Something moved ahead of me. A shadow darker than my surroundings.
A shape that slipped between the trees, tall and narrow, just beyond the reach of the dim light filtering through the canopy. My heart leapt painfully into my throat as I broke into a runagain, every rational thought drowning beneath the desperate need to reach him.
“Atlas,” I gasped, stumbling forward. “I’m here. I’m coming.” The figure moved faster, gliding ahead of me, always just out of reach. Panic flared, sharp and bright, fear of being too late clawing at my chest.
“Wait,” I cried, voice cracking. “Please, just wait.”
I didn’t see the ground give way beneath my foot until it was too late. I went down hard, pain flaring through my knees and palms as I hit the earth, breath knocked from my lungs in a sharp, helpless gasp. For a moment, I stayed there, stunned, chest heaving as I sucked in air that tasted of rot and damp stone. I felt the cuts on my knees stinging, making me hiss when I pushed myself up. My hands came away slick.
I stared down at them, heart stuttering.
The earth beneath me was alive with remains, fragments of bone and fabric ground together into the soil. With a sick lurch, I realized there were fingers too, curled and broken, tangled in roots and maggots that fed greedily on what was left.
A sound brushed past my ear.
“Alex, I'm here!”
I spun toward it, heart slamming violently, and I got to my feet, nearly losing my footing again.
Nothing.
The forest stood silent, watching.
A cold realization settled over me then. I wasn’t following him anymore.
I was being led.
My breath hitched as I took a step back, then another, dread finally breaking through the fog of hope that had driven me this far.
“No,” I whispered, shaking my head.“No, this isn’t real.”
A soft glow caught my eye.
Ahead, nestled between the roots of a massive, twisted tree, something pulsed gently, casting emerald light across the ground. Recognition slammed into me so hard it stole my breath.
The plant.
The same one from the Labyrinth, its fungal growth curling delicately around itself, veins of green light threading through translucent flesh. Medicinal, Aster had said. Used to still the body. To knock people unconscious. But for me, it would most likely be deadly.
“No,” I breathed, backing away as my eyes shot from one green glow to another. They were growing clusters at tree roots, next to bushes, clinging to fallen logs.
They were everywhere.
I turned suddenly, and for half a heartbeat, I wondered if the horror on my face was painted in a green hue as I screamed stupidly the second the poisonous dust was blown in my face. The cloud of luminous green powder was one I inhaled before I could stop myself. The taste was bitter and metallic as it burned down my throat and into my lungs.
I coughed violently, staggering back, my vision already starting to blur as the forest tilted sickeningly around me. My limbs grew heavy, sluggish, as though gravity itself had doubled its hold.
Strong arms caught me before I could hit the ground.
I struggled weakly, panic screaming through me as my body refused to obey. My muscles betrayed me, but my mind stayed clear, painfully lucid, as I was effortlessly lifted and carried deeper into the woods.
This wasn’t Theron’s doing.
The realization crashed down on me with brutal clarity.
The watchers. The feeling of being followed. The sense of unseen eyes from the moment we stepped through the Rift. Theyhad been waiting, biding their time until I was foolish enough to walk into the dark alone.
My vision swam, edges warping, but consciousness clung stubbornly, the drug behaving differently in my veins than it should have. I could feel everything. The sway of movement. The press of arms around me. The wrongness of it all.
