“Just. Stop. Talking.”
“But—”
“Give me the crossbow,” Father commanded coldly, holding out his hand.
For I had already aimed the next bolt at Mother’s heart.
“Get up,” I said shakily to my mother, defiant. “You’re both going to walk to the cellar and wait there until the Light Bringer can assess you. It’s protocol.”
“Give me the crossbow, Esmer,” Father commanded again. The hint of somethingotherlingered in the underbelly of his words, making my skin crawl. “You don’t know what you’re doing.”
“If you don’t start moving, I will shoot this bolt through her heart. I won’t let her demon hurt Elliot again.”
“You’re—”
“I’ll do it!” I screamed, switching my aim from her heart to Father’s. “Gonow!”
My hands shook violently as I directed them into the cellar, its weathered entrance like the dark, gaping maw of some terrible beast. I ignored the wildflowers that peeked through the stone and shouldered the door shut behind them, quickly wrapping chains over the lock to secure it firmly in place.
Elliot, hysterical, ran to the village to get help, and I dropped to my knees, retching into the grass.
Dawn was hours away, and the stars should have been bright and sparkling.
But darkness, leaking in through the trees, swallowed them all.
For the second time that night, elixir sat sour and wrong on my tongue.
Sleep taunted me, toyed with me, wrapped its hands around my eyes andcalledto me; still, I couldn’t settle. Unease descended in a horrible black cloud, splintering my mind into pieces. Several villagers stood watch over the cellar, ensuring that my parents would remain in place until morning. I should have been sleeping. Resting. Getting my energy back so I could continue protecting Elliot.
I shuddered and sat up, again reaching for the elixir vial. I would take a longer drink and count backward from a thousand. A hundred thousand, even. I would bar Mother’s demon-infested body and Isaac’s leaking eyes from my mind. But when the glass grazed my lips, only a small rivulet of liquid trickled out.
I stared in disbelief at the empty vial.
Disgusted with myself, I stormed downstairs to our family’s personal elixir reserve. I didn’t have a choice; if the tonic wasn’t taken immediately before sleep, my soul might drift into the realm of demons. But this was another reason the average family—the averageperson, even—struggled to maintain an elixir supply. A stomach tight with hunger,fear, or discontent made sleep difficult, but most couldn’t afford to waste more than one or two mouthfuls per day.
I searched the dark recesses of our kitchen shelves, expecting to graze the smooth glass of elixir vials, but I felt nothing but dust and shadows.
Norhavellis’s remaining supply, tucked away in our makeshift apothecary, silently beckoned.
Darkness pushed into the apothecary, bloating the walls with thick shadow, and plants cascaded from the ceiling, pressing against curtain-drawn windows. They felt serpentine, more akin to slimy, writhing beasts than harmless vegetation. I quickly searched for a spare vial, ignoring the sensation that something was watching me, lurking just beyond my vision. Once I found what I was looking for—a small portion of elixir, suitable for a few mouthfuls—I hurried upstairs, drank from the vial, and settled under my blankets, fully prepared for an unremarkable night of demon-free sleep.
But before I knew it, I was dreaming.
No—falling.
My body hurtled down a dark abyss as I succumbed to sleep, limbs flailing.
Then I slammed into a hill, unable to stop sliding. My hands clenched around wet, slimy things. Cold mud. Decaying leaves. I was a doll, a stone—useless,useless—slamming into branches and the sharp undersides of tree roots. By the time I stopped moving, I didn’t recognize the gasping, pitiful breaths that stumbled out of me.
Slowly, I opened my eyes.
Trees swayed overhead, glistening softly in the twilight. Still reeling, I absently noted the wet soil between my fingers. The papery leaves as they pressed against the back of my head. I sat up, gently stretching out my joints. I must have been delivering elixir parcels with Mother and Father. I must have fallen from the cart as we made our rounds. Yes, that was it.They must be so worried.
Entirely forgetting I was in a dream, I noticed the whisper of amelody—the only indication of any life beyond trees, mud, and a rapidly darkening sky. The song was beautiful—simple and carefree. It reminded me of a day when Eden and I were finally allowed to go into Norhavellis by ourselves. We were on a mission to collect a certain herb, but the job itself didn’t matter. We spent that whole morning pretending to be warriors, sparring with branches and dancing through the tall grass as if nothing could ever hurt us. I sang along to the tune, making up words as I went. Time lost itself as I walked, but I continued to sing, deep in my thoughts and my made-up song, until I heard the crunch of quick footsteps moving through the leaves. I had only an instant to grab a fallen branch to use as a weapon, its tip curved and sharp.
A group of masked men materialized from the brush, covered in oily fur and the stench of unwashed flesh. They slunk around me, silent except for muffled panting. Saliva oozed from between their cracked lips, sliding into their fur. Their costumes were terrifyingly intricate; there were no seams in the material.
Performers from Istralla, then.
