“I’ve never ventured out this far,” I answered, bristling. “It does feel like we’re circling something, though. I think we’re close.”
“I knew it,” Mila said with a groan. Then she whispered to Silas, her voice conspiratorial, “The cross, the chip in the corner—it’s the same rock we saw yesterday. What do you suppose she’s getting at?”
“Save for finding the tomb, she’s not getting at anything,” Silassnapped, his mouth tight with exasperation. “And what makes you thinkyoucan spot the difference between one chipped stone and another, especially from a distance? They’re rocks, Mila.”
“Because I’m not spotting differences. It’s where they’re similar that matters,” she retorted. They turned to each other, continuing to bicker.
Elliot tapped my elbow. It was hard to believe he was only ten; the past few days had simultaneously aged and depleted him. Though he was in clean clothes—the Light Legion had been considerate enough to pack a small trunk of belongings for the both of us—his brown eyes were dull and his mouth, usually quirked up in a grin, was in an emotionless line.
“I believe you, Esmer,” he whispered. “I know you can do it.”
Don’t cry.
“Thanks, Elliot,” I said, giving his hair a gentle tousle. Fortunately, the Light Bringer had decided to do away with my bindings shortly after I’d launched our hunt for the Shadow Bringer’s tomb. “How are you feeling?”
“I miss Mother and Father.”
I bit the inside of my cheek.Don’t cry.“I miss them, too.”
“I miss home. How it used to be. I thought I’d be happy to leave, but I’m not happy at all. And you know what?”
“What?”
“I wish we’d said goodbye. I wish we hadn’t turned our backs on them and walked away.”
A strangled, devastated sound tumbled out of me. I quickly clamped a hand over my mouth, hoping the legionnaires hadn’t heard. “I know,” I whispered, on the verge of tears. “But we can’t change the past. Mother and Father are at peace with the Maker. We need to look ahead to the future.”
He nodded, chin quivering. “It’s hard.”
“I know it is. But soon the Shadow Bringer won’t be able to hurt us anymore. The Light Bringer is going to destroy him once and for all.”
As if the Shadow Bringer heard me speak his name, I felt a long,insistent pull in the back of my mind. Suddenly, I could feel him everywhere: sliding over the ground, whispering through the trees, rushing through our hair, and tangling in our clothes. His shadows—or were theyourshadows now?—sat layered on top of nature’s shadows, but they slowly crept out from their hiding spots, clearly beckoning me toward a deeper part of the Visstill.
Mithras caught my eye and raised his fist in a victorious gesture; heknew.
“Light Legion,” Mithras began, projecting his voice over the traveling party as he drew me to his side. “We are nearly there. This tomb may contain the Shadow Bringer’s monstrous body, but soon it will merely be a husk. We will slay the enemy. We will rise victorious and destroy Corruption once and for all.”
The shadows beckoned me toward a nearby hill, so we walked single file down it. My boots stuck into the hillside as we descended, squishing and pulling against mud from a recent rainstorm. Leaves were strewn everywhere, and the early-evening air began to chill, forcing the hair on my neck and arms to rise.
He’s close.
As if on cue, a dark, towering structure emerged before us, shrouded by a copse of ancient, clawing trees. It was difficult to tell how large the Tomb of the Devourer was; its body, which sat behind an entrance so dark it seemed partially open, was dug into the innards of a hill, obscuring its size. And the light seemed dimmer here—the air heavier, colder. A slow-moving mist clung to the damp earth, threading out from the shadows and clinging to the tomb’s vine-covered walls.
I fell into silence along with the legionnaires, squeezing Elliot’s hand.
The Light Bringer, mask affixed and sword drawn, approached the entrance. At first, he said nothing. Then he murmured, so softly that it sounded like a shift in the wind, a crunch of someone’s boot against the leaves, “May he rot.”
“My lord? The tomb—” Silas began.
“May herot,” Mithras repeated, louder, stronger.
Rage and hunger burned in the Light Bringer’s golden eyes, spilling over his taut, too-stiff body and trembling in his clenched fists. It trickled from the dust still floating from his hands. Without warning, he tore his mask from his face and hurled it into a nearby tree. It sank sharply into the bark, narrowly missing one of his legionnaires. The legionnaires flinched, some taking a step or two back into the forest.
“What do you use your eyes for?” Mithras asked this question to the nearest legionnaire, but it was clearly directed at all of them. “For what do we use our senses? Our senses of taste, touch? Of scent and sound?”
“I use m-my eyes to see, m-my lord,” the man stuttered. His skin shone with sweat. “I use all m-my senses to serve the Light Legion. I use them for you, my lord.”
“And what of the rest of you? Can you sense the darkness?”
