The Crescent Hour ✓

Chapter 23. Confrontations

Clara pursed her lips and shut her eyes. Millions of sand particles squeezed through her hair, slipping into her clothes and pricking her skin. She stopped resisting as the tentacles dug into her ankles, eliciting pain.

When they released her, she fell flat on a small dune. She opened her eyes. Dirt clung to her eyelashes. A sneeze exploded out of her mouth. Clara scrubbed her face, coughing as a pall of dust enveloped her. She shook her clothes, feeling itchy.

Stay calm, Clara. Survive and you’ll have a nice, warm bath.

She was inside another tunnel. Crystal shards twinkled from the ceiling. The walls were lined with thrumming flesh, tentacles webbing out in a grisly decoration. They moved, closing in on her. There was a doorway a few feet ahead. Dusting her hands, Clara ran to it. The walls moved, wet slime brushing over her shoulders. She swallowed, pushing the wave of bile down her throat.

The opening led her to a dead end. Clara stared up. High above her was a ledge. She couldn’t reach it. The tunnel was narrowing faster than she had anticipated. Forced to press her back on the living wall, she felt trails of panic encompass her. She wanted to get out of the tunnel, to be safe at home—not at Amarant but with her father, Josephine and Timothy.

What do I do? What do I do? What do I do?

She pressed her palms on the wall, trying to push it back but the effort was futile. She felt suffocated, the stench of blood making her retch. Her heart pounded, her ribcage aching. Clara tried to jump up, nails digging into the flesh. A sliver of rationality helped her see reason. She was stuck but she wasn’t helpless.

Breathing heavy, Clara called out to her power. A crystal platform materialized below her feet. It grew up by a few inches before it was crushed by the pressure from the walls.

Come on. You can do this!

She conjured another platform, making it grow into a column. It elevated her upwards, the ledge drawing near to her grasp. She felt the overwhelming pressure from the walls but she compelled her own magic to combat it, strengthening the bonds between the crystals. The column met with the ledge. Clara stepped off of the column, landing on hard ground. Releasing her magic, she heard the distinctive sound of walls meeting and crystal shattering.

A wall cracked, collapsing into bits of small stones. It revealed an opening. Exiting the tunnel, she examined the next room. Shimmery dust swirled in the air. Debris littered the floor, broken pieces of rocks standing at odd positions. One was balanced between two chunks of stones, another tipped towards a wall and third one looked like it could topple at any moment. Splotches of red glowed in the dark. She neared them.

The dead eyes of corpses met her own. They were creatures with rounded bellies and long tails. Forked tongues splayed out of their lipless mouths and spindly arms lay mangled. What could have killed these creatures? She spotted holes on their bodies. Gunshot wounds.

“Rai! Are you there? Rai?”

Her voice echoed in the vast cavern. A rock fell. She caught the glow of something floating from her peripheral view. When she turned, Mecha collided with her forehead. It squeaked, its cries getting louder each time.

“What are you doing here, Mecha? Where is Tamer? What about Rai?” she asked.

Mecha hovered over the wreckage and gave a low squeal. Clara glanced at the layer of broken rock below it. A smaller block held the rock in place so that the slab slanted. A black shoe peeked out of the crook. That was Tamer’s boot!

She rushed to the wreckage. “Tamer! Are you okay?”

He didn’t respond. She didn’t want to push out the rock, afraid that it would lose balance and squash him. Grabbing his ankles, she slowly pulled him out of the safe crook, wincing when she noticed the scrapes and bruises on his arms and face. Mecha floated over his chest.