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S lips—they found me.

Inky outlines prowled the nearby trees, shooting fear through my veins. My heart surged and breath quickened—I was ready to flee … yet my limbs remained motionless.

Movement flashed from the corner of my eye. No footsteps or sounds, just drifting shadows. I caught the movement again, yet my body still refused to act.

My breathing grew fast and wild. The entity crept closer, then lingered.

A moment passed.

It glided closer once more, then paused. Perhaps it was suspicious: Why didn’t I look up to see what approached? Why wasn’t I responding to its game?

Whatever had caused its delay was fleeting. Shadows pooled from the ground around my legs and collected into a mass of darkness in my periphery. My breath caught, waiting for it to pounce.

But it didn’t pounce. Instead, it moved nearby, lower, into my field of vision. The darkness had taken the shape of a man, and kneeled before me so I could see its face emerge—a face I longed to see.

Devrix.

My heart twisted. I had played this game before with a Slip that pretended to be Clay and my mother.

I wished it were Devrix, here to save me.

Perhaps that was why the Slip had chosen his likeness—it had peered into my mind and seen what I desired.

But the thing in front of me was a mockery at best. All I could see was the wrongness within, how the lips were too thin, the eyes flat and lifeless—nothing like the dazzling quartz that sparkled in the eyes of the man I adored.

A malevolent smile pulled at its lips. The pungent smell of rot filled my nostrils. Its face hovered, studying my unmoving body, unsure what to make of prey that didn’t respond.

In the blink of an eye, the resemblance to Devrix was gone, replaced with a floating murkiness. The Slip saw my weakness, my inability to flee, and didn’t need to play games. Its true form appeared. A festering darkness, a void.

The heap of hatred split, and a rattling sound filled the air—I knew what was next.

Darkness engulfed me … but this time, I felt nothing. No bitter cold and piercing pain.

As the world faded, I was grateful—grateful to be spared the all-consuming icy agony as the Slip took over.

My eyelids parted, enough to see the morning light illuminate the map still spread in my lap, my posture unchanged.

I could hear my name being called in the distance. It sounded like Jarrett's and Arden's voices—they were searching for me. The calls moved closer down the hillside.

“No!” Arden’s voice sounded moments before boots appeared at the edge of my sight. My body remained immovable, denying me a way to look up and confirm it was really him.

A shaking began in my vision, accompanied by a pattering sound. He is trying to wake me. My head sagged low and off to the side, unwavering.

A hand appeared by my wrist, checking for a pulse. Then it rose to my chin and tilted up my face. Arden’s concerned gape came into focus only a moment before he let out a gasp, “Slips!” He lunged back, releasing my head.

He’d seen it in my eyes—I was infected by a Slip.

I heard Arden swallow, followed by a breath of silence.

After contemplating his next actions, Arden returned with newfound determination. He snatched up the map from my lap. I heard the paper roll. The empty sack and bottle of elixir were collected from the ground at my sides, and a moment later, a thunk sounded from the hollow of the tree behind me.

He searched my pockets, retrieving the knife, the instructions he’d left—and the sealed letter Devrix had given me.

The note shook in his hand.

I expected him to snap the seal and read the contents. Surprisingly enough, he returned the letter to my pocket, unopened.

And then I was moving. Arden hooked his arms around my waist and hoisted me over his shoulder.

He carried me away from the hollow trunk full of evidence.

With my body draped over him like a sack of grain, my vision returned to the ground.

“I found her,” he yelled after we had distanced ourselves from the fire tree.

His feet kept moving, his breathing heavy.

“How did she make it over there?” Jarrett called from far off.

My view was a blur of leaves passing by on the ground. Arden's steps were heavy, burdened with my weight.

“What happened?” Jarrett could be heard panting as he drew nearer. “How did she get out of the ropes? Is she ok?”

“I’m not sure,” Arden lied. “She’s alive, but she isn’t moving, and her skin is freezing.” There was a pause before he added, “She is shadow ridden. I can see it in her eyes—all black. We should restrain her just in case. Do you have extra rope?”

I remained slung on Arden’s shoulder, but heard Jarrett fuss with my arms.

The stone had done this, took away my movement and feeling. Unlike before, the Slip did nothing to fight or resist as they carried me back to the fortress—it had no control, either.

Is that the purpose of the stone, to make the Slip unable to gain control?

“I think we can agree that it would be best if Jesmine doesn’t know she broke from her bonds,” Arden said.

“Right.” Jarrett agreed. “It would only lead to punishment for us both. We’ll say we found her at the offering platform, same as always … but inexplicably immobile.”

I couldn’t move to see the men’s expressions, but I’d bet Arden was relieved Jarrett didn’t push into the truth of how I broke free, and Jarrett was relieved Arden wasn’t curious about my paralysis.

I failed to escape, my only opportunity wasted. That was my repeating thought as the men returned me to the fortress and descended the dungeon stairs.

We entered a cell, and they set me in a chair at the room’s center. It was the same place I had been restrained during my previous possession.

Arden bound my ankles, and Jarrett chained up my wrists. My body sat limp. I remembered the agony the last Slip inflicted—tugging and pulling to be free at the cost of my ripping skin and injured shoulder. At least the stone would prevent me from feeling any pain this time.

Once bound, the men parted without a word. Obviously neither of them were loyal to Jesmine, but they didn’t trust each other, either. I wondered where the distrust stemmed from. Had something occurred, or was it a matter of self-preservation?

Alone in the silence, my eyelids closed over and sleep found me.

I was awakened with a jolt. My mind pulled from a dream and returned to the dreaded cell.

