Page 8

“ W ait,” I blurted. I didn’t know what to expect beyond the tree. Thinking it may be my only opportunity, I pulled out the folded letter I’d written to Clay. “Can you get this back to my brother in Fernton?”

A sad smile crossed Arden’s face as he took the letter and secured it away. “I will deliver it on my next visit … but don’t expect a reply. Humans are not allowed correspondence at the fortress.”

I shrugged. “I didn’t expect one anyway.”

He returned his attention to the tree. Instead of walking toward the flames, he moved around to its side. Resting his hand on a protruding knot, he pressed in.

A camouflaged panel of bark, spanning from the ground to the height of his hip, popped open. The cover had blended seamlessly, hiding a compartment which held several bundles of small branches, each marked with a different color of string.

Arden took three sticks from a bundle entwined in black thread, then closed the hidden panel and returned to my side.

The sticks he held looked ordinary, like any you would find scattered on the forest floor, each roughly the length of my forearm.

“After I throw the twigs in, the fire will change colors. We only have a few moments to pass through. Follow me closely.”

I nodded and he tossed the branches into the inferno. The sticks lit and the blaze turned from a fiery red-orange to the same cool-blue, almost purple hue of the Ashloran torches.

Arden held out his hand, and I placed mine in his grip. He stepped into the hearth, pulling me behind.

With my first stride into the tree, I could see nothing but bright blue flames.

I was certain we’d be reduced to ash. Stars and suns, don’t let me burn alive. I braced for scorching heat and pain—but the blaze was cool, and as I took another step forward, I found the flames had receded.

At what should have been the back of the tree’s trunk, Arden’s figure disappeared through a veil of deep indigo shadow. I tightened my grip on his hand, following blindly. With my next step, daylight flooded my senses.

I emerged from a different fire tree’s base. A foreign land stretched before me.

I turned, studying my new surroundings.

An almost identical fire tree stood at our backs. As before, the tree sat in a clearing surrounded by the Shadow Wilds. Its leaves were the same vivid orange, its base just as wide, the bark a silver-gray shimmer.

Unlike the first tree, with only an obscure trail leading to its base, here, there was an established rock and dirt path that began at our feet and led up through an open hillside.

My gaze followed the slope, only to stop at its peak, where a looming structure waited.

The Obsidian Fortress.

Arden released my hand and waited for me to adjust to the sight. “The walk to the fortress only takes a few minutes. Are you ready?”

“Honestly, no. But I’m pretty sure I don’t have a choice.”

A sad smile curved his mouth. He paused a moment longer, then took the first step forward.

Similar to the Bright Zone, a vast area had been cleared between the fortress and the Shadow Wilds. The path we took cut through the wide, open yard and up the hill.

A tingling sensation crept across my skin as I scanned the distant tree line. The Shadow Wilds felt just as haunted here. And while I didn’t know exactly where here was, having traveled via a fire tree, I knew we were still deep within the forested region.

Our footsteps crunched on the path as we advanced, but my focus was on the obsidian structure ahead, its menacing details coming into view.

Obsidian, the impossibly black rock, had been laid like stone, sharp edges puzzled together to form a towering wall. I could see no mortar or evidence of how the pieces connected.

What magic was required to manipulate the material that way?

My steps staggered as I took it in.

As we drew closer, there were no manicured hedges or inviting courtyards to be seen, only the singular outer wall of the fortress, so black it seemed to consume all the light that shone in its direction.

I’d never seen anything like it, and I wanted absolutely nothing to do with it.

Where the Fernton palace was awe-inspiring, attractively designed, filled with welcoming archways which flowed into its distinct wings—the Obsidian Fortress was a solid mass, heavy and crude.

From the outside, it comprised of one black wall that rose three stories while it rounded away at the sides. The barrier was an endless curve, connecting to form a solid ring. There were windows up high on the wall, but lower to the ground, only small, sparse openings dotted the structure.

An ominous feeling took root and grew stronger with every stride.

To my dismay, Arden’s pace was unwavering, and in order to keep up, I had to fight every inclination to make a slow and tentative approach.

