The wood lies shrouded in absolute silence. Beautiful but alarming. Occasionally, the flutter of wings rustles high in the trees, a caw creeps from a nest, or the distant cry of a white wolf howls through the wood. I can’t shake the sense of being watched or followed, so I keep an eye on the path at our backs. It’s all part of the construct, Alexus says, meant for confusion, deception, and fear. Like the darkness when we first entered the tunnel. Like the lake.
Mission accomplished, Witch Walkers.
Teeth chattering, I hold onto Hel’s waist, crushing our bodies together as we ride. Heat is a precious thing, and I cling to any I can find. It’s difficult, though. Her putrid odor stings my nostrils, making me wonder if I’m imagining the smell.
From Mannus’s back, Alexus glances at us, pressing his knuckles beneath his nose before letting out a rough cough that’s more like a gag. It isn’t just me.
We keep riding. I force my eyes to remain open, searching for any sign of a place we might shelter. But no matter how far we travel, there are only tangled, thick trees rising high into the sky on either side of the winding path.
Eventually, I give in and close my eyes, resting my head on Hel’s shoulder. I’m so terribly frigid, down to the iced marrow in my bones, that I’m uncertain if I’ll wake up should I fall asleep.
My thoughts drift to Nephele.
Tuetha tah, if you can hear me, help us. Bring us through this wood, bring us to Winterhold. Please do not let me die here.
I repeat the words in my mind like a song. What else can I do to make her hear me? This construct is so far beyond my comprehension. No strands hang in the ether or even within my mind’s grasp. The inner workings of this magick are hidden away, making it impossible to reach out to her by simply plucking a few threads.
More time passes, perhaps an hour or two. It’s so hard to stay awake, so every now and then, I mentally recite my plea to my sister. Having a task, even if only in my mind, helps me keep from giving in. Sleep seems like such a comfort. Such relief.
I close my eyes, and for too long, they stay closed.
A face fades into my mind’s eye, on the edge of a dream. Once handsome, the face now bears a gaping slash.
The Prince of the East stares at me, eyes narrowed in curious study. Nothing lies beyond him, only a scarlet halo of swirling shadows.
The carved corners of his mouth turn in a deep scowl. “Hello, Keeper,” he says. “I see you.”
I jerk awake, heart racing, and blink away the sight of him. Gods, that felt so real, just like when the gaunt man appeared to me at the boundary. The prince’s voice, though. It was so clear.
But it was just a dream. Wasn’t it?
I swallow hard, remembering something faint. Something distant. The prince called meKeeperafter I cut him open. Surely dreaming of him is only my mind conjuring that same moment, reshaping it into a new torture.
A long sigh pushes out of me, leaving a frozen breath cloud hanging in my wake. It’s snowing so hard that I can barely see the pale light of the lamp, and the horses are moving with such labored steps.
Unaware, I’ve tightened my arms around Hel’s waist like a vise, so I loosen my hold. Hel doesn’t seem to notice. She doesn’t shake like me either, and her shoulders aren’t slumped from my weight. Somehow, she’s unaffected by the cold and long hours of traveling, and her body is so very warm. It must be the gambeson.
I sit up straighter to give her some relief and press the sign forAll right?into her thigh. She barely flinches and makes no reply.
It’s just the cold, I tell myself. The kind of cold that makes teeth feel like they might shatter and renders the skin and brain too numb to comprehend something like the pressure of a sign.
“There’s a path cleared ahead,” Alexus calls. “We’re bedding down. It’s getting impossible to see.”
Bedding down sounds impossible. In this snowstorm? And what would’ve made a path large enough for Alexus to see his way through the wood?
Hel agrees, her sigh sounding more like a hiss. But soon, we’re leading the horses off the path into the trees, Alexus leading the way with his dim light.
I glance over Hel’s shoulder, worried about the horses making it through the deep drifts. All that’s visible ahead is a gray haze and packed snow, like more horses have already trodden this ground, which doesn’t ease my worries. Nothing about this scenario is wise, and I want to say so, but what good would it do? It isn’t like we can turn back and go home.
Alexus draws Mannus to a halt, and the soft circle of lamp light moves toward Hel and me. When I can finally make out Alexus’s face, it’s like he’s been painted in the tones of the night, all color leached by the cold.
He looks at Hel and holds his lamp high. His dark hair whips in the snowy wind. “You have fire magick, yes?”
She bristles, and after a moment, says, “I’m not good at fire magick.”
Alexus arches his brow. “You don’t have to be good. I just need you to help me get a fire going.” He looks at me and jerks his chin toward Mannus. “There’s a rocky overhang over there. I’m hoping this is Nephele’s doing.”
He walks away, and Hel huffs.
