Marina watches stoically as I climb into the carriage. She makes a motion for speaking and then gestures to the carriage, which I understand to meantell it where you want to go.Then she closes the door.
“Away,” I tell the carriage, a furious mixture of relief and regret raging in the pit of my stomach. It doesn’t matter where my final destination is, as I’ll need to ditch the carriage long before then anyway. I don’t want the king tracking my location with it.
Settling onto the satin seat, I try to breathe through the panic climbing my throat as the carriage lurches forward. As Marina steps back to allow my retreat, her face still twisted in the same vague frown.You’re leaving her to her death, just like you always do. You left Celie. You left Zenni. You left them all.
Selfish to the very core.
Guilt wrenches my stomach and shame barrels down my throat, making it suddenly hard to swallow. For a wild moment, I consider screaming at the carriage to stop. Consider turning back to drag Marina inside, even if I have to knock her out and tie her up. To do anything but what I always do—run.
But in the same breath where my guilt lives, so does memory. Of my blood dripping onto concrete floors. Of the burn of acid on my skin. The cold sting of a scalpel. The raw ache of my throat, ragged and raw with my unending screams.
I lean back into the seat, curling up the softer parts of me—the parts that existed before those memories—and shoving them into the recesses of my soul. I won’t be sacrificed on someone else’s altar again.
Marina is on her own.
As the carriage rolls smoothly over the palace grounds, I half expect the entire Lunaedon to come alive. For the ground to rise up and ensnare the wheels, trapping me irrevocably inside it. But we pass through the gates without incident. There's no sign of the Carrion King’s haunting face, nor his malevolent power.
I lean into the seat, the soft fabric soothing beneath my palms. My breathing evens and the Lunaedon grows smaller on the horizon, before disappearing from view entirely as the carriage travels deeper into the forest.
I debate whether I should head to the city and find a place to hide there while I figure out my options of returning home. People think the best way to disappear is somewhere remote, but they’re wrong. New things stand out too much in rural areas; it’sbetter to go somewhere bustling, where they’re used to ignoring things on a daily basis.
But based on what I’d overheard at the Pixie’s Hollow, the king has plenty of eyes in the city. I have no way of knowing how far they stretch.
I consider finding Adira, but the idea dies before its even fully formed—I don’t know where she lives. And though she says she has no loyalty to the king, she also has no loyalty to me, which means she could just as easily sell me back to Niko if the circumstances were favorable.
Which leaves me one choice. Retracing my steps and trying to find the way back to my world the way I came.
The lagoon.
“Stop.” At my command, the carriage halts so abruptly, I nearly tumble face first into the doorway. Hastily righting myself with a huff, I shove the door open and climb down the steps.
The forest buzzes around me, the sound so much more alivethan the Lunaedon grounds. The hushed rustle of leaves, the warble of birds, the whir of insect wings—it all fills my ears, and I immediately feel calmer despite the clear oddities. It should be near impossible to see at this hour, but overhead, thousands of tiny lights flit between the branches. Some float lazily in groups, while others zip from tree to tree, illuminating the canopy.
And they aren’t the only light source. Moss glows on the trunks of the trees, an iridescent blue reminiscent of the color splashed across the night sky. Flowering vines crawl over the forest floor, their small blooms shimmering cheerfully, as if twinkling in answer to the floating lights above.
The earth is spongy beneath my feet, the dampness soaking through my silk slippers after only a few minutes. I scowl and yank them off, hurtling them at the nearest tree with far too much relish. Going barefoot isn’t ideal, but neither is getting a blister from those stupid shoes.
I leave the carriage behind, ducking off the small forest path. I’d been bound and blinded when I was taken from the beach, so I can’t be sure I’m heading in the right direction, but the lagoon was visible from the Lunaedon windows. It can’t be far.
The walk is arduous, my progress hindered by the thick undergrowth carpeting the forest floor, but with each step, my fear ebbs a bit more—and this time, it has nothing to do with Sam’s magic. I hadn’t realized how deeply being restricted to the castle had burrowed into me, twisting me bit by bit into the animal I’d become all those years ago in the Amelioration camps. As I move deeper into the wood, my muscles unfreeze, and my lungs expand in my chest without limitation.
You’re not caged. You’re free.
I repeat it to myself until I believe it, purposefully shoving away images of why my freedom matters so much. Of why I’m so willing to sacrifice everyone else to keep it.
Instead of ruminating any further, I focus on moving forward without disturbing any of the forest life. If my short time in Letum has taught me anything, it’s that nothing is entirely harmless here, despite its inherent beauty.
I can tell I’m getting closer to the beach when the beautiful flowers I’d seen on my first night begin to appear in the depths of the shadows. Electric blues and violets so vibrant, their glow is as pervasive as the stars above. Yellows and oranges so creamy and lush, their spread petals shine like rays of sun. A pang of regret echoes through me that I have to leave Letum so soon. If it weren’t for the king, I’d stay a little longer, if only to enjoy the dark beauty of the kingdom.
To try and imprint it permanently to memory before I go back to a world devoid of anything artful.
The king’s words drift through my mind.Our worlds are more intertwined than you realize. A death of imagination.
And you, Willa Darling…you’re going to save them both.
The Corpse King may be right about the cause of the plague, but he’s wrong about who’s capable of saving our worlds, no matter how fiercely he believes it to be true. I failed long before I ever stumbled into Letum, and a random connection to some fairy tale isn’t going to change that.
The flowers grow thicker around my calves, and I move faster, certain I’m getting close to the beach, when a scream rents through the night and halts me in place. The skin on the back of my neck prickles as another pierces the pleasant hum of the forest, this one seeming to circle around my head and burrow in my ears. The call is harrowing but melodic, the sound of it burying a leash beneath my ribs and yanking me toward it.
