Lyre had designed his defensive shields to counteract most attacks—but not something like this. Death-by-giant-snake hadn’t even occurred to him.

The reptile squeezed tighter and tighter around his shield weaves—built to deflect impacts, not prevent compression. He desperately held back the coil around his neck, fighting the reptile’s overwhelming strength. Nearby, Clio was down with another snake wrapped around her.

He needed a free hand to cast a spell, but no matter how hard he pulled, he couldn’t shift the snake off his neck long enough to weave something. Pain built in his chest and his bones creaked under the pressure. He couldn’t breathe.

A flash of black fire. Farther down the corridor, Ash stumbled. The naga daemon—slithery little bastard—attacked with his blades and the draconian countered, knocking a sword away with impressive speed.

But he wasn’t fast enough to evade the striking snake.

The venomous fangs pierced Ash’s arm just above his armguard. His sword whipped down again, lopping the reptile’s head off too late. The naga laughed triumphantly.

Ash spun his blade in his hand, then slashed the point across the inner crook of his own elbow. Blood gushed down his arm.

The naga’s eyes bugged out in disbelief, but his shock didn’t last long. He sprang at Ash, who caught the enemy blade with his own, ignoring his bleeding arm—but whether he’d successfully purged the poison from his bloodstream or not, he wouldn’t last long with that wound.

Lyre let go of the slippery coil around his neck. It snapped tight, crushing his throat as he grabbed his spell chain and pinched a gem between his fingers. This was going to suck.

He activated the spell and a huge golden circle spun out, encompassing Lyre, Clio, Ash, and the naga. Electric power surged through the circle—and everyone in it.

Pitching forward, Lyre landed on his face with his muscles convulsing. The snake writhed, its constricting loops going slack. Still trembling from the shock, he pulled a throwing knife from the sheath on his upper arm and jammed it into the base of the reptile’s skull.

Hoping Clio could handle the last snake, Lyre spun toward Ash and the naga. The daemon was scrambling to his feet, but Ash was still down, blood spattered around him like a macabre painting.

Lyre hurled his knife. Ducking it, the naga grinned and lifted his weapon.

Then a thick blade burst through his chest.

Ash hadn’t wasted time drawing a throwing knife—he’d thrown his whole damn sword. Before Lyre could recover from the surprise, Clio flew past him, already reaching for Ash as he slumped over.

“Shit!” Lyre hissed, racing over to them. He wrapped his hands around the draconian’s arm just above the elbow and squeezed to slow the blood flow. “Hang on, Ash.”

Clio pressed her hands to his chest. “There’s venom in his blood. I think he stopped most of it, but I don’t know how to purge poisons.”

“Don’t worry about the venom,” Ash rasped. “Draconians are resistant. Just stop the bleeding.”

“Right.” Clio moved her hands to his wound, her eyes closing as she focused on her healing magic.

Crouched beside them, Lyre kept a tight grip on Ash’s arm so he wouldn’t lose any more blood. Dead snakes littered the corridor and silence had fallen, except for the irregular booms of Eliya and Ezran’s explosions outside.

Then heavy footsteps vibrated the floor, drawing closer.

At the farthest end of the curving corridor, a mass of multicolored scales and muscles surged into view. Was this the reptile floor or something? Each one was seven feet of solid muscle, with tough scaled hides and crushing lizard jaws. They carried staves and pikes, half of the weapons topped with giant spelled crystals.

Already on his feet, Lyre stepped in front of the other two. Ash was scarcely holding on to consciousness and Clio couldn’t defend herself and heal Ash at the same time. Lyre was on his own.

He pulled three arrows, the fletching pinched between his fingers. Drakes were physical fighters with even less magic than the average incubus. Their weapons were spelled and their hides were magic-resistant, but that was it. Lyre had a chance.

His first arrow struck the lead drake’s chest and only sank about an inch into his flesh. The daemon’s stride didn’t falter—then magic flashed up the arrow shaft. The bolt exploded, blasting the drake’s chest open. It collapsed mid-step, but the others didn’t slow.

