Lark didn’t respond. Not that Isla expected her to. Still, Isla clenched her fists in frustration. Her ancestor wasfromhere. She knew Cronan. She had all the answers Isla needed.
But she was her enemy.
Lark was ancient. Untrusting. Isla had portaled them to Skyshade. Lark had left her for dead buried miles under the ground. The only reason they were allies now was because of these strange woods.
This could be Isla’s only chance to ask her ancestor questions. Maybe...maybe if she just asked the right one, she could get her to talk.
She turned to Lark—but instead, she saw herself. Darting around a tree and vanishing from view.
No.
She blinked and was plunged back into time.
Isla was surrounded by the trees of a different forest—one she would know anywhere. She glanced down and found a sword gripped in her hand. A twig snapped in front of her, and she looked up to see Terra in an offensive stance with two blades pointed at her. By the level of blade she was using, Isla guessed this was maybe five or six years ago.
Before she could look for more clues of the time that had passed, Terra was upon her, swords slicing impossibly fast, and it took all of Isla’s focus to deflect her guardian’s advances. No matter how fast Isla moved, she couldn’t block both blades.
Isla’s world erupted in pain as one of Terra’s swords tore down her side. Blood seeped through her clothing. Still, teeth gritted, she managed to avoid another strike—but then her guardian turned and stabbed her in the stomach.
A sob nearly spilled from her lips. She just barely closed her mouth against it.
But Terra could tell. Could tell she was about to break. And that was unacceptable. Terra advanced, struck again—and this wound was deeper. Isla’s knees hit the ground as pain exploded behind her eyelids. She struggled to breathe.
Slowly, she peered up at her guardian. And for once, she felt not worthlessness, not shame—but rage.
“This isn’t fair,” Isla yelled, and she couldn’t find it within her to regret the words. What would her guardian do to her that she hadn’t already done before? Isla’s voice was steady. “Two blades against one isn’tfair.”
Terra only smirked. “Do you think anyone will care about fairness at the Centennial? Do you think you will be fighting on equal footing?” She shook her head, then threw both swords to the side. “You don’t want blades? Fine.”
She raised her arms, and the forest swelled with her. The trees around them grew, curved, until they blocked out the sunlight. Isla was plunged into near-darkness.
Vines slithered around her like snakes. They curled around her body, pinning her down to the ground. Her head hit the solid dirt.
A growl escaped her lips as she fought their hold, as she fought to command these woods the way she was supposed to be able to, as the Wildling ruler.
But the woods obeyed Terra, not Isla. She could hear her guardian’s voice right above her.
“You will be fighting againstpower, foolish girl. And power is not merciful at all.”
With that, the forest fell upon her.
Isla gasped as wood cut through her bones, skewering her to the forest floor. As leaves smothered her screams. As her own realm became a weapon against her.
She wished desperately she was the one who could wield it. That she was not pinned here, powerless. Bleeding everywhere. Gasping with hurt. But Terra was right. She was weak. Useless.
It might have been minutes or hours later when Poppy’s voice broke through the pain. “What did you do?” she demanded. She had never heard her guardian so outraged. “You could have killed her! You could have killed us all.”
She heard Terra’s huff of a laugh. “Do you think I’m that unskilled, Poppy?”
No. Terra had mastered Wilding abilities, and she had ensured the trees had only pierced Isla’s limbs. Painful—but not enough to kill her. Not anything the elixirs couldn’t undo. “I think you’re cruel,” she said. “She...she would never have wanted this.”
She. They were talking about her mother. The blood loss was dragging her under. She fought for consciousness, if only to hear more. But she was slipping away, carried off by the endless agony in her bones.
“If she was here, we wouldn’t be dealing with this,” Terra said, her voice sharp with emotion. “We loved her. And she betrayed us...she betrayed us all.”
Isla knew that part of the story. The cautionary tale of her mother falling in love, despite the curse, leading to both her parents’ deaths. It had happened the day Isla was born.
This story was a warning against love. It proved love was ruinous, especially for rulers. A message her guardians seemed especially eager to make clear, given Isla didn’t suffer from her realm’s curse.
