Fitz nods emphatically. “You must know that passing the test in the forest grants safe passage to the Inner Sanctum. However,shecan deny entry if you understand my meaning, halvgud. Gothi are forbidden from treading this path, and she has a rather violent history with Lavinia.”
She swallows hard, taking in her three companions.
“How do you know I am a halvgud?”
Is the mink smirking at me?
“Vísir are not the only ones with the power to read runes. I trained from the woman your companions call the Wicked Wyvern.” He waves her off with a paw. “If anyone can destroy the evil of Skalor, it would be this ragtag bunch.”
The group shares a tense silence as they trudge through the woods, passing the mountain of Makt’s Temple and moving beyond. No one knows when the Forest of Fear will begin or what to expect.
Edmund mutters prayers under his breath while Argnier’s face is set with a hard determination.
She counts the birds they pass to steady her mind, noting their vibrant colors and wingspans, which differ from those in Treland.
Calder is the most on edge. His pipe does not leave his lips, and he strides far enough ahead of the pact that she knows he has resigned to the terror that awaits them.
After pausing for a quick break, Aura can feel the air change. The energy in the pit of her stomach intensifies, and a force flutters in her heart.
Finally, the terrain shifts around them. Twirls of twigs encircle the base of each towering, snow-covered evergreen. The group instinctively spreads out, allowing the peculiar designs to separate them as they await the onset of their trials of fear.
They have not ventured far when Calder’s hand lands firmly on her shoulder. He removes Makt’s great axe and secures it to her back.
“If I don’t make it out, you are our only chance to kill him.”
She shakes her head, refusing to entertain this defeatist thought.
“I am the son of Lavinia and…” He raps his knuckles against the nearest tree, his brows knitted as if saying anything more haunts him. “I need you to be safe.”
He takes her head between his calloused hands and kisses her with more swooning passion than he has previously. “Never doubt that my heart beats only for you.”
With that parting, he turns away and plunges into the forest, leaving her heart fluttering for the hardened warrior while a profound sense of foreboding churns in her gut.
Her feet move effortlessly, without much thought to their placement. As she ventures deeper into the thickening forest, the animal noises grow quieter until the only sound is the crunch of snow beneath her boot heel. She soon realizes she is alone in the underbrush.
“Calder? Argnier? Edmund?” She calls out, but her voice does not carry as it should.
Her blood runs cold as uneasiness pulsates within her very soul.The isolation from her companions unnerves her more than any task that awaits her.
What if they fail? What if the Wyvern devours their souls?
As her spiraling panic intensifies, the terrain around her shifts, and she descends along a muddy path while the powdery white forest floor looms above her head. Down and down, she trudges into a flowing stream, diving through the path. Gnarled tree roots twist down toward the stream like contorted bones.
Once the water laps at her boots, she senses a shift in the air. The clanking of metal above her head draws her gaze to the steel chains suspended in midair. Before she can comprehend their strange presence, she notices bodies bound in the creaking links.
The first two individuals halt her progress entirely, as she can identify the faces as those of her family friends.
Kjarton’s corpse hangs limp beside his mother, along with other acquaintances she knows well in Toftlund.
Each body sways with the wind, some with blank gazes, while others bear signs of horrifying mutilation.
This is not real.
She repeats the words as if they are a prayer to the gods.
The stream laps cool against her calves as she wades through its waters, keeping her eyes on the unending string of corpses swinging above. Their shadows cast an unsettling darkness where her boots tread, yet not as disturbing as the creaking of the chains in the breeze that leaves her hands trembling.
Her shaky resolve disappears as her gaze absorbs the next body.