Lyre was already firing the second and third arrows. They struck two drakes and detonated.

He pulled three more arrows and shot them in seconds. A blast of needle-like barbs sent two drakes crashing to the floor. A crackling paralysis spell ripped through another. A third one howled when blades of power erupted from his chest.

Lyre pulled three more arrows, but they were close. Time and space were running out. Nock, draw, loose. Nock, draw, loose. As drakes fell, the survivors’ fury increased until they were bellowing in rage as they bore down on him.

Time was up. Lyre tossed his bow behind him, snapped a gem off his spell chain, and dropped it at his feet. Then he leaped into the oncoming horde.

Behind him, the gem he’d dropped flashed into a shimmering barrier that would slow any drakes that tried to reach Clio and Ash—but he needn’t have bothered. The beasts wanted him dead first.

He ducked a swinging staff and clapped his wrists together. The gemstones in his bracelets clacked and their shared spell sparked to life. A ribbon of glowing light stretched between his hands.

Before he had a chance to use it, a huge hand tipped with claws slammed him off his feet. His defensive weaves absorbed most of the blow, but the impact jarred him from head to foot. He rolled and came up, hands spread with the ribbon of magic stretched between them.

He darted into the drakes’ midst. They bumped into each other as he ducked under their arms, a golden ribbon trailing after him. Barely evading a grasping hand and a swinging pike, he dove between a drake’s legs and popped up behind the beast, magic spinning from his hands.

Whirling through the group one more time, he skittered backward, aching from the glancing blows he hadn’t quite dodged. His back hit the wall and the drakes surrounded him. He was trapped.

Raising his hands, he clapped his wrist together a second time.

The second phase of the weaving triggered and power surged down the golden ribbon—now tangled through the group of drakes. The entire line blazed.

In uncanny unison, all six drakes crumpled to the floor.

Breathing hard, Lyre returned to his barrier spell and dissolved it. Clio was bent over Ash’s arm, but the draconian was staring at him.

“What?” Lyre asked.

Ash just shook his head.

Clio lifted her hands from the draconian’s arm. “I’ve healed the wound but there’s still venom in his system.”

“My body will burn it off,” Ash grunted, sitting up.

Lyre helped him to his feet. The draconian wobbled unsteadily, panting for air, then straightened. Showing no hesitation despite the gore, Clio yanked his sword out of the dead naga and passed it to him.

Ash sheathed it and his other blade. “We need to keep moving.”

Lyre took point, trusting Clio to keep an eye on the draconian. They jogged to the scarlet stairs and started up. Clio raced behind him, Ash trailing at the back.

Lyre crossed a landing and continued up, his thoughts racing ahead to the twenty-fourth floor. His foot came down on the next step—and the stone sank beneath his weight. A popping sound ricocheted through the stairwell.

The stairs beneath him collapsed.

He leaped backward as they fell. Clio reached for him—but the steps beneath her gave way too. They plummeted, their hands meeting in midair, his fingers closing tight around her wrists.

They came to a jarring stop as fast as they’d fallen. Clio let out a strangled cry as his weight jerked her arms. She hung upside down, Lyre dangling from her wrists, nothing but pitch darkness below them.

Sprawled on his stomach at the edge of the gap, Ash clutched Clio’s ankle.

“Ash,” Lyre gasped. “Pull us up.”

The draconian pulled, but his recently healed arm shook and Clio’s ankle slipped a few inches in his grip. His talons dug into her flesh and Clio gasped, her face red from the blood rushing to her head.

“Shit.” Lyre squeezed Clio’s wrists. “Should I try to climb up?”

“If you jostle her, I’ll drop you both,” Ash snarled. “Just wait.”

“Wait? For what?”

Ash snarled again. “Just shut up and hold on!”

Lyre clung to Clio, breathing fast with his feet dangling over inky nothingness. What could they possibly be waiting for? Ash to have a sudden surge of strength? Was the draconian even thinking straight or was he delirious from the venom?

Ash’s arms trembled visibly from the strain of holding two people after suffering injuries and being poisoned. Lyre met Clio’s eyes and saw his terror reflected in her dark stare. Was this how they died?

