Page 16

I wake with a groggy heaviness pressing down on me, my entire body throbbing with pain. Blinking rapidly, I try to clear the haze clouding my vision. My head swims, and it takes a moment to remember—injuries, poison... Larah. The realization crashes into me like a stone wall.

Larah is gone.

Sitting up, I see Larah’s cold, lifeless body beside me. Oh gods—how could I forget? The memory slams into me like a wave, stealing my breath.

“Larah,” I choke out, my voice breaking into an unrecognizable sob. My sister. My best friend—the one who kept me alive through six years in the Hollows. Tears sting my eyes as I reach over, brushing her hair away from her pale, peaceful face.

“I’m sorry.” The words barely escape my throat. “I am so sorry I couldn’t protect you.” Tears spill freely now, racing down my chin. I rise slowly, every movement pulling at my flank where the spider impaled me. Glancing down, I find a black cloth binding the wound, the scent of herbs familiar and unmistakable. My parents’ healing mixture—it clings to me, stirring unwanted memories.

I look back at Larah. Her face is clean—too clean. Someone wiped the blood from her mouth, the same blood I saw spill out when she died. I force myself to my feet with a grunt. The sun is high—must be past noon.

Who helped me?

The thought rushes over me—Lukene. In the venom-induced haze, I thought he was here. But that’s impossible. He’s a royal—a corrupt, selfish bastard. He wouldn’t have helped me. Would he?

I only killed the one spider. Did he kill the other one? I shake my head. He wouldn’t interfere. I don’t believe anyone is allowed to. He wouldn’t anyway. He is the heartless Dark Prince. I have seen his cruelty. He wouldn’t help a meaningless prisoner.

It’s the venom. The venom can make you hallucinate. I must have cleaned Larah, used the poultice, and bound my wounds myself in my poisoned state. Yeah, that is exactly what happened. But where did the black cloth come from? I must have taken it from one of the prisoners I killed.

Maybe… maybe this is a hallucination. Some kind of cruel hallucination—a twisted nightmare. I kneel beside Larah and shake her gently, calling her name.

She doesn’t stir.

Grief tightens around me like a noose, and my heart fractures a little more as I realize this truly is real.

Among the harshness of nature’s racket, birds are chirping, bugs are buzzing, and the wind whispers through the trees. The sun hangs high in the sky, bleeding its golden rays upon the Shadowed Forest. However, among this beautiful scenery there is an oppressive sense of grief enveloping me. It’s like a suffocating cloak—weighing heavily upon my heart.

It is unfathomable, inconceivable even, that Larah, a skilled fighter, lay dead before me. Her once vibrant and loving spirit snuffed out by a cruel fate. How has she become so gravely injured? Questions echo through the corners of my mind, unanswered. The effects of the drugs we were given by the royals must have lingered, causing her to be weakened. I hate them. I hate the royals.

The continent carries on, unaware of the pain that tears at my heart. How could everything appear so normal when my world has been blown apart, smashed to pieces? A great emptiness gnaws at my very soul, a void left in the aftermath of Larah’s death. It feels as though a part of me has been ripped out, torn away, irreparably damaged by this evil twisting of events. This can’t be real. Everyone I have ever loved and cared for leaves me, and I can’t take it. My heart can’t take it. My father, my mother, and now Larah.

Taking her pale hands, leeched of any color, in my own, I feel the weight of her absence drowning me. A flood of sobs wracks my body uncontrollably, streaming in waves. In this moment, I do not care if others find me, hear me. All that matters is the loss that echoes through the depths of myself, a pain too great to be contained within my shattered heart. A great loss that will haunt my memory forever.

I sit there with Larah’s hand in mine for a time. I don’t know how long I have been sitting here, how long I have been sobbing. My throat feels hoarse and dry, my head spinning. I reach in my pocket and chew on a bunch of the leaves to help counteract the venom in my body.

Suddenly, a strong grip clamps onto my shoulder, jolting me from my trance. Startled, I jerk away in a shock, a gasp escapes my lips as adrenaline courses through my veins, and my fractured heart thunders in my chest.

Elm kneels next to me, placing an arm around my shoulder, pulling me into his comforting embrace. Tears are silently trailing down his face. He and Larah were close, really close. They were all each other had before I came along. We sit there in silence, in disbelief, for a stretch of time until Elm breaks the silence.

“She would want us to keep going, Reign,” Elm whispers, icy heartbreak drips off his words, like saying them sends a fragment of ice into his heart.

