Page 44 of The Garnet Daughter (The Viridian Priestess #3)

“Alright, when you get in there, you will see a panel to the left, similar to my ship,” August instructs. “The panel will be lit up. Do not press anything until you tell me what the screen says. We don’t want to detonate anything.”

He looks right at me, sending an affectionate chill down my spine, but then I fully process his words and panic. “Detonate?”

“It is a possible explanation. A fail-safe for the ship so the First Son soldiers do not have to surrender,” August explains.

“But no one is inside. You said there were no signs of life,” I retort and turn to 99 for confirmation.

He nods his helmet. “None that we can see on our scanners.”

“I guess we will find out,” Ferren says in flat contrast.

I can’t help but picture the entire ship exploding the moment we fold inside, a weapon left behind when the soldiers failed their mission.

“Are you sure?” August asks me.

I nod through my nerves. At least I haven’t volunteered to do this alone. I will have Ferren with me, and she seems much more confident, or perhaps her stern expression is more a reflection of having to work together when we haven’t had a chance to repair what I continue to put her through.

“Thank you for coming with me,” I whisper and place my palm on her arm.

My chest squeezes like it will pop when her demeanor gets a little softer, even if it quickly passes.

“Make this quick,” 99 commands.

“Ready?” Ferren asks me.

“Ready.”

I place my hand on the cargo door. We are only the thickness of the ship away from the destination, so it shouldn’t be a problem, but the moment I close my eyes and fold us, I sense the resistance. Not from a ward, but the hostile environment.

I press us in but we bounce, and when I shove forward again, forcing us to fold to the other side of the door, a menacing wave overtakes us. It constricts around my throat and throws us off course. I claw to gain purchase as we occupy the strange dreamlike space between one location and another.

August’s ship presents itself to me, the safe, cozy place I can always fold to, but I push it down and fight against my gift to take us to the locked entrance of the First Son ship.

We end up somewhere else entirely, a mix of both thoughts.

“Is this?” Ferren holds my arm so tightly it stings.

We both stand perfectly still, taking in the terrifying surroundings of the cockpit of the enemies’ ship. It’s empty and freezing cold, our breath coming out in frantic clouds as we realize we aren’t anywhere near where I intended.

“Should I fold us out?” I whisper.

Ferren concentrates, staring off to the side like she does when she is using her link to speak to 99. “They are bringing up a map for us.”

“How?”

“I don’t know.” She slowly lets go of her hold on me. “You didn’t mean to fold us here?”

“No,” I confess and realize if we try to fold out, we could end up somewhere worse than we are now. Either my gift is acting strange again, sending me places I don’t intend to be, or there is something very wrong with this ship.

Purple and yellow lights fade in and out on a wall of controls, so many stations and screens it makes the other ships seem tiny.

“It’s empty.” Ferren’s whisper is shaky.

The ship is utterly silent, except for the gentle hum of climate control turned too far in one direction.

The haunted aura of the dark room we stand in only gets more eerie as Ferren turns and points down one of three pitch-black halls connected to the cockpit.

It glows a soft gold for a quick flash, then the opening is black again.

“99 is saying we have to go . . . that way,” she whispers.

“Did he say how far?” I ask.

She looks off to the side, pausing and listening. “I guess they will tell us as we move.”

“Do you know how to use that?” I gesture to the small gun in her hand.

She chuckles. “No. I should just leave it. My light would probably be more help to us.”

I’m assuming 99 gave it to her for his own peace of mind, not because he doesn’t believe her capable but because he couldn’t physically come with her, so he gave her his weapon instead.

Her expression sobers when she sees my smile. “We should start walking.”

We slowly make our way through the ghostly ship in silence, except when Ferren translates their instructions by calmly whispering directions.

But the way she pauses and waits at each intersection, I can tell they are frantic on the other side, possibly arguing the best way to the cargo hull.

The passages of the ship are so dark, it is hard to move through them, the gently strobing lights our only illumination.

“Keep going.” She is just ahead of me, glancing back and forth as we pass rooms left open and empty, her hand held in a tense, branchy fist, ready to use her light.

The tension between us becomes unbearable. She’s so far away, it’s as if I never even folded back from Frith, still stuck there worrying about my friend on another world.

“Are you alright?” I ask weakly, already knowing the answer.

“If I wasn’t so distracted by how mad I am at you, this ship would be much more terrifying,” she jokes and then points down a particularly eerie passageway. “This way.”

“I am sorry for leaving without telling you.”

She stops walking, her back facing me with stiff shoulders.

“Ferren?” She pauses for so long, I worry she sees something in the darkness ahead, but then she sighs, her breath coming out defeated.

“The first time you left . . .” She turns, somehow looking smaller, the hard shell she has held against me falling away. “The first time was an accident, but the second time you did it on purpose. You disappeared, Calliape.”

I have to tell her the truth about the ritual, about everything.

She deserves to know I left without telling her not just because I knew she would object to me making sure the monster would not harm her, but also that I selfishly did so to smooth over the edges of the mistake I made.

How can I explain that without her hating me?

“I’m so sorry,” I say like a coward instead.

“I almost killed 99.” She shakes her head.

I take a steadying breath. “Ferren, I have to tell you something about the ritual we did in the temple.”

“Do you see that?” she interrupts, looking down the long hallway.

My stomach sinks to the textured metal floor. “See what?”

We both stare hard into the darkness and wait for the lights to glow with the next strobe.

“That!” she whispers, but it comes out too loud.

The hall is a mess of dark shapes. Nothing seems out of place, but the air is .

. . off. Green, glowing light fills the space all around us as Ferren calls forth her light.

With her gift illuminating the space, I can make out the outline of something on the floor ahead, sticking out from behind large barricading totes.

My eyes can’t seem to make sense of the shape.

But I can hear it.

The source of the whispering I heard from the outside of the ship. Now, deep groaning murmurs blend together in low, continuous tones.

“Do you hear that?” My own voice is barely more than a whisper.

She doesn’t answer, but her gift glows in a flurry of light. I touch her shoulder in case we have to fold. I may not know where my gift will take us next, but it will be away from here and whatever is down that hallway.

Panic rakes over my nerves. All the air is seemingly sucked from the passageways as the murmurs turn into a voice I have heard before, one that continues to follow me and present itself at random.

It’s separate from the whispers. I glance at the hall we just came from, hoping it is empty as it makes itself known again, deep and calling out.

However, the tone is absorbed by my body and not by my ears.

How is it possible to feel a noise but not hear it?