Page 17

Skye slashed at the last spider, burying his sword deep with a satisfying crunch of exoskeleton. Flames licked up from the wound as the creature, large as a barghest hound, twitched in its final death throes.

Around him, the forest floor was littered with carcasses of fallen spiders. Their twisted forms lay scattered across the nest like boulders. The air was thick with the acrid scent of venom and the metallic tang of blood.

He wrenched his blade free, breath rasping in his lungs, sweat stinging his eyes.

Across the clearing, on the other side of the shimmering Veil tear, Kato was doubled over, covered in gore, chest heaving. “What is this nightmarish hellhole, and why—”

The tear gave another flicker that remade the world.

Suddenly, the spider that had been cleaved cleanly in half shuddered. Impossibly, it rose.

Kato screamed—half curse, half war cry. He swung his blades. “Why—won’t—you—die—you—freak—of—nature?!”

He punctuated each word with a frantic stab.

The spider gave a rattling hiss, its mandibles clicking together like bones clattering in an endless echo, the sound twisted by the presence of the tear.

Then it dropped.

“And stay down,” Kato panted.

Skye stepped forward—except he hadn’t, not really. His body was already two steps ahead as if the ground between had vanished. He could feel the sticky tension of webs underfoot, then nothing, then the crunch of leaves as his next step appeared out of nowhere.

It took longer than it should have, but slowly, they were able to move away from the tear. The air settled around them, the trees no longer shifting in and out of existence.

“Where are we?” Kato asked, breathing a sigh of relief when his voice didn’t skip.

“I don’t know.” Skye looked around. Clouds smothered the horizon. There was no sun, no way to tell the time of day or direction.

But he recognized the cliff they’d dropped from—the one jutting from the treetops in the distance. The Shelf. Its peak had been blown off when the Gate on top of it exploded, leaving it flat like a plateau.

That put them miles away from where they should’ve been. Miles away from Taly, left defenseless in wyvern, grendel, and shade-infested woods.

Panic struck like a hammer. “We have to get back to camp.”

Kato scoffed. “And how exactly do you plan on doing that? Where’s East? Where’s West? I’m not even sure about up and down right now.” He looked around. “If we wait for nightfall, and if the clouds clear, maybe we can use the Northern Cross?”

No. They couldn’t wait around for a star to guide them. Taly needed them now.

Skye exhaled through his nose to steady himself. Closing his eyes, he turned his attention inward.

At first, the bond was just a whisper—a faint hum in the background, like the distant murmur of a crowd.

As he opened himself to it, the volume rose. A thread pulled tight in his chest, tugging him forward.

“This way,” Skye said and set off into the forest.

Kato let out an exasperated sigh. “Sure, why not? Let’s just march off in a random direction. I’m sure the next thing we fall into will be a pit full of puppies and rainbows.”

“Stop whining,” Skye called back.

“This girl is going to get us killed!” Then, because he was out of options—and because Skye was already moving out of earshot—Kato followed, cursing under his breath as he stomped through the underbrush.

The sun was sinking by the time they made it back to anything that looked familiar, the forest’s shadows growing longer, thickening around them like ink.

A snarl echoed from somewhere ahead.

Skye didn’t hesitate. “Taly.” He took off at a sprint.

“Wait!” Kato called, but Skye wasn’t listening.

His only thought was her. Alone. In the dark. In danger.

He’d barely gotten her back, and now he was going to lose her again.

The world narrowed to the path ahead. Branches whipped past as he dodged trees and leapt over roots.

Then—firelight. A flicker through the trees.

He burst into the clearing. Taly was crumpled on the ground, eyes closed, breathing shallow.

Calcifer stood over her, no longer the gangly feline.

It had transformed—limbs elongated, sinewy muscles rippling beneath an iridescent, almost scale-like hide.

Part wolf, part serpent, blue eyes blazed with an unnatural light.

It had been a… surprise—finding out that thing was a shapeshifter. Not that Skye was worried. When it finally turned on her, he fully expected to have figured out a way to kill it.

And right now, as much as it pained him to admit, he was grateful for the monster.

The remnants of shades lay everywhere. The air stank of rot.

And the fight wasn’t over.

The undead surged from the forest. Low growls mixed with the heavy tread of countless feet trampling the undergrowth. Calcifer struck fast—wolf claws tearing through bone, serpent tail snapping like a whip to sever spines.

He was holding the line, but barely. They kept coming—too many, too relentless.

“Shit, motherfucker, shit, fuck, shit!”

