Falling.
The world tore itself apart around us—stone splintering, torches shattering into sparks, silver mist clawing at our skin like icy fire. I could feel the anger, defiance, and sheer refusal to let go in Thorn's chest even though his arms were locked around me and his growl was drowned out by the howl of the abyss.
Silver and shadows intertwined to form spirals that whirled us downward. My veins burned, my ears rang, and my stomach churned. I briefly doubted whether we were still made of flesh or if something was shattering.
Then—impact.
My bones shook when we struck solid ground. When my vision cleared, I saw that the ground wasn't made of stone. It was made of glass. Infinite, black, and reflecting us like a mirror fractured in a thousand directions.
With a groan, Thorn pul
