Page 7

A s soon as we left camp, the trees began to grow thick, casting large swaths of shadows over the ground.

The trail we set off on was well-established, and Arden followed it with confidence.

Just as we fell into a steady pace, the trees thinned, exposing a wide, shallow river. The Shadow Wilds loomed on the other side.

We followed along the riverbank until we reached a rocky patch on the shore.

Arden stopped. “This is where we cross. The trail on the other side is old and overgrown. I’ve made the journey enough times to know the way, but like I mentioned, once we step foot in the Shadow Wilds it’s best if you stay close.

Those woods are not a place you want to get lost in. ”

“I’ve gathered as much,” I replied. Plotting my course across the water, I looked down at my long dress—it would be a hazard. As unprepared as I felt on the inside, my attire matched the sentiment. “I need a minute,” I said.

I handed Arden my torch, bunched up the length of my dress, and used the gold sash to secure the fabric in a knot at my side. Feeling a tad more prepared, I turned toward the stream.

The water at the river’s edge was clear, revealing multicolored stones that spotted the surface below. As a child, I would have reached down and studied the intricacies of each pebble. The thought strummed a pang of loss. Will I ever experience joy like that again?

Stepping beside me, Arden handed me my torch. “Shall we?” He offered his hand and led us onto the rocks.

The path was precarious, jumping from one large stone to the next.

Arden pointed out the unstable and floating branches and warned me to avoid their slippery surface.

One of my steps went wide and half of my shoe got soaked, but when we connected with the opposite bank, I was mostly dry.

I untied the silky blue fabric at my waist and let it flow back down to my ankles.

Satisfied to see I had found my footing, Arden led us between two bushes and into the trees.

Visually, the forest appeared … normal. Ferns dotted the lower level, and moss spread across broad stretches, blanketing the ground in varying arrays of green.

However, after my first few steps on the tainted soil, I felt an oppressive heaviness in the air.

Peering into the shadowy undergrowth, the dense foliage above let only sparse patches of sunlight shine below.

It was as if light itself was too timid to step forward.

The shadows felt different. Darker. My skin prickled with the awareness of being watched.

Like Arden had said, the path was overgrown and narrow, and it grew more crowded as we distanced ourselves from the river. Branches reached for us from every angle.

As I unhooked my tunic from a thorny offshoot, Arden whispered, “Be careful not to disturb the brush and shrubbery too much.”

If I weren’t so unsettled, I would have laughed at the impossible request.

A gust of wind swept through. The sound of rustling leaves filled the air … and that was when the realization struck. The rustling leaves were the only noise to be heard—no birds chirped, no squirrels barked from trees, there wasn’t a peep of wildlife.

A shiver danced down my spine. It was unnaturally quiet. No evidence of life, yet I had the sense that something, or someone, was just a few steps behind, hiding in the shadows.

Catching movement at the side of my vision, I turned. … No one was there.

I saw it again. … Nothing.

Again and again, I checked over my shoulder, expecting to find someone. Occasionally a bush or fluttering leaf could be blamed, but mostly—nothing at all.

“Keep up your pace,” Arden urged. “The longer we’re out here, the more the Slips learn of us, and trust me, you don’t want them anticipating your next move.”

“I thought the elixir and these blue flames protected us,” I whispered.

“Over time, the forest may persuade you that the shadows are more alluring than the protection of the torches. Slips are manipulative, don’t forget that. Now let’s get moving.” He resumed his grueling pace without waiting for a reply.

I struggled to keep up, staring at his back for what seemed like hours.

My legs grew sore, blisters formed on my heels from the new shoes, and more branches snagged at the threads of my blue tunic. Below my knees, a section of delicate trim frayed.

Movement flashed to my right, but this time, I sensed a shift in the air. I knew something was there.

I spun. It was Clay. He stood just off the path, peering around the base of a large tree—a wide smile on his face.

He shouldn’t be here , I thought.

Disconcerted , I grabbed for Arden, pulling the back of his shirt.

When he turned, he followed the direction of my stare, then looked back at me with confusion.

“Do you see him?” I asked, pointing at my brother.

“No … I don’t see anyone … just shadows.” With a frown, he tilted his head.

He didn ’ t see Clay .

After blinking again, I looked ahead. Clay was still there, as much of a solid figure as the previous day.

Arden pulled closer to me, scanning the area my gaze scrutinized. “Just shadows Nova. Let’s keep moving.”

I willed myself to believe him— it is a trick of the mind— but the figure remained. My brother continued to beam at me, even as I pulled my eyes away.

“Ok then,” I murmured, resting a hand on Arden’s shoulder. I urged him forward.

But for every step we took, I sensed Clay took one as well.

Even as we pushed on, Clay, or the Clay-like Slip, continued slinking in the shadows parallel to our path, visible only to me.

I picked a spot dead center of Arden’s shoulders and held my focus there.

Eventually, the form fell back, but I remained restless.

Jutting branches frequently needed to be lifted out of the way. The trail became ill-defined, to where I felt calling it a trail was being much too generous. I wondered how Arden knew which way to continue and prayed that we hadn’t strayed.

As much as I wasn’t looking forward to arriving at the Obsidian Fortress, the sight of Clay had made me paranoid and I couldn’t wait to get away from the dark shadows. With every step, my hatred for the eerie woods grew.