On the top, at each quadrant of the daunting ring, a tower pierced the sky. Of the four steeples, the one we headed for was the largest—the main entryway. Below its spire, a heavy, double door wood gate awaited.

On each side of the entrance rested a hulking, man-sized chunk of obsidian. Like stone sentinels, they guarded the doors. Their unrefined forms were unsettling, not representative of any man or animal, but appearing as distorted phantoms from an inescapable nightmare.

I averted my gaze and focused on the gate. A smaller door was set inside the larger right panel.

All too soon, we stepped up to the entrance.

Overbearing pressure seemed to radiate from the structure’s surface. The air felt thin and my breath grew shallow.

Arden reached for the heavy iron knocker and struck it against the back plate. The bang of metal announced our arrival.

A moment later, a small slit at eye level opened. A set of dull gray eyes peered out. They scanned over Arden, then shifted to me. After giving us equal inspection, the eyes vanished behind the slat.

Metal clanked. Hinges whined. The door slowly opened. Arden gave me a nod before stepping through.

I took one last draw of air and followed.

Moving across the threshold, I was taken aback by the unexpected contrast in my surroundings. The intimidating black exterior gave way to an opulent grand foyer that was pleasant and bright.

My breath eased as I took in the high cathedral ceiling. A large ornate chandelier hung at its center. Candles burned within, their flames orange and ordinary, casting a warm glow on the walls and polished marble floors.

To my relief, no one was waiting to greet us. Instead, the doorman latched the entry at our back, and Arden moved into the space. I trailed a step behind.

At the center of the room, a crystal orb was proudly mounted on a gold pedestal. The sphere was a masterpiece, its surface perfectly smooth and crafted to reflect every detail of its surroundings with mirrored precision. My pale reflection shifted and warped as we made our way around it.

“The grand entry was designed to be welcoming and lead visitors upstairs.” Arden said. “Beyond the foyer, there isn’t much on the first floor, work rooms and servants’ quarters.”

I glanced over to a hallway. He was right, it appeared plain and uninviting compared to the entry.

A decorative beige runner led us to a lavish wood staircase, welcoming its guests with sweeping banisters. A short flight of steps rose to a landing before splitting off and rising again.

Our footfalls echoed as we ascended the first stair.

“The second floor is where all the guest chambers and visitor’s rooms are located,” Arden said as we approached the landing and turned.

The halls curved away, but I could see the elegance of the foyer continued. Bronze candelabras and beaded trim edged the walls.

Without pause, Arden led me up and around another flight of stairs. “The Keeper resides on the top level, along with most everything else she values.”

Reaching the third floor, our ascent ended in a corridor, which split off in three directions.

Displayed at the side of each entryway was a rough stone slab mounted in the wall, all three a different color and material.

The meaning and purpose of the slabs were unclear, but I was too anxious to ask.

Taking the archway on the left, we moved through a series of curving walkways.

Arden glanced over his shoulder. “Don’t touch anything without permission on the third floor.”

In response, I flattened my palms against my sides.

Tapestries depicting lush landscapes decorated the walls. Occasionally, an alcove interrupted, displaying mysterious stones and wood artifacts, but I didn’t dare study them too closely after Arden’s warning.

We rounded several halls until the turns and corners caused me to lose any sense of direction. Already, the fortress felt like a maze I would never understand.

Footsteps thudded from ahead.

Arden stopped, outstretched his arm, and guided me to the side.

When the figure of a man rounded the corner, Arden shifted his gaze down, keeping it lowered.

Following his example, I looked at the floor.

The individual’s approach grew louder. Black boots appeared at the edge of my vision, then stopped.

From the corner of my eye, I could see Arden held perfectly still, so I, too, dared not move.

After a breath, the owner of the boots resumed on their path.

At the very last instant, unable to resist my curiosity, I looked up—straight into silver-gray eyes.

An Ashlora .

My face instantly warmed as the male’s penetrating gaze ran down me, taking measure.

Like a startled deer, I stood frozen.

The man was alarmingly attractive. Finely dressed in black trousers and a crisp white shirt that hugged his broad frame. He stood a head taller than me and appeared a handful of years older. His dark hair swept back in a wave, accentuating his prominent cheekbones and captivating gray eyes.

