Chapter 159
Cora’s voice pulls me from the haze, her panicked tone slicing through the ringing in my ears. “Phoebe! Wake up!” Her hands grip my shoulders tightly, shaking me so hard my teeth clatter. My eyes snap open, and her face looms inches from mine, her usual calm obliterated by terror.
The rumbling around us makes my skull vibrate, and it takes a moment for my disoriented brain to register the heat—the blistering, suffocating heat—and the acrid stench of sulfur and ash that burns my nose and throat.
“Get up!” Cora yells, yanking me upright before I can say a word. Pain screams up my splinted leg, and my vision swims, but I force myself to focus. Then I see it.
The lava.
A fiery orange glow illuminates the tunnel behind us, molten rock flowing like a hungry beast, consuming everything in its path. The edges of the walls are beginning to melt, rivulets of magma trickling down like wax from a candle. The roar is deafening, a cacophony of hissing, popping, and the ominous crack of stone succumbing to the heat.
“Oh, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” I gasp, clutching at Cora for support.
She doesn’t give me a chance to process. Her arm locks around my waist, and she half-carries, half-drags me forward. “Move!” she barks, her voice barely audible over the roar.
I stumble alongside her, my crutch slipping on the uneven floor of the tunnel. The ground trembles violently beneath us, throwing off what little balance I have, but Cora doesn’t slow. She pulls me onward, her grip bruising but necessary.
“Leave me, I’m slowing you down! I can’t—” I start, but she cuts me off.
“You can, and you will,” she snaps, her tone brooking no argument. “We don’t have a choice.”
The heat behind us intensifies, the glow growing brighter. The air feels like it’s on fire, searing my lungs with every breath. Sweat pours down my face, stinging my eyes. My leg is screaming in pain, each step sending fresh waves of agony shooting through me.
Another tremor rattles the tunnel, and chunks of rock crash down around us. One boulder smashes inches from my good foot, and I yelp, my heart hammering.
“Keep going!” Cora shouts, her voice strained.
“Where?” I yell back, panic clawing at my chest. “We’ve been in these tunnels for days and haven’t found an exit.”
“If you have a better idea, I’m all ears,” she says, her tone sharp, though I can hear the desperation creeping into her words.
The tunnel narrows, forcing us to move in single file. The lava behind us is relentless, its roar growing louder and more feral. My breaths come in ragged gasps, my body screaming for rest, but Cora’s grip keeps me moving.
The tunnel suddenly widens into a massive chamber, and for a split second, I feel relief. But it vanishes as quickly as it comes.
The chamber isn’t salvation. It’s a death trap.
The ground slopes downward to a wide pit in the center, glowing with molten lava that bubbles and churns like a living thing. The heat radiating from it is staggering, and I feel my skin prickle as if I’m standing in an open oven. The walls are smooth and sheer, offering no escape.
I glance behind us. The glow from the lava is already spilling into the chamber, filling the tunnel we just emerged from.
“Oh my God,” I whisper, my voice barely audible. “We’re trapped.”
Cora releases me, her eyes scanning the chamber with frantic precision. She takes a step toward the far wall, then another, her gaze darting like a trapped animal’s, searching for a way out.
“There’s got to be something,” she mutters, more to herself than to me.
I limp after her, leaning heavily on my crutch. “Maybe we can climb,” I say, trying to keep the tremor out of my voice.
She doesn’t answer. Her fingers press against the smooth rock, testing its surface, but there’s nothing. No footholds, no cracks, no salvation.
“Grandma,” I say again, louder this time. “What’s the plan?”
Her hands drop to her sides, and she turns to face me. Her expression stops me cold. For the first time since this nightmare began, she looks… defeated. Her sharp, commanding presence has crumbled, replaced by a hollow, distant gaze.
“There is no plan,” she says softly, her voice almost lost beneath the roar of the lava.
“What?” I ask, my heart pounding. “No. No, that’s not—there’s always a plan. You always have a plan.”
She doesn’t respond. Her knees buckle, and she sinks to the ground, her hands trembling as they press into the dirt. Her head bows and her shoulders heave with shallow, ragged breaths.
I stare at her, disbelief and fear tangling in my chest. Cora—unshakable, indomitable Cora—is breaking. The woman who has dragged me through hell and back, who has faced down monsters and gods, is giving up.
The glow of the lava grows brighter, the heat more oppressive. The pit at the center of the chamber is almost full, molten rock licking at the edges, threatening to consume the last patch of ground we’re standing on. The air itself feels like it’s boiling, every breath a struggle.
I sink down beside her, my leg throbbing, my chest tight with panic. “Cora,” I say, my voice trembling. “We can’t stop. We can’t—”
She shakes her head, a bitter laugh escaping her lips. “We’ve done everything we can, Phoebe,” she says, her voice hollow. “There’s nowhere left to go.”
Her words hit me like a punch to the gut. I want to scream, to shake her, to make her get up and keep fighting, but the truth is staring us in the face. The walls are closing in, the lava is rising, and there’s no way out.
The chamber trembles, a deep groan echoing through the rock as another section of the ceiling collapses into the pit. The molten rock bubbles and spits, hungry for more.
For the first time, I feel the weight of hopelessness settles over me. It’s heavy and suffocating, pressing down like the heat around us. I’ve faced death before, but this is different. This is final.
And for the first time, I don’t know if we’re going to survive.
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