Page 9

DOOMBARKS

SERYN

B efore the beast could claim me as its meal, something shackled around my wrist. My eyes snapped open. Just as the monster’s tentacles were mere inches away, Gavrel jerked me out of reach and into the twirling portal.

A rush of life-giving air filled my gasping lungs as the thought of my childhood drowning invaded again.

Gavrel had saved me then, too. I was sure of it now. The memory was once obscured either by the trauma or by Melina’s ember, but the haziness had finally cleared.

A younger Gavrel swam toward me in the bubbling darkness. Then he was dragging my limp body from the pond that had tried to claim me.

The images flitted away as Gavrel’s concerned focus locked on mine. Refusing to part from him, I mimicked his grip and locked my fingers around his wrist. We plummeted among a slurry of fizzing stars as they crashed into the rotating wall of liquid.

Unceremoniously, the portal deposited us in a soggy heap atop a moss-covered slab, just big enough for our tangled bodies to lie upon. We clung to each other like sodden weeds cast out of the sea, and the portal fizzled away into the aether as if it had never existed.

Exhaustion coursed through my muscles and my mind. Gavrel gently untangled himself from me, and I forced myself to sit upright.

Coughing, I winced at the muddy liquid fleeing my lungs and splashing onto the stone. I ran the back of my hand over my mouth, nose crinkling as a pungent musk stole space in my lungs. “What am I smelling? Please tell me it isn’t me,” I groaned.

A low chuckle reverberated as Gavrel glanced at me. My eyes narrowed at him. He shrugged, picking himself up. “You get used to it after a while—the peat. So much underlying decay throughout the mire.” He scanned the area, adjusting his broadsword. “It’s barely noticeable in the city.”

I offered him a deadpan glare. “What a shame. I love the smell of rotten eggs in the afternoon.”

He shook his head, an amused expression lining his face as he grabbed my hands and helped me stand. I rose, taking care not to slip into the muddy, debris-ridden water surrounding us.

My sodden rucksack shifted awkwardly along my back, making me keenly aware of how uncomfortably wet I was. The air was muggy, sticking to my skin and leathers in a clammy embrace. How I wished I could change into dry clothing, but everything in my bag was surely drenched. “You lose your pack?”

He shrugged. “It’s no matter. It shouldn’t take long to find our way to Helos.

” Reaching up, Gavrel seized two sturdy, long branches from an overhanging tree.

With a swift, decisive motion, he broke them off, the sharp crack echoing like the sound of bones snapping.

I shuddered, a twinge of empathy washing over me for the tree’s pain.

In every direction, slim gray trees lurched from the murky depths, their contorted appendages scraping at the overcast sky.

Doombark cypresses . I believe that’s what Magister Barden called them during our lessons.

Various vines and vegetation drooped from the boughs, clung to the peeling bark, or drifted solemnly along the shivering water.

“Thank you for saving me from drowning … for the second time in our lives,” I muttered .

He nodded before stepping off the stone. The water lapped at his calves as he jabbed his stick into it.

I breathed in through my mouth, trying to avoid inhaling the scent of decomposition.

Hauntingly captivating, a chorus of swamp crickets chirped as I scoured our surroundings, and despite the humidity, I shivered.

It was rumored that the Perilous Bogs had claimed many wanderers over the centuries. There were many stories of deceased mortals floating up from the depths, their physical bodies preserved, albeit bloated and waxy, by the swamp.

My shoulders tensed, lifting a little as my imagination scratched within me. Perhaps the trees were the last remnants of bog bodies that had never escaped the muck—bones twisted, stretched, and planted deep.

A fetid waft of air rustled through the branches, causing the extremities to sway; the vines dripping from them shuddered.

Far in the distance, I thought a pallid hand crept out of the surface, its crooked fingers groping at the sky.

I blinked several times and rubbed my eyes.

When I looked again, only murky, rippling water remained.

I pushed my shoulders down and back, squeezing my hands and then shaking them out at my sides. I was exhausted, and my mind was playing tricks on me.

Gavrel’s chest rose and fell evenly as he studied the expanse. His calm composure comforted me, my mind sweeping away grisly musings. I plucked at the damp sleeves on my biceps; the snug cuffs were more and more like manacles. My brow furrowed. “What the void attacked me in the loch?”

“Something that had no business being in Midst Fall,” he grumbled, offering me the second branch and helping me step into the tepid water.

“Was it a Void creature?”

“I suspect so. Which would mean the problem we’ve been having in Surrelia is spilling into this realm.” The side of his jaw ticked angrily.

“You have thoughts on that?” I prodded .

He grunted.

“Your jaw is about to crack off. So, I think you just might have some ideas,” I snickered.

He slowly shifted his jaw from side to side before regarding me from his peripheral.

“The portals between realms are weakening. I’m not sure why or whether it’s intentional.

Perhaps it’s connected to the thing trapped in the amber boulder—in the palace dungeon.

