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Pressure builds in the chamber, and my ears pop again. The beast gathers itself, light warping around its crystal body, casting triple shadows that move on their own.

Even with adrenaline screaming through me, my knife hand remains steady.

“Ready?” I breathe.

Kelaros’s focus never leaves the creature. “As I’ll ever be.”

The beast’s muscles bunch, crystal facets catching the light, and with a sound like the world tearing, the beast leaps.

It hits the air between us, faster than anything made of crystal has a right to move. I don’t have time to think as my body takes over, muscle memory from a hundred fights snapping into place.

I throw myself into a roll, sliding beneath its snapping jaws. The floor scrapes my shoulder through the thin silk dress as I come up behind the thing, knife already slashing for the joint where one leg meets its crystalline body.

My blade connects, steel ringing against ice, vibrations rattling up my arm. The monster howls from all three mouths, the walls shuddering at the discordant chorus.

I drive forward with a series of quick, efficient strikes. Joints, throats, the soft underside where the crystal thins.

The beast spins with impossible speed, its body distorting the space around it. One jaw snaps inches from my nose, crystal teeth reflecting my image back at me.

I duck and stab upward, resistance catching my blade as it bites into whatever passes for flesh on this thing.

Dark ichor sprays across my arm, burning cold where it touches skin, and the beast recoils, giving me half a second to breathe.

Kelaros moves in from the far side, his borrowed knife a silver flicker. He catches one of the creature’s legs with a sweeping strike, and the limb shatters at the joint, dissolving into shadow and crystal dust.

“Behind you!” I yell, as a second jaw lunges for his blind spot.

He pivots, the stone slab coming up in a defensive arc that catches the beast across what might be its muzzle. The creature recoils, jaws gnashing as it recalibrates.

We fall into rhythm, circling the beast from opposite sides, forcing it to split its attention. When it turns to me, Kelaros strikes. When it whirls toward him, I dart in with my blade.

But something’s wrong. It nags at me as we fight.

Kelaros isn’t using magic. Not even a hint.

Every magic user I’ve ever met leans on their innate abilities in a fight. I’m actively having to restrain myself from blowing off crystal limbs every time I land a blow.

But Kelaros uses nothing but skill. The knife in his hand might as well belong to a human soldier, for all the fae power he channels through it.

The beast rears up, its remaining four legs lifting off the ground as its body stretches, warping space until it towers above us. The wounds we’ve carved into it leak that strange dark ichor, but it doesn’t slow down.

“It’s powering up,” Kelaros calls. “Brace yourself!”

The beast slams down, cracking the floor. The shock wave sends me stumbling, heel catching on uneven stone, and for a crucial second, I lose my balance.

It seizes the opening, one jaw diving for my throat while another snaps at my knife hand. I twist away, but the third jaw darts in from a wild angle, teeth closing on empty air where my arm was a heartbeat before.

“Over here, you ugly beast!” Kelaros shouts, drawing its focus.

His knife flashes, opening a gash along one of the creature’s flanks, and ichor sprays in an arc, hissing where it hits stone.

The beast whirls toward him, forgetting me in its rage. It locks onto Kelaros, who backs away with careful steps, knife at the ready.

I shove to my feet, taking advantage of the distraction to circle behind it. Magic hums through me with the promise of destruction, but Theron’s warning about exposing my powers to the fae holds me back, even here.

The beast charges Kelaros, its movements a blur. He sidesteps the first jaw, blocks the second with his blade, but the third comes in fast, aiming for his exposed flank.

If he dies, my chances of finding Elionn go down.