“The pain,” River retches again. “h-his pain. I can feel it.”
Both boys wince as though a blade has struck straight through their skulls. This isn’t the first time indigo has reclaimed the dark whirl in Ryder’s eyes since the mountain, but itisthe first time he’s reacted like this—like the serum is clawing at him from the inside out.
For a heartbeat, I’m torn between them, frozen by the impossible choice of who to comfort first. Nala rushes to River’s side, and I take a hesitant step toward Ryder—but he lifts a hand, urging me back.
“Stop.” He warns, keeping me at arm’s length.
“Ryder?” My voice catches, each breath pinching my lungs, but he breaks away, clutching his head as if he can drown out the pain.
“What’s happening?” I ask, trembling, my heart lurching against my ribs.
“The serum,” Ryder says between ragged breaths. “I’m fighting it.”
“W-what can I do?” Panic thins my voice. I glance at Nala, who mirrors my fear.
“You can leave me alone.” His tone is cold, final, though the pain has eased its grip on his face. “I told you this was a bad idea. You mess with my emotions—” He swallows hard. “It’s too dangerous.I’mtoo dangerous. I need you to keep your distance.” His words cut me, and I know his throat pinches tighter with every word, each syllable a regret.
“How am I supposed to keep my distance? We’re stuck in the Hollow together.”
“I don’t care,” Ryder snaps, pushing himself to his feet and stalking a few steps away. “Figure it out.”
I move to follow, but Nala’s hand closes around my arm, holding me back.
“Just give him some space,” she murmurs.
Every instinct in me screams to chase him anyway.
River straightens, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Fuck this twin bond,” he growls, spitting into the grass.
The air feels thinner the deeper we go, and the cracks in the canopy are next to none. If the sun came up now, at its weakened state, I don’t know if we’d know about it. Though the light can’t pierce through its cracks, everything is still visible. I can’t tell if it’s my eyes finally adjusting, or if the Hollow has its own kind of light—one that only reflects in shades of deep blues and muted greens, as if the darkness itself learned how to glow.
I haven’t spoken to Ryder since he told me to stay away, and the tension is still thick amidst the group. Every time I look athim, my chest feels like it’s being carved out, and the ground is being swiped from under me.
He’s right—heisdangerous.
But he was dangerous long before the serum seeped into his bones, and I accepted that. I don’t know what terrifies me more: the memory of his hands around my neck, or the thought of losing him all over again.
The twisted trees make eyes at me, every gnarled limb stretched out and beckoning us further into the Hollow. Some resemble figures more than I would care to admit, their indents and marks likening to sunken, tormented faces that seem to be frozen mid-scream, and it’s hard to work out what’s a real threat and what is my eyes just playing tricks on me.
“Think you can help me move this?” Ryder asks, his eyes flicking only to River as he gestures at the fallen tree blocking our way. So this is what it’s going to be now. I might as well not even be here.
The two of them combine their strength to shift the trunk. Ryder barely strains—I guess he doesn’t have to, not with the serpent strength running through that arm. It’s funny, if the Hollow hadn’t swallowed our Gifts whole, River could have Influenced it out of the way with a single thought.
We keep walking until River missteps and suddenly drops out of sight, falling into some kind of hole. My heart dives with him.
“Are you okay?” I call, hurrying to the edge, the rest of my group at my side. Peering down, I see him sitting on the mud, looking more startled than hurt. When he stands, I realise the hole isn’t actually that deep.
“Shit! I did not see that there.” River exclaims from the dip, his fingers disturbing the strands in his mousy blonde hair. Ryder extends his hand, the veins in his arm pulsing lightly as he pulls River up.
The hole… It’s strange—too clean, too deliberate—and beside it is another, and another. There must be a hundred of them. Not too wide, and not too deep. I step over to the one that mirrors it, crouching to examine it more closely. Each one sits a sensible distance from the next, spaced with precision, as if they were created in perfect tandem with one another.
Then my heart stops.
“What are they?” Nala asks, following my glare.
“I think they’re tracks,” I state, my mouth going dry at the realisation.
A heavy silence follows.
