I could hardly wrap my head around it.
“I’m sorry we have no idea where we are. I feared this,” Arielle admitted, her expression pinched with guilt. “But given what we were up against, I don’t think we could have expected a better outcome.”
“I don’t think so, either.”
Arielle glanced around, nerves tightening her features. “I hope wherever we are, we’ll be safe for now.”
I looked into the trees again, into the hush that pressed in from all sides.
I wasn’t so sure how safe we were here.
As we moved deeper into the thicket, the silence grew unbearable. There were no birds. No insects. Hardly even the whisper of wind through the branches. It wasn’t just quiet; it was as if sound itself didn’t belong here. Like another dead realm.
The trees were twisted and pale, their shapes erroneous, their bark bleached like bone. The ground beneath my boots was soft, almost spongy, but cold enough to bite through the soles.
Above us, the twin suns threw light at strange angles, casting shadows that didn’t sit where they should. And the farther we went, the more that sense of isolation thickened.
A break in the trees revealed a cottage made of dark timber, blackened with age and something that might have been soot—or blood.
Twisted vines with thorns like claws had claimed most of the structure, their skeletal branches weaving through broken shutters and a chimney. The roof sagged under the weight of moss and decay, and windows stared out like hollow eyes.
Beyond the cottage stood a tall beacon structure, like a lighthouse.
This place looked less like a home and more like an outpost from the mortal coastlands. A place built to watch the sea, not to be lived in.
Bastian slowed, and we stopped behind him.
“We’re boxed in,” he said, his gaze sweeping the tree line and the flat horizon beyond. “This isn’t mainland.”
I turned, peering through the gaps in the thicket. Water glimmered in the distance. More of that bluish-gray sea still and unmoving. The weight of it settled in my stomach.
We were trapped.
“Let’s head to the house and see if anyone’s inside,” Alaric suggested.
Bastian nodded and kept the lead. We followed.
As we drew closer to the cottage, I glanced through the windows, and my chest tightened.
There was no movement. No warmth. No sign of life.
Bastian knocked anyway. The sound echoed too loudly, bouncing off wood and stone like the island wanted us to hear just how alone we were.
No answer came.
Arielle reached for the handle and tested it gently. It creaked under her palm, stiff with disuse. And then the door swung inward.
For a moment, we all just stood there, staring into the hollowed-out interior. Sunlight slanted through the windows, illuminating dust drifting lazily through the air. Cobwebs clung to the corners of the ceiling and walls, thick and undisturbed. The place smelled stale and forgotten.
It didn’t look recently abandoned.
It looked like it had been left to rot.
Unease prickled along my nerves, crawling up my spine, but when Bastian stepped over the threshold, I was reminded how limited our options truly were.
We followed him inside.
Into the staleness.
