Chapter Twelve
Macey shivered. This hadn’t been where she expected the Staran to throw them out. She’d thought they’d at least have been able to walk into the catacombs themselves.
“Flint?” she asked shakily.
“Yes?”
“Some light, please?”
He obliged seconds later, several tiny fireballs lingering in the air around them. “You realise you could have done it yourself, right?” he asked.
“Oh.” She’d forgotten. Something about this place was putting her off more than she wanted to admit.
And the flames were making it worse. Their orange glow flickered over the catacombs around them, revealing lines of grinning skulls all staring into Macey’s soul.
“Where are we?” she whispered.
“My guess is one of the tunnels not used by tourists,” Izban observed.
“What do you know about the catacombs?”
