I struggle against the chain, pulling desperately against the collar at my throat that chokes and burns.
I kick, and I scream, and I beg.
The hands relent—only to wrap around my throat.
“Look at me.”
I wake in a cold sweat, choking on a ragged scream. My heart is pounding so hard it feels like it might burst through my ribs. For a moment, I’m still there—on the marble floor, the blade dragging across my skin, the collar choking me. My hands fly to my neck, clawing at the phantom pain, until the sharp sting of my nails breaking skin pulls me back. There’s no collar. No blade. Just the suffocating darkness of the homestead and the sound of my ragged breaths.
It was a nightmare. I’m safe now.
No matter how many times I repeat the words in my mind, my panic doesn’t subside.
The fire has died, and the darkness that I welcomed earlier is now oppressive and disorienting as it wraps around me. Reality and memorycollide, and I can’t drag myself from the windowless prison in my mind into the night-painted present.
I kick away the blanket tangled around my legs and push myself up. Barely waiting for my eyes to adjust to the dim light, I frantically dodge the sleeping shapes of the others, tearing my way toward the front door.
I’m vaguely aware of the cold night air slamming into me as my knees hit the dirt. Tremors wrack my body as I bend forward and retch, my stomach spasming violently despite having nothing to purge.
When the convulsions finally pass, I collapse against the doorframe, tipping my head back against the rotting wood and squeezing my eyes shut. I steady my shaky breaths, battling the fear that wraps around me like a suffocating web. I focus intently—inhale, hold, release—counting to three with each cycle, willing calm to take hold.
When my breathing finally stabilizes and the tremors subside, I open my eyes.
Moonlight leaks through the canopy of clouds above, illuminating the tall grass swaying in the wind. The icy air freezes the tears as they track down my face. I let them fall, digging my fingers into the dirt beneath me, relishing the sting of the cold and the grit beneath my fingernails.
This is real. I made it out. I survived.
Barely,a distant part of my brain whispers.
I gag as bile rises in my throat again, and I double over.
When my stomach finally ceases its protest, I lean back against the wall, a shuddering sigh falling from my lips. The wind steals it as another tear carves its way down my face.
I don’t have time to sort through the chaos raging in my mind. Because just as the wind snatched my sigh, it sends something back.
I tilt my head and listen intently to the sounds carried to me, like the gods themselves are whispering in my ear.
Footsteps. Dried leaves crushed under careful heels.
And they’re heading straight for us.
I scan the clearing, noticing for the first time there’s nobody on watch, and scramble to my feet. I fly through the door quicker than Ican even organize my thoughts—the fear from my nightmare still grips me like the skeletal fingers of a specter, making my panic surge.
“Wake up,” I say, my voice somewhere between a whisper and a shout. Raven bolts upright, his eyes sharp and alert, like he wasn’t asleep in the first place. His gaze locks onto mine, and for a moment, I see something flicker there—concern, maybe, or frustration. But it’s gone as quickly as it appeared, replaced by the calm, commanding presence I’ve come to rely on. “People are approaching from the woods.”
My words spread through the group like wildfire, any lingering fatigue burning to ash in their wake. I rush to Nyssa’s side, taking in her grim expression and the twin daggers already in her hands.
“Who was on watch?” Myna hisses.
Lark turns from the window and glances over his shoulder. “Lory took over from me.”
“Not important right now. Lark and Myna, you’re with me. We’ll face them off and draw them toward the homestead.” Raven’s deep voice is steady, not a shred of fear or uncertainty to be heard. “Heron, Sparrow, and Starling, go out the back. Head into the woods and come up behind them.”
He doesn’t wait for an answer before he stands and grabs his blades, the others following quickly. Heron heads toward the back door without hesitation, Nyssa stalking after him.
I can’t move.
My feet are rooted to the ground while my stare is fixed on Raven’s back. He stops and turns. My heart clenches at the sight of his face, illuminated by the silver light shining through the broken shards of a windowpane.
