“Go Asha!” Ryder snaps, breaking the trance the creeping dark had wrapped around me.
My breath stutters. I spin and run up the drawbridge, Nala and River pounding close behind.
Our heart beats control our feet, pushing us in a frantic, shared rhythm. If we can just get on this boat— if we can just getaway—maybe we’ll survive this thing.
My stomach tumbles with each step. I can’t stop looking back.
The darkness is gaining.
Ryder ascends the drawbridge backwards, sword drawn, glaring into the distance as the shadows tear apart the trees. The light catches his blade, making it seem ablaze, the power rippling off its silver, alive and dangerous.
I run harder, lungs burning, thighs screaming, eyes fixed on Ryder’s silhouette—so fixed I dont even realise I’ve reached the top until I collide with fabric and muscle.
“Payment.”
The ferryman lifts a cloaked hand; slow, deliberate.
Panic splutters through me. I scramble through my pockets… I have nothing. No silver. No coins. Not even scraps.
“I-I dont have any money,” I choke out, heart thrashing against my ribs.
“Please, you have to let us on—something is coming.” Nala pleads, her eyes flicking from the tree line to the ferryman.
“Payment.” He repeats, voice creaking like dried branches. Not a tremble claims his lips as he glances at the shadows gaining. His throat sounds dry enough to crumble.
Ryder staggers to the front, impatience and fear twisting together across his face. “Fine. What’s the toll? Silver? Food? My last shred of sanity? Just tell me before that thing kills us all.”
The ferryman’s eyes are a dull, foggy silver; they settle on me and linger too long.
“Not coin. Not goods.”
He pauses, and the cold around us seems to thicken.
“A Memory Slip.”
My breath catches like a hook pulling in my chest. A Deceiver, of all things. We may as well take our chances with that creature.
“A memory?” I ask, and the word tastes heavier than it should.
He nods once. “Something you value. A piece of your truth.”
Instantly, my mind flickers through the memories I’ve tried to bury: Ryder’s hands around my neck, The General’s prophecy, the mountain collapsing.
Perhaps losing one would ease the weight, but which one could I afford to lose?
Ryder steps in front of me before I can decide, jaw locking. “No. Absolutely not.”
“Ryder, it’s fine,” I argue, but the darkness has spread like wildfire, swallowing the sand and trunk alike.
In the distance, claws of shadow unfurl around each tree, spidering in our direction.
Then the creature emerges—sludge made flesh. Oozing. Dripping. It scrapes through the woods with unnatural grace, crashing through the branches as if bones mean nothing to it. It snarls running on all fours like a twisted wolf, the grimedragging behind it like a leash made of rot, though it does not hold it back, nor does it look obedient.
“No,” Ryder snaps, dropping my hand. “You’ve already given up enough.”
The ferryman tilts his head towards me, his movements jerky and mechanical, like a puppet controlled by invisible strings, before dragging his hollow gaze to Ryder.
“Then perhapsyouwould offer instead?”
