“Is that a….” Andraste’s voice trails off.
“Dragon,” I whisper in horror, because the last of the great dragons died out centuries ago.
“Find that Hallow!” Eris screams, shoving me toward the stairs.
We sprint down the hallway as the creature shoulders its way through the floors behind us.
Down and down and down we go, boots hammering on the stone.
Creepy catacombs loom ahead of us.
Of course.
“This way!” I lunge through cobwebs, sweeping them aside with my sword.
A rat skitters past my boots—please let it be a rat—and then an enormous belch of blue flame rockets through the catacombs behind us.
Its heat blooms over my skin as I throw myself behind a stone statue of some headless armored prince. Knees stinging, I throw my arms over my face and belatedly shield. A bubble of air surrounds me, blue flame washing over the edges.
And then the flames die down.
I slowly lower my arms, gasping for breath. Little spot fires bloom all along the tunnel. An ancient pennant drips flame, and a channel of oil on the far side of the tunnel blazes with light.
The air tastes hot and ashy.
“Eris?” I yell.
Nothing.
“Andraste?”
My sister appears on quiet feet, jerking me upright even as she presses a finger to her lips. I’m so relieved to see someone alive—even her. I grab my sword from the ground, hissing as my hand closes around hot metal, though I dare not drop it.
“I don’t know where Eris went,” Andraste says, linking with me mentally. “We have to get out of here.”
“Not without her.”
The dragon is enormous, its skeletal tail lashing behind it as it lumbers around the corner of the catacombs. Once upon a time, it must have been as big as three houses, but all that remains are bones, bleached by the grave.
“I have an idea.” I point to the roof.
She understands instantly.
“Distract it!” She slips into the shadows.
“Hey, you!” I yell, stepping out of my hiding place and waving my hands.
The wight’s head turns toward me.
“That’s it, you big, ugly bastard. Focus on me!”
A gush of hot flame spews toward me and I scream, scrambling for cover and warding desperately.
Light spills through a crevice in the ceiling ahead of me. Another pair of columns have crumbled, leaving the straining roof supports collapsed against each other.
There’s more than one way to kill a dragon wight.
I skid to a halt in the middle of the hallway and turn.
The enormous creature seems to sense me, its head swiveling toward me and its nostrils flaring with blue fire as if it prepares to attack again.
“Run, Vi!” Andraste calls from where she’s scampering across the roof supports.
An enormous ball of blue flame shoots toward me. I’ll never make it in time—
A scream dies in my throat as I slam my crossed wrists up in front of me, willing a shield of pure air to form around me. The heat dies. Sound fades. There’s nothing but silence, and as I blink in shock, I see a gush of blue flames ripple over me.
And then the flames die down and the dragon lumbers toward me.
Blessed Maia. I lower my arms, smelling the stink of scorched leather from where my boot soles didn’t quite fare as well. I mustn’t have shielded completely.
But my sister strikes her hand against the supporting columns that shield the roof, and cracks run through the stone as she unleashes her own magic.
The dragon freezes, looking up.
And the entire ceiling collapses upon it.
Eris appears out of the rubble, sprinting up its spine and grasping her massive sword in both hands. She leaps over falling stones, warding a vicious rock away from her as she lands on the dragon’s skull.
“Die!” She drives her sword through its skull.
The wight screams, and the blue lights in its eyes flare hot for a second before its body starts collapsing.
“This way!” I gesture for her to follow me, even as the soles of my boots still steam.
Vines crawl through the nearest doorway, thick with bristling thorns. There are too many of them to cut through.
Grimm streaks beneath them, leaving me to follow. “It’s in here!”
I slice through the closest briars, finding myself in a circular chamber. Eris staggers into me, but she’s spitting curses because her sword lodged in the dragon’s skull. I toss her mine.
Thirteen enormous stones line the walls. The dusty floor is cut with bronze glyphs that wink in the faelight I summon.
The Hallow.
“Vi?” Andraste pants at my side, blood dripping from a cut on her temples. “What are you doing?” She stills as she sees the state of the glyphs. Some of them have been defaced, and there’s a skeleton resting with its back against the nearest wall.
At least one of the adventurers who came exploring has been accounted for.
“I can use the Hallow,” I tell her.
She backs away, shaking her head. “No. This is forbidden. If the glyphs are shattered—"
“She can use it,” Eris says with a snort. “Are you coming, bitchspawn?”
Andraste stares at me for a long moment. “No.”
“You’re not safe here!” I argue.
There’s a horrible look in her eyes. “You called it the Crown of Shadows. But whatever that thing in your bag is, it’s not the real crown.”
The breath slams from my lungs. “How would you know that?”
Her gaze meets mine. “Because the Crown of Shadows sits on Mother’s head.”
Everything goes silent, leaving only a ringing in my ears. “No.” The Asturian royal crown is an elegant gold piece I’ve seen a thousand times. I’ve even touched it once, though Mother slammed the door of her dressing chambers open and demanded to know what I thought I was doing.
It didn’t feel like it had any sort of power.
“It is,” Andraste insists. “She told me that if anything ever happened to us—if your husband ever attacked the castle—then I needed to get the crown out safely. I needed to bring it to her, no matter what I had
