Valkyrie's Sacrifice (Academy of Immortals 3)

The hair on the back of my neck stands on end as we pass through the Abyss, a reaction from the last time I was here—when I killed Headmaster Gardener for trying to open the temple. It’s still bitter cold and the wind howls in my ears, but something is different—an eerie calm that sets me on edge. I keep an eye out for the six-eyed monsters flying in the air.

“They’re gone,” Luke says, sensing my anxiety. “Victorine used the little furballs she tested in the challenges to fight against the bloody monsters. It was basically a slaughter that allowed everyone to get through.” He steps over a body, school necktie still hanging under an indistinguishable face. “Well, almost everyone.”

A bone-vibrating rumble comes from behind us and we all stop and look. From this angle, all we can see is the walls surrounding the Academy. They shudder and shake, sending pieces of stone into the watery trenches of the Abyss.

“How did it happen?” I ask. “How did Victorine get the key?”

He shakes his head. “I don’t know. It happened quickly. The school was still reeling from the attack on Elizabeth at the challenge and then you vanished. Word traveled through the school that the gates were open. I was in the training room with our allies when it happened. Elizabeth was still recovering from the challenge. Rupert and Agis didn’t hesitate, jumping straight into the fight. When we saw what was happening, Armin told me to go get Elizabeth and to wait for you. Marshal was injured, and Miya carried him out of the Abyss. The next thing I knew, they were all gone, and unfortunately no one told me where either of you had been taken.” He gives me a quick glance. “I was worried we’d never find you.”

Luke has grown in the time I’ve known him. He’d been a spoiled, ridiculously handsome prick when we’d met, used to getting whatever he wanted, when he wanted it. But the betrayal he felt from his father seemed to rock him to the core. He seems determined to prove to his father, the Devil, that he’s more than a demon—that the human side of him carries weight.

“Thank you for waiting for us. I’d never traveled in and out of that portal alone. I wasn’t sure how to get back either. When I saw your hand pop through…I just grabbed it.”

“I know you’re worried about the other Immortals, but I promise you, we’ll find them.”

I raise an eyebrow. “You sure that’s a promise you can keep? We don’t even know what we’re getting into.”

His lips quirk into a smug grin. “I may not be a legendary warrior, but I’ll prove myself worthy of being your ally, Valkyrie.”

I forgot egotistical in my prior description, but his confidence is comforting. You can’t save the world if you have doubts.

We make it to the steps of the temple. The building is grand, made of marble. Luke and I climb the steps, followed by Elizabeth. Marshal brings up the rear, sword gripped in his hand as he sloshes out of the ankle-deep water. When we reach the top of the staircase, the rumbling behind us grows louder. I turn, as do the others, just in time to see the entire foundation of the Academy finally give.

“Oh shit,” I mutter, tugging Elizabeth by the arm. We scramble, racing toward the temple doors. The rumbling turns to a roar, as though a bomb has detonated. The rock holding up the building splits into a million pieces, churning into a billow of dust. Marshal and Luke slam the temple door close once we enter, blocking out the debris and latching the door.

“I guess there’s no going back,” Elizabeth says, her voice small in the cavernous room.

“No, I don’t think that place was ever truly meant to be a home,” I reply, stepping into the arched narthex. Runes are carved over the doorways, and flickering candles light the small room. The heady scent of incense fills the humid air. The chill of the Abyss was left outside, but I now feel uneasy. I clutch the blade in my hand, keeping alert.

We enter the sanctuary. The ceiling is vaulted with marble pillars. Row after row of pews line the aisle. Candles flicker in small alcoves, casting shadowy light. I’d never known who this temple belonged to, or exactly who is worshipped in this ancient space, but as I walk down the center aisle, my eyes are drawn to large statues along the walls. They’re carved of dark, glossy stone, their faces and features frozen in time. I’m not the only one studying them. Marshal is a few feet away from me and spins around, eyeing each one. He freezes, grabbing my hand, and gestures to one midway down.

“Look familiar?” he asks.

"Is that Morgan?” I ask, staring at my friend’s immortalized face. She’s as beautiful in stone as she is in real life. My eyes drop to her hand, where I see the dagger I’m currently carrying. “What is this? What’s happening?”

Marshal shrugs, eyes narrowed and wary.

“That’s the Raven Queen,” Luke replies. “Each statue is symbolic of the rulers of each realm represented in the apocalypse.” He points to one of a handsome man with sharp, pointed teeth. “The Vampire King.”

Marielle’s father. The resemblance is uncanny, even in stone.

Elizabeth wanders away and stands under the statue of a man and woman. Dark wings arch behind his back. They both have crowns placed on their heads. “That’s the King and Queen of my home—Talamh—Liam and Nadya.”

“Hildi,” Marshal calls, pointing to another. It’s a faceless man in a heavy cloak, hood covering his head. Tell-tale dreadlocks hang on his chest. “The Shaman.”

“Darius’ uncle.”

The Legion had been sold to the Shaman by the God Camulus, and they fought in the ring for him for decades. The fighting ring is where I met Morgan for the first time. Darius had been an ally at the Academy. I hope he’s still alive.

There are others I don’t recognize. Some terrifying, others beautiful and alluring. Each of our classmates hails from one of these realms—sent by their rulers to join in this fight. As we study each one, looking for a trace of familiarity, Luke wanders to the front of the sanctuary, closest to the altar. He stands under a statue, gazing upward. There’s little doubt whose likeness is immortalized in stone. The cheekbones are strikingly similar, the curve of the lips a perfect match. Luke’s hands ball into tight fists as he stares up at the stone face of his father, Lucifer.

“Good,” a voice calls, shattering the silence in the room. “You’re here.”

The scent of brimstone fills the room and my blade is pulled and ready in an instant—same with Marshal. Elizabeth tilts her head, alert and on guard, but Luke…Luke simply shoves his hands in his pockets and sighs before facing the altar, where a beautiful dark-haired woman leans against the marble platform.

“Hello, Luke,” she says with a grin. “We weren’t sure you’d make it.”

He chuckles. “No, I’m sure you’d planned on me not being here at all.”