It wasn’t the worst battle cry Skye had ever heard. He glanced over his shoulder just as Kato charged at one of the undead, his daggers flashing.

His brother might’ve been an asshole, but he was a damn useful one. Absolutely lethal in close range. His blades slipped between joints with instinctive precision, severing limbs with practiced ease.

Between Calcifer’s claws and Kato’s blades, they carved back the tide. Skye lunged for Taly, falling hard to his knees.

“Taly, hey, come on,” he whispered, hands trembling as he reached for her.

As soon as their skin touched, he felt a spark.

Taly was smoke, drifting in darkness.

There was no ground beneath her, no sky above. Only the void.

Then—a touch.

A brush of warmth against her consciousness.

She felt it, somewhere in the black—something solid. Something real .

Something to follow.

Skye turned her over, his eyes scanning her pale face. Her lips were blue, her breathing too shallow. But she was alive.

Relief hit him so hard his vision blurred. “Hey,” he tried again, shaking her gently. Taly groaned, stirring.

“We’re too open here!” Kato’s voice carried over the hack and slash of metal against flesh, Calcifer’s guttural roars drowning out the wails of the dead.

Shadows spilled from the trees. The undead poured in.

“Taly, wake up,” Skye said more urgently.

“Just bring her!” At the edge of the clearing, Kato motioned frantically.

Calcifer’s serpent tail lashed out, slamming through the front line and buying them a breath of space.

“Skye, come on!”

“I know you have this weird thing about being carried,” Skye said to her, “but this is an emergency.”

Then he scooped her up, blankets and all, and prayed that when she woke, she didn’t kill him.

He took off after his brother, sprinting through the trees.

The towering forest blurred into streaks of black and gray amid the darkness. Eyes glowed from the underbrush. Animals scattered. Moonlight filtered through the canopy, a dozen tiny spotlights illuminating the way.

Taly clung to him tighter. Awake? Or just instinct, shielding herself from the wind? He didn’t know.

A shriek rang out behind them. Then others rose in chorus.

“Sounds like somebody’s angry!” Kato yelled, grinning. His long strides carried him through the forest, making it look like he was soaring.

Whoops and wails chased them. Like animals screaming in pain, hundreds of them.

Then they were at the river.

Skye burst from the tree line onto the road, Taly in his arms. Kato and Calcifer kept pace beside them.

Three rivers flowed downward from the mountains, running parallel until they eventually converged into the Arda. This was the widest crossing. A long bridge carved across the landscape, its stone spine stretching over the frothing rapids. The storm-swollen currents churned, violent and deafening.

The bridge creaked underfoot, wide enough for two carts to pass. Almost two miles long, it took minutes to clear.

When their boots transitioned from wooden planks to damp, broken cobbles, Kato slowed, dropping the packs—what little he’d been able to grab. His ragged breathing smoked in front of him. “We can’t keep running like this.”

“It’s not like we have a lot of options,” Skye shot back. The screams were still following them, echoing over the water. “Come on.”

But Kato jerked his chin. “The bridge. What if we take it down? You think shades can swim?”

Skye looked out over the miles-long construction of stone and timber. They could knock away the support beams. It might be enough to collapse the middle, but… “It’s impossible.”

They’d never get it done in time.

“We’ll never know if we don’t try. C’mon!” Kato half-ran, half-fell down the steep slope of the riverbank, a reckless dance with gravity. “Skye! Now! We’re dead otherwise!”

“ Fuck !” Skye set Taly down gently. Calcifer immediately stepped over her, teeth bared to the dark.

This is insane.

That was the only thought in Skye’s head as he vaulted down the riverbank, boots splattering mud.

The bridge’s core structure fused enchanted arboreal spires with ley-threaded stone. The resulting hybrid material had unmatched tensile strength.

In short, two exhausted shadow mages weren’t bringing it down.

Up to his waist, the river raged as he waded in. The current slammed against his ribs. Silt shifted beneath him, slick and unstable.

Ahead, Kato strained against a massive pillar of gray stone, muscles cording as his palms pressed flat against the rain-slick surface.

Skye exhaled sharply. His breath came too fast. His body—his limbs, his core, even his bones—felt heavy .

He had nothing left.

But empty didn’t mean done.

Right now, Taly needed him. That was the directive everything else answered to.

Skye hurled himself against the column. The impact jolted up his arms, slamming into his shoulders. Pain sparked somewhere in the joint, but he grit his teeth and shoved harder. The rough-hewn stone barely groaned beneath the force.

Cracks . He needed to see cracks. He braced himself and shoved again.