

“A defense mechanism,” Clifton finishes for me.

I shrug. “I don’t know. Could the goddess Roselle do anything like that?”

“No,” Clifton replies. “You’ve surpassed her powers tenfold.”

We come to the end of the hallway. A steel door separates us from whatever’s on the other side. A supercharged field of energy seeps through the minuscule gaps in the frame. Beside the door, a holographic panel projects a glowing dark crow. Its eyes eerily pivot toward me. Telepathically, I ask it what it requires.

Without speaking aloud, it says, I was first, soft and pure, but in water, I couldn’t endure. What am I?

“Sabah,” I say aloud. Crow’s sister’s name.

The steel door opens soundlessly, revealing an arena-sized, onyx room with enormous rings in the center of it. The rings appear to be made of golden light, like halos. They spin into the illusion of a sphere in the negative space.

“What is that?” Cherno asks me.

“It’s an anchor.”





Chapter 18

Introspectrum

The anchor gyrates so fast that the others don’t see its rings. To them, it’s a dimly glowing sun.

“Why do you call it an anchor?” Reykin asks, gazing at the radiance.

I pull my mask off and push back the hood of my wet suit. My long hair tumbles down my back. I smooth it away from my face. “It’s holding the two worlds together. Without it, they’d drift apart.”

“It’s time to weigh anchor, then,” Reykin replies.

I shake my head. “Not yet. We need to find all the anchors and destroy them. Otherwise it’s futile. We also need to flush out Crow, preferably in this world so he can’t hide out and return after restoring himself to power.”

Reykin yanks off his mask. “I’m coming with you,” he growls, knowing he’s in for a fight.

“You don’t have a key.” I tap my temple with my finger.

Reykin ignores me and cases the glowing anchor, circling it. When he returns to my side, he exhales deeply and then walks straight into the anchor. I lose track of him for a second, until he emerges unscathed on the other side. The frustration etched in the lines of Reykin’s face when he glares at me would be funny if this were at all humorous. It isn’t.

“I’m going now,” I say. “Do what we planned. Retrieve the explosives from the Sozo One. If I don’t return by daybreak, detonate this anchor. I’ll find another way out.”

Reykin holds my elbow. His body tenses. “You can’t go alone.”

“We don’t have a choice. If I’m not back—if there’s trouble—”

“I’ll wait for you.” He grasps my cheeks and places an urgent kiss on my lips. I kiss him back. We drift apart, and my lips curl inward to savor the taste of him.

I walk forward into the light, piercing the air and shredding the veil, and I slip inside. My hair lifts toward the tear in the fabric. The seam knits back together, concealing the real world. The resonating hum of the vortex vibrates my body. A rush of power stretches me, yanking with a force that feels like it will pull my face off. My cheeks wrinkle and pool.

Behind me, the onyx room vanishes. I’m rendered deaf, unable to hear even my own breathing. My forward motion pauses, and then I’m standing in a pastoral landscape, familiar in a primal way. Doors open ahead. I pass through them and emerge in a thriving city by the sea, adorned with romantic, impractically ornate structures. Hovercrafts dodge in and out of traffic lanes. People are everywhere.