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Anthea felt her stomach twist, nausea threatening to overpower her. She covered her mouth with her hands as she stumbled back.

“It’s too open. We need to lead them away from here!” Haldrian shouted above the chaos, his face streaked with splatters of blood.

Eldrion’s eyes darted toward the cave, where Anthea was. “I’ll come back for you,” he yelled, tossing two backpacks into the cavern: hers and his. “Hide, and do not leave this cave until you see me.”

“They’ll recognize Kaelan. We cannot leave him here.” Beldor, clutching his wounded shoulder, added urgently.

With swift precision, Eldrion drew his gleaming sword, bringing it down in one smooth arc. Anthea gasped, recoiling further into the cave—Kaelan’s head was severed from his body.

Haldrian bagged it.

With one last look at her, Eldrion shouted, his voice rough, “Hide!” And with that, he turned, joining Beldor and Haldrian as they fled toward the rocky mountains.

She watched them melt into the terrain beyond. Then, she grabbed the backpacks and ran deeper into the cave, crouching behind a large rock and pressing herself flat against the cold stone wall.

The sound of clinking metal and heavy boots grew louder, shattering the silence that had settled after the others left. She strained her ears. Voices filtered in, drawing nearer. Anthea placed her palms over her mouth to silence any inadvertent sounds. Every heartbeat felt like a thunderous drum, threatening to give away her position.

“They went that way!” one of the soldiers barked. “You! Follow them, don’t let them escape!” The command was met with the sounds of hurried footsteps, signaling most of the soldiers breaking away to give chase.

“Look at this one,” a gruff voice said. “She worked in the Iron fortress. Do you reckon she was a sympathizer?”

Another voice, colder and more mocking, retorted, “Guess we cannot ask her now, can we? Pity. I would have enjoyed interrogating her.” A shiver ran down Anthea’s spine at the cruel mirth in his tone.

“This one’s missing his head. Black leathers, no sigils on his armor?—”

“They have taken great lengths concealing their identities,” the leader’s voice, authoritative and commanding, replied.

“Think anyone went inside there?”

Her heart felt as if it might leap out of her chest at the question.

After what felt like an eternity, the one who had given the commands responded, “It shouldn’t be possible—still . . . set up a watch here. If anyone is inside, they won’t be getting out without us knowing.”

The voices seemed father back now.

Anthea waited, not daring to move before she was sure no one was standing at the cave entrance.

She waited for a long time.

Then, holding her breath she peeked from the stone.

The entrance was empty.

Shaken, she turned her eyes back to the darkness of the cave.

It was now or never.

46

Taking a deep breath, Anthea slipped her arm through Eldrion’s larger backpack and hoisted it to her back. Her smaller one, she carried on her front.

With a final quick look back at the mouth of the cave, she stepped forward.

Soon, the darkness enveloped her, the air inside cooler and musty with the scent of undisturbed earth. Her hand grazed the cave wall, its cold, damp surface rough beneath her fingertips. She walked deeper inside, the silence around her so absolute she could only hear her quiet breaths.

It seemed endless—the darkness, the cave. It stretched on and on, its path carved deep into the mountainside. Anthea had started to count her steps to keep her mind busy—she had taken six thousand and fifty slow and cautious steps already in the pitch black, seeing nothing. Trusting her hands and feet and hoping for the best, she continued her slow descent, continued putting distance between herself and the Iron patrol. With every step she took, there was more distance between herself and Kaelan’s headless corpse, Syrafina’s lifeless eye?—

Four hundred and two steps later she touched something slimy on the wall. Anthea screamed and lurched sideways, losing her footing on the slippery ground.