He must have been concentrating intensely, because his emotion soaked her as if she were caught in a rainstorm. It reminded her of ryuu magic, but while that was intoxicating, this was something more, like drinking lightning and the night sky, their brightness and darkness filling her at the same time. These were Daemon’s rawest feelings, unfiltered, and even though Sora didn’t know the thoughts that lay behind them, this was still the closest she’d ever been to anyone, even him. She wanted to keep drinking in this feeling of being one with somebody else, where it wasn’t just about him or her but about them, together.
I’ll find my way back to you, she thought.
But that would happen only after she finished this mission. So with Daemon holding on to her through their gemina bond, Sora refocused on one thing alone—getting to the trap door.
Instead of swimming through the thick water and using precious energy, she tucked her legs into her chest, released a little bit of air from her lungs, and let herself sink slowly like a rock. She swallowed to clear her ears as she descended deeper into the lake. Only when she stopped sinking did Sora jackknife herself and start swimming to the door.
She grabbed on to the heavy iron ring on the front and planted her feet against the lake bottom, which was as frozen as the ice caves above. She allowed herself a couple seconds of rest. I made it. I defied the Lake of Nightmares. I’m still alive.
But that was only half the plan—there was still important work to do.
Broomstick had invented a super adhesive that was waterproof, and Sora smeared it onto one of the bombs. She glued it right next to the trap door’s top hinge, then stuck another one on the bottom hinge. There were four bombs left on her belt.
Matches wouldn’t light underwater, but thankfully she didn’t need to rely on traditional fuses. Sora swam a safe distance away and commanded the ryuu particles to ignite the bombs on the door.
There was a pause, then dual hisses as the magical flame traveled down the length of the fuses.
One of them sputtered.
Light it again, Sora ordered. The emerald particles obeyed swiftly.
The first fuse was nearly at its end. Sora braced herself. The bomb exploded, and the shock waves threw her backward along the glacial bottom of the lake. For a second, she lost her hold on her gemina bond, and the vision of her power-hungry smirk leeched into her brain.
But then the second bomb went off, and the vibrations from its explosion shook her back into focus.
The top hinge was blasted apart completely. The bottom hinge was only mangled, though, and the trap door itself remained stubbornly in place. Also, the impact of both explosions had knocked most of the air out of Sora’s lungs.
Nines! Panic burned at the back of her throat again.
She commanded the emerald particles to her aid, using one of the very first spells she’d learned as a ryuu. The magic formed an enormous hand and seized the ring on the door.
Now pull.
The sparkling hand tugged. The ring strained against the door.
Harder!
The intact bottom hinge groaned.
Sora’s lungs screamed at her. She was nearly out of oxygen, and part of her was tempted to flee back to the surface.
But she was so close to success. . . . If Sora could at least get through the trap door to look at what was inside, she could go back to the surface, swallow another lungful of air, and return again.
One more pull!
The hand jerked hard, and the trap door flew out of its frame completely.
There was a dim room with bare dirt floors on the other side. It could be another trap, but she didn’t have time to hesitate.
With her lungs aching, Sora grabbed the door frame and propelled herself into what she hoped was Zomuri’s secret vault.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Broomstick watched Spirit dive into the lake. She swam slowly, as if movement were harder underwater, but she didn’t freeze up or seem bothered by the corpses suspended around her. He cheered her on from shore: “You’ve got this!” Maybe they’d finally caught a lucky break.
Suddenly, Spirit stopped swimming. She floated in the middle of the lake, nowhere near the bottom, and planted her feet as if she were standing on the ground. Broomstick ran to the edge of the water. “Spirit, no! Whatever you’re seeing in your head, it’s not real! You have to fight it off and keep going.”
She didn’t move. At the same time, the cave around Broomstick shuddered. The icicles hanging off the rock walls rattled, like a million chandeliers about to break. The walls of the cavern groaned.
Was it the monster? Or something else?
He unsheathed a sword and took several steps back from the water’s edge. Whatever was coming, he couldn’t afford to get knocked off his feet and into the lake.
The cave shook again. This time, the walls couldn’t hold on to the icicles. But the icy spears didn’t fall straight down either. Instead, they flew across the colossal cavern and began to come together just a hundred feet from where Broomstick stood. The icicles hovered in the air, assembling themselves into something.
First an icy heart.
Then a barreled chest around it, the icicles still loosely linked together like chain mail so Broomstick could see through the holes between them.
Arms. Legs. And last of all, a head with icelike swords as its teeth. The monster roared, letting out a breath as rank as thawing corpses, while its components jangled against one another, sounding much more dangerous now than collapsing chandeliers.
Broomstick recoiled. But then he saw the lake out of the corner of his eye, and he remembered his promise to Spirit that he would stay alive, in case they needed a second chance at the vault.
He brandished his sword and looked straight into the monster’s crystalline eyes. “Hello, Snowy. What brings you to these parts this fine day?”
The icicle creature roared again, then charged.
“So much for pleasantries.” Broomstick sprinted straight for the monster.
As soon as it got close enough, he leaped. Broomstick landed on the creature’s knee and scrambled up to find purchase. The monster swiped at him with icicle claws and tried to shake him off.
Broomstick raised his sword and plunged it into the creature’s thigh.
It didn’t react.
“For Luna’s sake,” Broomstick muttered.
He started hacking at the knee. Icicles broke off, and the monster took in a raspy inhale as his leg sagged for a moment. It didn’t give out, but it was a revelation for Broomstick—each shard of ice seemed to contribute to the creature’s power.
Broomstick hit the butt of his sword against more icicles. A few broke off, and the monster’s leg twitched. But now it was really angry, and it clawed at Broomstick with both hands.
An icicle stabbed his shoulder. He let out a cry and grabbed the wound.
The claws came again. Broomstick, bleeding steadily, still managed to avoid the blow by slipping around to the back of the monster’s knee.
What he needed was an ax to hack off the leg. But all he had was a sword. Broomstick wrapped his own legs tightly around the creature’s, held his left side with his arm, and started to saw at the ice with his sword hand.
The ice monster bellowed. It kicked out its leg and sent Broomstick flying off. He landed with a thud, and he skidded on the slick ground toward the lake.
No!
Broomstick dug his sword into the frozen ground to stop his momentum. He slid right into the blade, just inches from the water. The sword cut into his flesh, and even more blood dribbled out of him, two streams of red trickling into the lake.