We were deep into the forest when Arden found a small clearing created by several fallen trees. It was the first area where sunlight reached the ground.

Arden propped his torch against a fallen trunk. “Sit and rest. I’ll round up the food.”

I had held my torch with an unwavering grip since we crossed the river. As I set it next to Arden’s, my hand felt cramped and empty. Sitting on a mossy log, I rubbed my sore feet.

Arden handed me a few pieces of dried meat and hard bread. “Only a few more hours and we should be there.”

I nodded, not sure if I felt more relief or fear.

“Nova, I’m sorry you were chosen. You may have made a poor choice, but you don’t deserve this.”

I flashed a tight smile. “I’m sorry they chose me, too.

” For perhaps the first time, I really studied Arden, taking him in as the man he’d become, not the boy I grew up with.

His solid brow added depth to his almond-shaped blue eyes.

The angular line of his jaw and nose would have been too harsh on another, but paired with the softness of his eyes, he had a handsome face.

A face that currently wore an expression of apprehension.

The past version of me may have opened up to him and confessed how terrified , angry and hopeless I felt. But I couldn’t do it. I didn’t want to grow close to someone again.

Moreover, it would have been stupid to confide in a man who worked for the enemy.

Arden seemed trustworthy, but I reminded myself trust needed to be earned—even then, it was best to be cautious.

Anyway, death was probably coming for me sooner rather than later; I was likely doing him a favor by remaining detached.

I washed down the stale bread and grabbed my torch. “I just want to get out of here. Can we move on?”

“Sure.” Quietly, he gathered his torch and bag.

We moved back into the shade, following a path which only Arden seemed aware of.

Trailing behind him, my foot hit something hard. A solid, off-white object rested among the lower vegetation … a skull.

“Arden look.” I kneeled down to inspect my discovery.

He bent beside me as I reached for a small twig to examine it with.

“What kind of animal do you think it was?” I asked.

“It is—or was a fox.”

Turning it with the stick, what I thought was dirt revealed itself to be a pattern of dark black lines that traveled throughout the bone. The lines covered the hard skeletal surface like lace, flowing around and into the crevices. “What are those markings?”

“The darkness works its way into the bone when an animal is corrupted by a Slip. It must have spent most of its life possessed.” He seemed intrigued, rolling the skull with his own stick.

“You can tell that by those marks?” I asked.

He nodded. “Most possessed animals don’t live too long—well, not long enough for the corruption to work its way this deep.”

He grabbed the skull from the ground.

My eyes widened in surprise. “Is it safe? I mean, should you be touching it?”

“It’s dead, so it can’t harm us anymore. But if it makes you feel better, I’ll keep it wrapped in a cloth.”

“Wait, you’re going to keep it?” As intriguing as it was, the thought of touching the skull, knowing it had been corrupted, disturbed me.

“Something like this would interest Jesmine,” he replied. “She would want to study the corruption patterns.”

It was interesting to hear him speak of the Keeper in such a way. At odds with how he spoke of her earlier, it almost sounded as if they were friends, making me thankful I had decided not to open up to him back in the clearing.

I said nothing further, and we resumed our steady pace, snaking through the shadows.

When the lurking presence returned, it didn’t bother hiding. A form solidified in the peripheral of my vision.

At first, I refused to look. But the urge to see my brother’s face grew strong, and thinking that I would undoubtedly never see him again, I glanced up to take a peek.

But it wasn’t Clay … it was my mother—or mother-like Slip.

And just in the way my memories of her face had grown fuzzy over the years, so did the form peering back at me.

I stared longer than I should have, hoping the apparition would solidify and come into detail, revealing my mother’s true features for me to memorize, but it didn’t.

Instead, the Slip began slowly extending a hand, reaching for my embrace.

I ripped my eyes away and increased my pace until I was inches from Arden’s back.

My hands shook, and my eyes stung. This rotten, hateful forest knows exactly how to pierce your heart, but I won’t let it make me a victim. I pushed Arden to move faster.

Sensing my agitation, his steps hastened.

I didn’t take another look.

It was late afternoon when we approached a large opening. The area was broad enough that the canopy overhead gave way to clear blue skies. The sight of sunlight was an instant reprieve.

And then, I spotted the enormous tree at the clearing’s center.

A wide-stretching crown of vibrant orange leaves glistened in the afternoon light. The colors were so vivid and bold, an unexpected gasp escaped me.

How can there be such a tree when all the foliage around consists only of dark greens and blues?

My eyes scanned down, taking in the light gray bark sparkling like silver. It was spectacular. The tree’s trunk stretched wider than any I had seen before, so expansive it would take five or six men connecting hands to wrap around its girth.

But its size and color were not what was most startling about the tree—more amazing was the hollow arched opening in its center. Tall and wide, the space blazed with deep orange flames, becoming one enormous hearth.

A fire tree.

Arden approached it without hesitation.

I followed with uncertainty.

The tree felt as if it grew more massive the closer we tread.

Just before we reached its base, Arden turned to me.

“I probably don’t need to tell you this, but when you’re brought to the Keeper, just do as you are told.

And don’t speak unless asked.” He chewed his lower lip, then added, “Jesmine answers only to the Ashloran Crown. She likes to be in control and flaunt her position, and doesn’t need much incentive to do so. ”

“Of course,” I replied. With the title, the Keeper, it was no less than expected. I appreciated his advice nonetheless.

Arden approached the tree.