I meet his bloodshot gaze, my own eyes swimming with tears. “We can’t leave her body.” My voice trembles, my heart cracking open again.

“We will burn her so the beasts roaming this forest don’t… so they don’t—” Elm stops like he can’t say the words. He doesn’t want to say, so they don’t eat her.

I nod. Leaning down, I kiss Larah’s cheek one last time. “I love you,” I whisper to her.

Elm leans down, also kissing Larah on her cold cheek. His tears are splashing onto her face. We both look at each other and braid our fingers and kiss them. The little symbol that meant so much to us three.

He stands. I get to my feet beside him. He clasps my hands, saying the prayer over Larah’s body. “May the Mother of gods and goddesses cradle you, comfort you,” He pauses like the final words are too painful, but then continues, “And welcome you home to the eternal land of milk and honey when you are veiled in the shadows.” He looks at me and nods.

“May the mother,” I respond and sniff, wiping my nose on the sleeve of my dirty, bloodied tunic.

Calling upon my power, the burning in my core, I form a ball of fire in my hand. I lean down and drop the blazing ball onto Larah and will it to burn strong and bright. I focus on the pain, the grief that fills me, and pour that into my flames. Larah’s body becomes engulfed, the flames dance upon her body, sending her to the next life.

The smell of burning flesh and earth fill the suffocating air around us. Once the flames die out and nothing but ash is left, we begin our journey through the forest toward Serpent’s Reach.

We reach the base of the mountain before nightfall. As we start up the trail, a prisoner leaps from behind a boulder, his eyes wild with desperation.

“Elm,” he sneers. “I looked up to you in the Hollows, but I won’t go back. I’m sorry.”

Before we can respond, he charges at us, a heavy stone raised above his head. Elm steps in front of me, blocking my path.

“I’ve got this,” he growls.

The prisoner swings the stone, but Elm ducks, tackling him to the ground. The stone clatters away, forgotten. Elm’s fists fly with brutal precision, every punch fueled by grief and rage. The prisoner’s face becomes unrecognizable under the relentless blows.

With a final, savage strike, Elm draws his palm blade and slices the prisoner’s throat. Blood bubbles and spills onto the dirt in thick, crimson streams. I feel nothing—just the numb weight of sorrow pressing against my chest.

Elm stands, panting heavily. He holds out his bloodied hand, I take it without reluctance, and we continue up the mountain without hesitation, knowing we have to make it to the top by morning.

The trail is long and daunting. Our minds are occupied, and our hearts are in shambles. The sun is beginning to set but I feel like we are almost at the top. The air is thinner, and plant life is sparse. My thoughts keep drifting back to Larah—to her smile, her laughter that I’ll never hear again. She was always so protective of me. I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for her taking me under her wing when I first got to the Hollows.

It should have been me that died.

I push the thought away, swallowing the grief threatening to pull me under. Now isn’t the time to fall apart. Elm’s silent presence beside me is a steadying force, grounding me as we climb higher. He turns and looks at me as if he can feel the anguish I am in.

“We will get through this,” Elm murmurs, his voice low and steady. “We do this for Larah.”

I nod, too drained to respond. My feet ache, my stomach growls, and the blood-soaked bandages on my wounds itch. But the top is close—I can feel it. All I want is to rest, to clean myself of the grime and blood. Just a little further, I keep telling myself.

The moon is jarringly whole and shining brightly when we finally reach the top of Serpent’s Reach. The stars twinkle like dancing little flames, while the wind is chilly. We look around, observing a royal guard, his red capelet is bright in the moonlight. Walking over to him, he points to the massive cavern without saying a word.

We step into the darkness, our footsteps echoing off the stone walls. A flicker of firelight dances deep within the cave, guiding us forward.

“Hello?” I call out. The word bounces off the stone all around us as we continue to walk into the darkness that is swallowing us whole.

Suddenly, something is placed over my head, and I feel myself being restrained. I hear Elm struggling, so I am sure the same thing is being done to him.

I can barely hear over my panting breath and pounding heart. However, I hear the shuffling of feet close by. I break out in a sweat from nervousness of what to expect and the stagnant air in the cave. It doesn’t help that there is a sack tied securely over my head. Guided by my apprehender, I am made to walk somewhere within the cave. No one is speaking yet. I have no idea what is going on, but I hear a sound like water is being dumped into more water. It makes a splashing sound and then a male voice cuts through the air.

“Congratulations,” he says, his words cold and detached. “You passed the first trial. Now, welcome to the second.”