I froze with my hands halfway to my lips.
A shadow cast a spectral black silhouette on the ground to my left.
“There’s my little fugitive,” he said next. “So sweet, even when you run.”
“You’ll never have me!” I shouted, flattening my back against the rough face and calling on my magic.
“We’ll see about that,” he taunted next, my gaze fixed on the jagged outline of his wings. I needed to gauge exactly where he was so I could flee in a different direction.
“You’re mine now, Seer. Come willingly and I’ll make it all easier on you.”
My nails bit into my palms. He shifted, and a white feather fell.
He’s on the rocky outcropping above me!
I sprinted into the trees again, searching for the trail the deer had woven. Yet the panic coursing through my veins made each step feel like I was wading through waist-deep mud.
As I fled, no chasing sounds followed me. I spiraled a rushed circle. Seeking another shadow. A flash of white.
Anything that would indicate the Issaraeth’s position.
There was none.
Chest heaving, I crept forward.
This was his game, wasn’t it? Keeping me afraid. Never letting me rest.
He enjoyed this sick torture. The realization only made fury twist inside me.
The sun had almost set by the time I allowed myself to slow again. With minutes of light remaining, I had to find food, fast. But I couldn’t risk a fire to cook anything.
I inhaled deeply, scouring for the scent of something edible on the breeze. Meanwhile, I scanned the ground for more animal tracks, hoping one set would lead me to food.
Following a promising-looking trail, I spotted a peach-colored fruit between thorny leaves. My mouth watered at the sight. I leaped for them—not caring how the spikes scraped my skin—and shoved the snowberries between my lips. The juice exploded against my tongue, nearly making me moan. Again, I grasped and chewed, my aching stomach relieved with the sweet yet sour tang.
Darkness fell soon after, leaving me still exposed. Hands shaking, I retraced my steps to a semi-sheltered cave. Sinking to my knees, I braced my back against the stone.
Maybe when the moon comes out, I’ll be able to find better shelter.
So I waited, half-hoping for a bright night, half-fearing it would make me easier to find. Exhaustion tugged at my eyes, and I battled against it to keep them open and alert. Eachmuscle protested as I shifted my weight to a more comfortable position. Already, my rear had gone numb.
It’s going to be a long night.
My head snapped up, the haze of sleep banished in an instant. Cursing myself for having dozed off, I blinked at the space around me, heart thudding a staccato rhythm. No yellow irises—or ice-blue—peered at me through the underbrush. Clouds covered the sky—a blessing and a curse. I’d be harder to track, but that meant this was my position until morning.
With a groan, I curled on my side, tucking my arms under my head for support. A shiver wracked my frame, though whether it was cold, exhaustion, or terror, I wasn’t sure. Probably all three.
I pulled my knees to my chest, trying to conserve warmth. Yet even in my misery, I knew this was a far better fate than the one I’d left Zuriel and Heraphia to at the hands of the crown. The guilt of my betrayal speared into me once again.
After everything we’d been through, after everything they’d done for me, that was how I repaid them?
I closed my eyes if only to stem the flow of hot shame. Dug my teeth into my bottom lip to smother the sadness that wanted to claw out. Exhaled a shaky breath like that would absolve me of my sins.
For the thousandth time, I found myself questioning the crown and the narrative they spun for the realm. The Angels and Demons had to fight, the Koron said, because the Goddess wanted their dark magic eradicated. They worshiped the three Fates, a dark mirror to our Radiant Mother. The Korona spoke of how the Demons were beastly creatures who would rape and pillage our lands if we allowed it. Which was why lying with one was the highest in the unholy trinity of irredeemable sins. To commit one was to curse a bloodline until some distant descendant found absolution.
I’d never met a Demon, but I couldn’t understand how it was possible to speak of other intelligent people in such a way. Sure, their teeth were sharp, and their ears pointed differently from ours. Their irises and hair too were different shades from ours. And unlike our feathered wings, theirs were black and membranous. But in all other ways, we were the same.
Did superficial differences, did our magic source, did who we chose to worship, truly matter that much?