” His fist tightened around the walking stick. “Regardless, I mean to find answers.”

I rubbed my lips together and lifted my chin. “We’ll find them together.”

His brow crumpled. “Seryn …”

“It’s too late, Gavrel. I have my memories now. I’m tired of drifting through life … tired of pretending that we can’t fight back. We’ll find Kaden, and then we’ll figure out how to save our realm.” I breathed in, my chest expanding. “I’m not weak.” My words rushed out on an exhale.

If I said it enough, I’d start to believe it.

Gavrel paused and turned to me, water slapping at his knees irritably with the sudden movement. My eyes were glued to his thickly muscled thighs as his breeches clung to the skin.

I braced myself for words of dissuasion. For him to order me to stay tucked away somewhere. Or maybe he thought everyone else would be safer if I hid so my abilities didn’t tear them apart. Bitterness coated my tongue.

“Stop.” He waited until I brought my eyes to his. “I can see your mind spinning. Weak is a word I’d never associate with you.”

I scoffed, turning my face to the side. A heavy sense of disbelief and embarrassment dug into me. My boots sank deeper into the muck. Perhaps I was turning into a doombark.

Wetness splattered against my legs, the droplets cooling my heated, leather-clad skin for a moment before Gavrel gently cupped my chin. I resisted his touch, my teeth clenching and turning my chin to stone.

Gavrel’s thumb brushed over the hollow of my cheek. The tension in my shoulders released, and I allowed him to turn my face back to his. His features softened, and he leaned forward a bit.

Surely, he could feel my pulse skitter beneath his fingertips. Gavrel’s eyes searched mine, and I drowned within their emerald depths.

“You’re one of the fiercest people I’ve ever met. You’ll tear every realm apart to save Midst Fall and those you love … to find Kaden.” He rubbed his lips together. “And you’ll succeed, Asteria.” The name still did something to me, warmth buzzing under my skin.

He studied every angle and curve of my expression, one surely of hesitant acceptance. Until finally, he pulled away. I wanted to drag his hand back, but I dug my fingernails into my belt instead. Straightening, he sighed wearily.

In silence, we moved through the swamp, prodding at the spaces ahead before stepping, avoiding hidden wells beneath the thigh-high water.

Gavrel took my hand, guiding us around sinkholes and pushing decrepit, rotting logs out of the way with his stick.

The sound of toads and insects, shifting foliage, and sluggish ripples of liquid serenaded us as we went, only to be interrupted by the occasional slap of my hand as I swatted away the flying insects biting every inch of my exposed skin.

Once more, he jabbed into the water, his chest expanding with a deep inhale as he calmly brushed a mosquito from his cheek. “Helos shouldn’t be far now.”

Carefully, I stepped beside him, unsettling a chunk of bark as it coasted across our path. Watching, Gavrel and I paused. Atop the graying wood, a tiny, brown toad croaked angrily before leaping into the water with a plop. I smirked, a rush of camaraderie washing over me.

“Almost accurate. If you weren’t heading in the wrong direction.” We flinched at the haughty tone to our right. Within our next breaths, we brandished our weapons as we spun toward the stranger.

My branch flew from my fingers, sinking into an unseen hole. With the swamp water waist-high, my body wobbled as I tried to regain my balance and not topple over.

Gavrel grabbed my rucksack, and I steadied myself while gawking at the man’s very shirtless, very toned torso. My jaw dropped along with my hands.

His face was just as chiseled as his muscles, albeit coated in a thin layer of a greenish-tinged sap like the rest of him. The color highlighted his brownish-red hair, its wavy, russet strands skimmed the broad expanse of his shoulders.

Whatever the substance was, it didn’t hide the various linear scars marring his upper body, including a jagged line that ran diagonally from his left temple, through his straight, thick brow, to the apple of his high, angular cheekbone. By the look of it, he was lucky to have his eye.

I breathed in, no longer smelling the acrid swamp aromas. Either I was now used to it, or I had lost my senses. The man was dangerously appealing.

He moved forward, the water rippling around his clingy, dark breeches.

“Another step would be a grave mistake,” Gavrel snarled, positioning himself in front of me and raising his broadsword a fraction.

I huffed, my slight lapse in attention broken. I remembered to glare at the stranger, but couldn’t muster any fear despite his arrogant display of his body and approach.

A nearly imperceptible smirk tweaked his mouth. Flaring around his tall, athletic form, a midnight-colored aura licked at his skin like flames.

Gavrel widened his stance. My power was tucked away, and the Druik was entirely unconcerned. He’s flaunting his ember on purpose . One of my eyebrows rose at his boldness.

“Now, now. No need for bloodshed. These waters have claimed enough bodies,” he stated in a droll tone.

He held up one hand, making a come-hither gesture before turning to the side. Easily as tall as him, he held an intricately carved wooden staff. It was likely more a weapon than a walking stick. “I’d say it’s a pleasure to meet you—Seryn, is it?—but I’d be lying.”