Farris scooted in behind us to keep up, his tail between his legs.
The road stretched out ahead. As we walked along it, gravel shifted beneath our boots. Dorion fell back, pretending he was tired but to keep an eye on our flank.
Above, the castle loomed, its towers jagged and less ornamental than Evergorne’s. Though the walls shimmered, they looked stark. Cold. Terrifying, actually.
This was no sanctuary. It was a trap, and we were walking straight into it.
As we approached the castle gates, they swung open with a grinding shriek.
No guards appeared. Just yawning darkness and the sound of our footsteps echoing off stone.
The grief wraiths had been the beginning, but now the real test was about to begin.
Somewhere in the darkness, Prager was waiting, and I was confident she’d have something special planned.
The silence felt hungry.
Like it was feeding on our footsteps, our breath, our fear.
Chapter 17
Lore
The packed gravel road wound around the steep hill, twisting like a serpent. Narrow and uneven, it was hemmed in by a dense tangle of stubby trees that appeared almost starved. Mist slithered along the ground, and even though it was early evening, the world had dimmed to twilight. We maintained a steady pace, none of us trusting the slope on our left side or the silence that came with it.
Someone would pay for that statue. The grief wraith had dared wear my mother's face, carved in stone in tormenting detail.
It wasn't her. I'd lit her funeral pyre myself, watched the flames consume her body. But whoever had crafted this place knew exactly how to twist the knife.
Had someone left it for us?
Just in case, I’d hold our ward high and watch everyone. One snap in our direction, and they’d feel the weight of my power and my blades.
Farris padded beside Reyla, his ears pinned back and his taillow, the tips of his fur twitching with each snap from the vegetation beyond the edge of the path. He didn’t growl, but he didn’t relax either.
“We’re being funneled,” Dorion hissed from behind us.
He wasn’t wrong. The steep drop-off on our left would keep anyone from taking that route, and the trees on the right side had been planted in a thick mesh, and were the kind you’d find near swamplands or cliffs, their trunks white as bone and streaked with lichen. Vines clung to the bark, and their branches spiked overhead thickly enough to blot out what was left of the twilight sun. Light filtered in patches, silver, thin, and cold.
Reyla glanced over her shoulder.
If something comes at us,she said in my mind.We’ll only have only a few moments to respond.
No cover.This walk would not forgive missteps.
Ice daggers erupted from the mist, whistling past our heads. I threw up a shield, deflecting the worst of them, but one shard sliced across my cheek before I could duck to the side.
The trees on the right groaned and swayed, though no wind stirred the air. Branches twisted downward, reaching for us with gnarled fingers.
“Move,” I shouted, grabbing Reyla's hand.
We sprinted up the path as the forest came alive. Vines lashed out from the undergrowth. Roots erupted from the ground, trying to trip us.
Behind us, Dorion cursed as he sent a stream of fire at a branch that had wrapped around his ankle.
As suddenly as it began, the attack stopped. The trees settled back into their unnatural stillness. The mist swirled innocently around our feet.
But the taste of hostile magic lingered in the air.
