My nose is numb by the time we reach the downtrodden area of the kingdom. Several people linger, but hardly any of them bother looking my way. Fortunately, no skrellins appear, either. I’d once been so afraid to walk through here, but nothing can scare me more than The Shallows. Nothing but losing my sister to this dreaded curse, anyway.
A line of trees and bushes marks the end of the Scraps, and I push through them, stepping over thick roots and stumbling into cobwebs.
When I finally stop in the forest, out of plain view, Thane loses the whispershade, and I hand him the vial. He gets straight to work, lowering to one knee and placing that, along with the other objects he acquired, on the ground. With his hand hovering above the vial, he murmurs a chant twice until the elixir glows in the dark.
He picks up the vial and hands it back to me. “It’ll wear off within half an hour once it’s activated, so don’t use it until we’ve made it to the keep.”
I nod, clutching the vial.
We take the familiar hour-long hike, and by this point my eyelids are growing heavy and my body is riddled with exhaustion, but I refuse to stop until I see The Shadow Nest.
As I approach, I hear rapid string music playing and people chatting. The area is alive, just as it is every night. I can’t help thinking how only a corrupt sorcerer like Seferin would make a home on a piece of land that was once called Hollow Acre.
Legends say a dark sorcerer performed a ritual here centuries ago in an attempt to become a god. The ritual backfired and ripped a hole between the Crystal and Shadow Realms, killing everyone who lived on the land. A warning was etched into a pillar of stone a short distance away from The Shadow Nest:whosoever claims this land shall fall within a fortnight.
Since then, no kingdom has dared claim the land, because they believe whoever does will be cursed to fall next. Not even the savage leaders of Ruvain are foolish enough to try it.
But Seferin…well, it doesn’t surprise me that he, a power-hungry man who thinks he can defy the odds, has planted his roots here.
A lot of bad shit happens on this land—unspeakable things, according to my sister. People are often found hanging from tree branches when she’s on for the night. No one ever knows how those people wind up there, as none of them are visitors of The Shadow Nest.
Just random dead bodies.
Seeing this building again while standing on land that hums with darkness makes me think about Thane and his brother, Koa. I bet this was where Seferin took them on those late nights, and even the night when he helped them escape the Crystal Palace after stealing the Sunderstone from the vault.
My chest tightens as I think about Thane, who has gone ahead of me with his whispershade.Orvena, please let this work.
Two masked guards on patrol marching along a paved bridge connected to the building catch my periphery. They have no weapons because as sorcerers, their handsarethe weapons.
I see a flash of gold light near them, and after several pained grunts, Thane appears where the guards were. He raises a thumb, confirming he’s taken them out and that this side of the grounds is clear.
Good. Now to get inside.
I dash across the field and press my back against the building.
I try the kitchen door again, but it’s locked.
“Damn it,” I mutter.
I circle the building a bit more and come across a small window a few feet above ground level that I’m certain leads to the dungeons—or at least will get me close to them.
I throw back an elbow to break the glass, then pause as I look around to make sure no one heard. Thane must still be keeping the area clear. When I don’t see anyone, I kick the rest of the glass out with my foot and slip inside.
I hurry toward Analla’s cell, and my heart drops when I see her. She lies on her side, barely breathing. Her hair is mostly gray now, her skin dry, and her lips split.
“Analla,” I whisper.
She doesn’t move.
My heart starts to beat faster. “Analla,” I try again, eyes burning with the urge to cry.
A faint moan slips out of her as she rustles a bit.
I let go a sigh of relief. She isn’t dead yet. Thank the goddess.
She stirs sluggishly, and when her tired eyes catch me, they widen with surprise.
“Zaira.” Her voice is coarse, faint.
