“We need to get inside the temple! Now, before it attacks!” he shouts over his shoulder at me.
“But … we need a crystal star,” I argue.
“We’ll deal with it.” He breaks into a sprint, his long strides cutting across the uneven graveyard, aiming for the entrance.
I can’t keep up. My legs feel like they’re filled with lead. My muscles scream, and my chest burns. It’s the darkness. It’s leeching something from me, draining the energy from my body as if it’s feeding off my very essence.
I trip on a jagged grave, and Taron is there to catch me. His hand clamps around my arm, pulling me upright with desperate strength.
“Come on,” he says, glancing over his shoulder, first at Kara and Savannah storming from the left, then at the remainder of the teams closing in on the right.
But I can barely hear him over the rush of blood in my ears.What is this dark entity doing to me?
I glance up, eyes barely focusing through the haze clouding my vision. The entity unfurls further, now in front of the temple, halting everyone in their tracks.
A monstrous silhouette takes form, a grotesque body twisting and contorting as it slithers through the air with unearthly speed. It traces wide circles around the edge of the graveyard, like a predator surrounding us. Jagged limbs scrape against the trees, shredding bark and leaving deep gouges in the trunks. Its eyes – four glowing embers – burn with a malevolent hunger, and its gaping mouth is a pitch-black void.
The sight of it stirs something in my mind. Ancientlegends, tales told in taverns as a means of entertainment. Of a creature spawned from the death of a dragon. A Nightshade. An ancient terror, a Soul Wraith born from darkness, death and pain so immense, its form is visible to anyone.
I gasp when the Nightshade streaks through the trees behind us, and Taron pulls me closer, his grip around my arm tightening.
His breathing is ragged, his face ashen. I recognize the throbbing veins spreading on the inside of his neck to frame the sides of his face. He’s overexerted himself. Of course he has. He nearly died back there in the river, before we kissed.
“We need to move,” he says.
But I can’t. My strength is gone. The Nightshade’s presence wraps around me, a suffocating cold that sinks into my bones, rooting me to the spot.
“Taron,” I whisper, “I can’t—”
He reaches for me. There’s a desperation in his gaze I’ve never seen before. He doesn’t say anything. He just pulls me against him, arm wrapped around my waist, holding me upright as we stagger forward together.
Behind us, the Nightshade lets out a bone-chilling shriek. It’s a sound that vibrates through the ground and rattles in my skull. The beast swoops along the edge of the graveyard to our right – it’s getting closer.
“What the hell is that thing?” Gunther shouts.
“Less talking, more running!” Gigi replies.
Everyone is fleeing now, sprinting to the temple as fast as their legs will carry them. I spot Cyrus and Gideon behind us, their faces washed of colour as they dash through the labyrinth of gravestones.
Kara and Savannah race near them. They’re catching up, and they’re all faster than me, especially now that I struggle to breathe.
But even faster than Kara and Savannah is the Nightshade. From the corner of my eye, I see limbs like tendrils of pure shadow, writhing and stretching, extending towards the group. A hissing sound cuts through the air, and my blood runs cold.
I heave in panic, but the air is too thick to fill my lungs. It presses against my skin, squeezing whatever breath I have left right out of me.
Taron weaves his fingers through mine, squeezing tightly as he urges me on. But the weight of the Nightshade presses against me. I can feel its pull, its insatiable hunger. It’s draining me, sapping my energy with every passing second. Then I hear a piercing scream.
My neck swivels. Gigi and Gunther are caught in the Nightshade’s grasp, its shadowy tendrils wrapping tightly around their bodies. Gigi thrashes. Their fiery-red hair is wild as they struggle against the creature. It’s no use.
The darkness is feeding on them, draining their energy entirely. Their skin pales, face contorting in agony.
“Gigi!” Gunther’s shout is hoarse, and the Nightshade pulls him in, too. Its grasp tightens until both of them areswallowed whole by the darkness.
I watch their bodies fall limp, drained – extinguished like flickering flames.
“They’re gone,” I whisper, but my voice is far away. My knees buckle, and Taron yanks me forward.
“We need to keep moving,” he says.