My gaze tracked wildly—the Slip had gained control of my sight.

“Wake up, you wretched thing!” Jesmine spat.

The slightest tingling sensation ran down my limbs. I wondered if it was the Slip trying to move, albeit unsuccessfully.

“Stupid girl. What is wrong with you? Wake up!” Jesmine’s frustration rose. Grasping my shoulders, she shook me hard. The Slip still hadn’t gained control of my body, I swayed forward, head hung low.

With a huff, Jesmine left the room. I heard her summon Jarrett in the hall, asking him what they had done to me. Her irritation flared when he informed her that he and Arden found me in this unresponsive state.

“I don’t know what is going on, but you better hope this isn’t a repeat of last time!” She shouted. Her shoes clicked madly back into the room.

With my sight limited to the ground, I tracked her movements by sound. The sliding of a drawer, contents tossed about. A thunk, the drawer closed.

Jesmine’s feet appeared, fitted in a pair of emerald green heels.

My view shifted, Jesmine’s face framed in its center. “I know you are in there. I can see the girl’s eyes corrupted with your dark soul.” She lifted a strap to my forehead, wrapping it around the sides and securing it behind me, fastening my head upright.

She stood back to assess her work. “Why don’t you move?” she urged. “Try out your new body. Are you not eager to wreck the human form which you now possess?” Her gray eyes examined me, but the Slip used my sight to study the room—visible at last.

Jesmine bent, cupping my chin in her hand. “I have offered your spirit this home. The least you could do is acknowledge me.” Her jaw clenched and she pulled back, resting her hands on her hips.

Her voice filled with derision. “Are you some sort of weak spirit, too insipid to control the body you’ve possessed?”

No reaction from the Slip.

A hand flew across my cheek, jerking my vision to the wall. I felt nothing.

“Do you not seek revenge on those that have cursed you? Talk to me!” she demanded.

The Slip could not reply if it wanted to, and I knew it. With the state of Jesmine’s rising anger, things were going to get worse. I may not have been able to feel pain, but I feared I would meet my end sooner because of the Slip’s inability to respond.

“Surely that meek girl cannot be holding you back. You must be a complete dullard to waste the opportunity I am giving you.”

My eyelids fluttered rapidly, as though the Slip was enraged by her taunt.

Jesmine caught the movement and straightened my chin. Her mouth pulled up with satisfaction. “You are awake in there. Can you really not move her limbs? …” She waited. “Blink slowly once for yes, or twice for no.”

My eyelids shut slowly, once. I wasn’t sure how to feel about the new line of communication.

“Well, at least that is something.” She stood tall. “This may not be a waste after all. In fact, I may enjoy the fact that you cannot move—easier to rouse cooperation. Now tell me, were you a Shadorite of any consequence?”

My blinking kept its regular pattern, the Slip not replying this time.

Jesmine tapped her foot impatiently. “Once for yes, twice for no,” she repeated.

The Slip focused on the items on the table behind her, avoiding her presence.

“You Slips never make things easy.” She muttered, turning her back and approaching the table.

“It will be so much easier for us both if you simply answer me. The question is not a hard one.” She pivoted back to us. “Were you, or were you not, a Shadorite of any status? … Did you have any power or sway in your society?”

Maybe the Slip was dull—it certainly wasn’t bothered by Jesmine’s menacing presence.

She kneeled closer, voice smooth. “You see, I am not the enemy here. I am only trying to get a line of communication with the Shadorites. As you used to be one of them, I would assume you would know where to find them. All I am asking for is a little negotiation. You wouldn’t even have to tell me where the survivors are.

I can send you … alone.” She glanced down at my limbs.

“In this body, if you can gain control—or we can try another one, if it suits you. Does that sound agreeable?”

I may not have been able to feel physical sensations, but the idea of my body being set free into the Shadow Wilds while under the control of a Slip was terrifying. I felt a pit of dread building in my soul.

What is Jesmine up to? Why does she want to communicate with the Shadorites?

The Slip denied her a reply.

Jesmine turned her back and walked over to the table. There was a soft shuffle, then a moment of silence.

A sharp crack filled the air.

It caught the Slip’s attention. My gaze darted to Jesmine, who towered near, a switch in her hand. The Slip scanned side to side, looking for evidence of what had occurred, but with my head strapped down, we could not see my limbs.

“Hmmm, so it’s not a ruse.” Her heels clacked, her hand turned my head. My focus stopped on a long welt on my chained up arm, growing redder by the second—she’d lashed me—I hadn’t even felt it, of course the Slip hadn’t either.

She tossed the switch on the table. “You will give me answers,” she stated. “Consider this an introduction. Now that you understand my desire for information, I will give you some time to contemplate the offer. When I return, we move to the next level of interrogations.”

With that, she left the cell.

What does the Slip think of my unresponsive limbs? Is it even a conscious, thinking individual, or more of a lingering fragment of rage filled energy—something left behind from a burned up Shadorite’s soul?

The first Slip that inhabited my body seemed like the latter—incoherent calls and flailing limbs, no obvious agenda other than destroying its host and causing chaos. But Jesmine seemed to think they could communicate—given the right motivation.

There were long periods of silence, broken by murmurs drifting through the corridor.

I was in and out of lucidity as time passed, my body motionless and bound to the chair, eyes still directed at my newly marked flesh.

If I could feel, I am certain my body would have been in deep anguish from sitting in the same position, arms outstretched.

I also should have felt an urgent need to empty my bladder.

Instead, the disconnect was strong. Like a bodiless spirit, I simply viewed the world around me without consequence.

When the Slip drifted off, my eyelids closed.