Unexpectedly, his lips pulled into a tight line—a look of displeasure.

I felt a tightness in my chest, all of my senses alert. Before I could blink, he looked away and continued on.

Arden grabbed my hand and pulled me forward. “Always step aside and show respect when encountering an Ashlora,” he reproached.

Ashlora are dangerous—and I was caught blatantly staring.

“Are they all so … imposing?” I asked, stumbling along, still processing the brief interaction and the way my heart raced.

Looking back at me, Arden’s brow scrunched. He huffed and moved forward without a reply.

The intensity of the man’s gray eyes lingered on my mind as we navigated another curved hall.

A set of open arched doors appeared. Carved flames, crafted with exceptional skill, danced up and down the entire length of the rich wood doors.

Slowing his step, Arden shot me a look to let me know I was about to meet the Keeper.

I swallowed the lump in my throat.

Just breathe, I reminded myself as we cleared the doors.

It was not a sitting room as expected—but a large laboratory.

Bookshelves lined the walls, and several tables were spread throughout.

A place of work, every surface served a purpose.

One table was filled with flasks and vials, while another was covered with small round stones, some with purple flames mysteriously wicking from their tops.

Rows of beakers displayed colorful liquids—and was that blood?

Anxiety rose. My attention pulled to a woman who stood silhouetted before a bright vaulted window at the far end of the chamber.

Arden cleared his throat. “Your Offering, my lady.” He gave a slight bend at the hips before stepping aside, leaving me in the center of the room, exposed.

I straightened my back as the woman turned.

The harsh sunlight shadowed her features and framed her figure in a luminous glow. Long red hair appeared as if it were fire itself, engulfing her.

I cast my gaze down and gave a subtle bow.

“Ah, my Blood Offering.” The Keeper’s voice was bright, with a mischievous edge. My eyes drifted up, watching her move across the room at an unhurried pace.

When her features came into focus, I was stunned by her beauty. The angles of her face were long and lean, much like her silhouette. She stood several inches taller than me, adding to her commanding presence. An elegant emerald dress was knotted over one shoulder and wrapped close around her waist.

When she stopped a few feet away, the room fell silent.

I peered up, catching her gray, cat-like eyes assessing me, burning into my soul. Their intensity forced me to withdraw my stare.

“Aren’t you pretty,” she crooned. “That is always helpful.”

I didn’t know what to reply, so I said nothing, hoping it wouldn’t upset her.

“What is your name, girl?”

“Nova ... Nova Winterspell.” I forced my name out, trying to act confident, but it sounded soft and raspy from my dry throat. I’d learned in prison not to appear meek, as it only invited more trouble—my first impression here was less than convincing.

“Well, Nova Winterspell, you will address me as, my lady.” Before I had time to reply, she commanded, “Now, hold out your arm.”

Not sure what to expect, I lifted my arm.

A gasp escaped me as she snatched my limb, twisting my palm up.

She placed two fingers over my wrist. The pads of her fingertips immediately heated my skin. “Good. Uncontaminated human blood,” she said, dropping my arm and turning back toward the window. “The new moon is in two days. Your services will not be needed until then.”

For a moment, I thought she had finished, but then she paused and returned her attention to me.

“Since you are here with a blood bond, that should be enough to keep you from trying to escape. Regardless, the exits are warded. The rules are, do not touch my things. Also, it would be best if you kept to your assigned areas … although if I find you wandering where you are not permitted ...” The corners of her mouth curved up.

She splayed out her hand and swiped it to the side, bringing my attention to a nearby bookcase.

“I am more than happy to give you a reminder.”

Rows of clear glass jars filled the shelves, all of them containing toes, fingers, and other small appendages.

I took a step back and swallowed a gasp.

“Claire, show her to her room.” Jesmine addressed a young woman I hadn’t noticed. She was tucked against the wall beside Arden.

With all the built up anxiety since being selected as the Offering, and traveling through the Shadow Wilds, I couldn’t bear to leave the room—not without knowing what my fate held.

The question slipped past my tongue before I could think better of it. “My lady, if I may ask, what exactly will my services as the Offering be?”