Page 160 of Where Darkness Falls

“Can we just get this bloody endeavor over with?” Riordan remarks. “This place makes my skin prickle.”

“I second that, mate,” Virgil interjects.

Maeva lightly shoves my arm. “After you, High General,” Maeva whispers.

Taking a deep breath, I step toward the looming iron gate and push it open. The gate groans and creaks loudly as the old hinges swing wide for us to enter. Everything about the scene feels like an omen, a warning to all who might enter. This is no longer the place to honor the dead, but to be tormented by them.

Siorai, I hope I’m not making a mistake.

The group follows behind in a single file as the path isn’t wide enough to continue in formation. “Everyone stay close and whistle if you sense trouble,” I whisper.

Cautiously, I follow the narrow pathway through the graveyard. The others follow suit, with only the sound of breaking twigs and crunching snow as the background noise for the next half hour. The further we travel into the graveyard, the more difficult it’s becoming to actually see the path, as the overgrowth is thicker here than at the entrance. In some areas, we’re having to cut through the brush to find the path, so we don’t stray or become lost. “The sky’s growing dark, High General,” Laisren warns.

“I’m well aware, Second Commander,” I retort, hacking through some of the foliage. It’s taking several minutes to cut through the thick, decaying shrubbery—wasting precious time that we don’t have. As the gray light in the sky cascades into darker hues and the mist thickens, the quicker my arm slashes through the branches blocking our path. My fear grows at the thought of being here when the spirits awaken. I’ve almostcleared another thick section when a low hum of voices rises beneath the ground as the headstones tremble.

This continues for a few moments until the graveyard shrinks back into silence. So I hasten my pace as much as possible. Before long, the voices and ground rumble again, reminding us of the quickly dwindling timeline before the tenants rise.

“Emyr, perhaps we should turn back,” Maeva stammers.

“We wouldn’t make it back to the gate in time,” Virgil interjects.

“We just need to move through quicker,” I bite out. “Come on. We’ll make it.”

Laisren moves his way up the line past the others to angle himself beside me on the narrow path, assisting in the demolition of roots and shrubbery. In this silent dance, we finally create a clear opening and make a mad dash down the winding, unstable path until we come across the next patch of overgrowth. We repeat this over and over again for several minutes, growing increasingly aware of how much time we’re losing. Without warning, another series of murmuring voices and vibrations cut through the silence, but this time, both are stronger…closer.

I glance around to find everything slowly fading to black. The luminescent glow of the burial grounds intensifies as long shadows are cast. A gnawing sensation eats at my stomach with every delayed step. I’m beginning to lose faith in reaching the end of this purgatory when something catches my eyes barely two-thousand yards away: the towering iron gates in all their warped splendor. The doors are open, as if waiting for us to exit.

I point toward our liberation.”The gate is just up ahead,” I say. “Run and don’t look back!” Then, we’re sprinting with wild abandon toward the end of this potential nightmare. The shaking ground has the vigor of a small earthquake, and the voices screech in a new frequency. The horrendous sound makes me want to cover my ears, but I don’t—too afraid of the slowed momentum. “Don’t stop!” I yell, hoping my voice carries over the noise.

We’re three-hundred yards away, and the tremors aren’t ceasing as they did before. “Emyr!” Maeva shrieks. I quickly glance back and see she’s pointing toward some of the graves near us. To my horror, the transparent, luminous white spirits of the dead are seeping from their tombs.

Seconds.

We have seconds left to make it.

Two hundred and fifty yards.

I force my legs to run quicker, while also not tripping along the bumpy path. “Faster!” I yell.

The gate is just ahead.

One hundred yards.

We’ll make it.I think to myself.Siorai-willing, we have to.

We duck our heads as wayward spirits descend around us from the sky above, but we never stop running. They may not be able to touch us while we’re on the pathyet, but they seem to enjoy making our journey more difficult. Every second is now precious. Maeva pants heavily behind me, and the Cadre spews curses at the unceasing barrage of haunts that laugh and wail at our expense.

Fifty yards.

“Almost there,” I declare.

A weight is slowly lifting off my shoulders as we inch closer. We’re cutting it close on time, but that no longer matters. We’ll make it through those gates and leave all of this behind. The banshee won’t foretell our fates, nor will we have to imagine what the other fiends have in mind.

We’re going to mak?—

My heart plummets.

No!