The Immortal Calls

chapter three✵kapitel drei

Heinrik's lips parted. Leonor yanked her hand away from his nose, scoffing.

"That's not flirting," snapped Leonor.

"Then what was it?"

"Banter."

Ahmed listed his head, waving her off. "Same thing. Are you ready?"

Heinrik stood first, offering Leonor his hand. She took it, and he hauled her up. She felt painfully short now that they were shoulder to shoulder.

Though he'd stomped recklessly on the stairs, Ahmed was as sinuous as a cat when he moved over the floor of the loft, sidestepping his snoring brother, feet soft when he neared Mun. He held out his hands—one for Leonor, and one for Heinrik—when he came close.

"Don't let go of me," he told them. "Especially you, Leonor."

She clutched at him. She hadn't shadow walked as often as the others, and when Ahmed stepped forward, eyes glowing, taking them with him into the blank void between strings, she remembered why. Looking at the weave always gave her a feeling of unease, like she was looking at something that might swallow her whole. Being in it was worse. There was nothing earthly in this other plane; blackness surrounded them on every side, no ground or sky to speak of. Ahmed guided them through the maze of strings, keeping to the void between them, however narrow it seemed to be. She looked down and regretted it; there was nothing beneath her, nothing at all, besides a dizzying mess of crisscrossing threads and darkness.

This was the bedrock of the universe, the makings of everything that hid in plain sight, and she, one of the lucky few who would ever see it. The threads glistened like silk, though there was no light to shine upon them anywhere. They were beautiful, no matter how much her guts twisted when she looked at them.

"Coming up on Romhalde," Ahmed said, voice echoing in her ears. "Hold your breath."

Leonor filled her lungs with the stale air of the void, slowing her steps to match Ahmed's. As he searched for an exit, she pushed a floating string away from her face. It zapped at her fingers, sticking to her like her hair was wont to stick to wool in winter. She shook it off in the same moment that the weave faded into the edge of a high snow bank overlooking a narrow alleyway into Romhalde.

Ahmed's hand slipped away from hers. He spared them both a smile and nod. "See you two later. I expect a feast." Then, eyes still glowing something fierce, he stepped off the snow bank and let the shadows catch him, melting away until he was gone.

Heinrik sniffed the air. "I'm in the mood for some bratwurst."

Leonor's stomach growled. "You're better off getting a brezel in these parts. Romhalde's famous for them."

He jumped from the snow bank, landing gracefully on the cobblestone below. He held out a hand for her, waiting. She huffed and jumped herself, bending her knees to save herself from the force of the impact.

"I have legs," she explained matter-of-factly.

He looked down, quirking an eyebrow. "Really? I couldn't tell."

She shoved him. He stumbled, nearly landing amongst a rusted rubbish bin that smelled faintly of rot. He let out a quiet gasp, and when he righted himself, he pounced, shoving her into the snow bank they'd just jumped from. Her hands darted out as she fell, taking hold of Heinrik's collar, dragging him down with her.

Their landing knocked the wind out of her, snow puffing up around them and falling back to earth in the same moment.

"You're—heavy!" she cried. "Get off!"