“Lyre,” she whispered. “I know you didn’t want me to say it, but—”

“No,” Ash snarled. “Spare me the final declarations of love. Fuck.”

“We have nothing better to do,” Lyre snapped furiously. “Since we’re just hanging here prior to imminent death, we might as well—”

The words died on his tongue as a huge black shape appeared above Ash—giant wings, scaled body, and glowing golden eyes. The dragon rumbled quietly, then stretched her long neck down and took a mouthful of Clio’s clothing. With massive strength, the dragon lifted Clio from the abyss, drawing Lyre up with her. Once he was in reach, Ash pulled him onto the steps as well.

Lyre slumped on solid ground, shaking from adrenaline. The dragon, filling half the corridor, rumbled again as she backed away. Black flames burst over her body then shrank, and when they dissipated, Zwi was back to her usual cat-sized form.

“Thanks, Zwi,” Clio panted.

The dragonet trilled importantly, then chattered sternly at Ash. He scowled at her. With another chirp, she took off on dark wings and soared back down the stairs.

“Where is she going?” Lyre asked.

Ash heaved himself to his feet. “Getting back into position.”

Lyre staggered up, then offered a hand to Clio. Together, they retreated to the previous landing.

“Damn,” he muttered. “That was my fault. I forgot it switches after the twentieth floor.”

“Each level uses a different staircase now.” Clio turned left. “Jade, azure, then jade again. Three more.”

“Let’s go.”

Lyre let Clio take the lead. He kept at Ash’s side, glad to see the draconian was moving easier. His immunity to poisons was one hell of an impressive trait.

Thankfully, the corridor was empty. Between Clio disabling every ward they came across and the draconian twins’ impressive ruckus outside, the Ivory Tower’s security either didn’t realize they’d been infiltrated or hadn’t caught up yet.

At the jade staircase, they sped to the twenty-second floor, then sprinted along the corridor to the azure staircase. Clio led the charge up that one and onto the landing of the twenty-third level. One more to go.

They rushed through another echoing white corridor, heading toward the jade stairs. One more level and they would have accomplished the impossible.

“Stop,” Ash hissed.

Lyre and Clio slid to a halt. He scanned the corridor for whatever danger Ash sensed, but he couldn’t see anything but white marble walls and a single closed door. Ash stood motionless except for the swiveling of his head, his nostrils flaring and his eyes black.

“I can smell you,” the draconian growled.

A quiet giggle echoed through the hall, then a daemon was suddenly standing in the center of the corridor as though he’d been there all along.

Not just any daemon. A familiar daemon.

Ragged feathers hung around his dark body and trailed on the floor, his mess of black hair hiding his eyes. Two large horns sprouted from the sides of his skull and three smaller ones protruded from his forehead.

The wraith smiled delightedly at Ash, exposing sharp fangs.

“Blackfire,” he sang in a high, raspy voice. “The halls taste of your blood.”

“What are you doing here?” Ash barked.

The wraith fluttered his dark hands, long fingers tapering to wickedly sharp claws. “I offered, did I not? Your fate I divined, but you would not wait.”

“What are you doing here?” Ash repeated, his voice dropping into a dangerous snarl.

The wraith’s maniacal smile widened. “Too late to change your path now. The crossroads lie behind you, passed by unseen, fate’s hand unknown.” He tilted his face up to peer through his shaggy hair and the light caught on pupilless eyes that swirled with shifting streaks of red and silver. “Upon this road, death awaits you on all sides.”

Ash reached over his shoulder and drew his broadsword. “Lyre, take Clio and keep going.”

“But Ash—”

“Go!”

Lyre shot an agonized look at the draconian, then grabbed Clio’s arm and sprinted down the corridor. The wraith’s mad laughter rang out, echoing across the shining marble.

With Clio’s hand clutched in his, Lyre raced up the final flight of stairs and onto the twenty-fourth landing. The Rysalis floor. He hoped Ash had recovered enough to battle the wraith, but now—now it was his next battle he needed to worry about.