How could they?
Here, the shadows don’t just hide things—
They feast on power, too.
“Let’s just set up camp here for the night. We’ll make a plan in the morning.” Ryder says, and part of me knows he is right. Though the thought of stopping now against the clock just feels wrong, like I’m betraying Ryder and kneeling to the serum in his veins. I agree; nonetheless, my feet are aching for a break from carrying me.
Ryder’s survival training has come in handy; somehow, in this suffocating fog where everything feels damp and choking, he still managed to sift through the murk and find dry twigs and moss for kindling. I watch him work, a silhouette in the dark—quick, efficient, too calm for a place that feels like it’s swallowing us whole.
For a man who wields shadows like they’re an extension of his own limbs, I never imagined he could command something asaliveas fire. But with a few precise movements—sticks scraped together in a rhythm that feels almost ritualistic—the sparks catch.
And then the flames bloom.
They rise fast, hungrily licking up the kindling, pushing back the dark in shuddering waves. The fog recoils, as if the fire is something it forgot could exist. Warmth brushes my cheeks, and for the first time since entering this nightmare, I can breathe without tasting cold rot. Now that the flames are conquering the dark, the forest doesn’t seem quite as suffocating.
The shadows peel back just enough for shapes to reappear—trees, roots, patches of earth I couldn’t see before. Dry ground appears in uneven islands amidst the mud and waterlogged soil, and we gather on those small havens like shipwreck survivors clinging to driftwood.
The air is still cold, still watchful, but at least the dark no longer feels close enough to breathe down our necks.
Nala and River lie propped against a tree, her head resting on his shoulder, a soft snore drifting from her lips. That girl could sleep on a bed of knives and still look peaceful. I, on the other hand, can’t seem to quiet my mind long enough to pretend. My thoughts spiral in tightening circles, all of them landing in the same place.
Ryder.
And the fear that he might leave me if we don’t find the gem.
The idea gnaws at me, sharp and relentless. I know it’ll follow me into sleep, twist itself into nightmares—hands at my throat, his hands, the memory of that moment replaying like a curse.
Ryder isn’t sleeping either.
He sits a little way off, staring into the fire as if it’s the only thing keeping him tethered.
Leaves rustle beneath me as I quietly stand and make my way over to him. He lifts his head for a moment, acknowledging my movements and then pats the ground beside him. I take a seat as he wraps his arm around my shoulders; the warmth of his body comforting me.
“You should go back to sleep,” He whispers into the cool air, his eyes stuck on a needle of moonlight peeping through the awning.
“I can’t sleep.” I simply say, leaning into him so our heads touch.
“Me neither,” he says, his hand still firm on the sword beside him. The wind howls as it brushes through the broken canopy above us, and I feel Ryder tense briefly.
“Do you think we’re safe here?”
“I don’t know, this forest never sleeps. I know that’s for certain.” He says, and I know he’s right, ever since we arrived here, there is an unnerving feeling that we are being watched, the darkness rippling behind us like second shadows.
An eerie silence surrounds us as we gaze up at the patchwork of leaves above us. The only constant at the moment. “Do you think she’s out there… Oriah?” I ask, breaking the silence whilst watching the timid light shy away from this place.
“She better be dead.” He replies coldly, his voice flat and serious.
“Huh?” His sudden change of nature catches me off guard, but I am no stranger to Ryder’s mood swings.
“That’s the only reason I would forgive her for leaving us like this, with no explanation.” I watch as his knuckles tighten on the embroidered handle of his sword. His words work at penetrating my skin, but the little invisible armour I have left saves me from the hurt. She couldn’t possibly be dead. Could she?
I sit up and stare at him, his head raising slightly to meet my gaze.
“She’ll have a reason,” I snap, and I can tell that he knows he has touched a nerve.
“And if she doesn’t?” He questions. “What if we find out she’s just left our world to die, running from thatthing,to start over somewhere new with the rest of the Gods?” His tone is calm but sharp at the same time, and his teeth grit at the mention of the Gods.
I hadn’t thought about that.
