Mason laughed. “Fair enough.”
As she was about to move her horse, Mason placed a hand on her leg. “Seriously, be careful out there; things have been different lately.”
Sorcha covered his hand with her own, nodding. “You too, okay?”
He stepped back as she urged her horse forward. Emry was whispering something to Riona, his voice low and close to her ear. Sorcha saw a faint blush creep onto Riona’s face before Emry stepped back. Riona swung into the stirrup and mounted Briar. Mason and Emry turned and rode off, their horses at an easy trot. The rhythmic clopping of hooves echoed against the stone paths, mingling with thedistant sounds of Lumora waking. As Sorcha and Riona rode out, the familiar warmth of the fields gave way to dense woodland. The open blue sky narrowed under a thick canopy of towering trees, the path twisting like a serpent through the underbrush. Vibrant greens faded to muted hues, shadows stretching unnaturally beneath the branches. A sudden chill permeated the air as sunlight struggled to pierce the dense fog that clung to the ground.
Riona rode beside Sorcha, but as the darkness crept in, Riona struggled to hide her nerves. Sorcha spoke in a whisper. “Stay alert. The Hollow is known for its illusions.” Riona shifted in her saddle, gripping the reins tighter. The horses’ hooves softened against the forest floor, muffled by the thick moss below them. The further they rode, the more muted the world became.
At long last they reached the Hollow’s threshold. Sorcha pulled the reins back to halt her horse. Shadow let out a huff through his nostrils followed by a loud whinny. The horses refused to settle down, nervously pacing as Sorcha dismounted, then Riona. Sorcha led the horses tothe sturdy branch of a hawthorn tree, tying them with just enough slack to allow them to escape if necessary. Side by side, they stepped toward the woods. The ground felt soft beneath their boots, muffled like everything else in the Hollow. The silence stretched for a moment before the whisper of steps reached their ears. A rustling sound ahead, not from wind but something unseen that stirred just beyond the trees.
Chapter 10
Divine Intervention
Alight haze gave the woods an ethereal quality. But as they traveled, the fog shifted; tendrils that slithered through the trees thickened as they pressed further into the center of the forest. Shadows danced between the spaces unseen. A cold touch on Sorcha’s shoulder sent heat coiling beneath her skin. The runes flickered beneath her clothes. It wasn’t just the warmth; it was a vibration that sent a warning. She rubbed her arm, shrugging off the sensation. Her eyes drifted to the trees. They grew taller the further they went. Their branches tangled together like lovers’ hands. Sunlight struggled to reach through their grasp. Forcing her eyes away from the forest, she looked to Riona. She didn’t seem concerned yet, and her runes didn’t glow as they pushed through the thickening gray.
“I can barely see two feet ahead. Is this normal in the Hollow?” Riona murmured, her voice taut with unease.
Sorcha, ever composed, tightened her grip on her bow. “No, it’s not. Something isn’t right.”
Riona’s fingers brushed her knife hilt, nerves prickling. They crept slowly, carving marks into the trees; but the marks kept vanishing.
“Are we going in circles?” Sorcha asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
Riona crouched, brushing her fingers over the damp earth, her expression unsettled.
“Sorcha, look here.” Riona pointed to the ground, tracing the trail of black tar crawling around the trees.
They were in the middle of decay. Obsidian vines twisted around the ground, tangling with brush. They clawed their way up the trees and branches, dripping with a darkness that choked the life from them. Just then, Riona rose abruptly, her head snapping toward the distance. A low, haunting sound cut through the emptiness, a single howl that sent a chill racing down Sorcha’s spine.
Another howl followed, then another. Each one closer than the last. The eerie chorus echoed from all directions, amplified by the emptiness of the forest.
“By the gods,” Riona muttered. “It’s the Wolves of the Wild Hunt.”
Sorcha’s skin was now ablaze, its glow a beacon in the shadows. Riona’s own runes were now glowing softly, flickering in acknowledgment. The Spectral wolves, harbingers of death and imbalance. She swallowed hard. “What if they’re sick…like the others?”
Riona’s jaw clenched, her knuckles white around the grip of her daggers. The thought of facing the already lethal wolves that may be twisted in sickness made her sweat and dread knot in her stomach. The howls grew louder, the sound wrapping around them like a tightening noose. Sorcha turned slowly, runes glimmering beneath her skin. Shapes flickered at the edges of the trees. Humanoid silhouettes with eyes like burning rubies. The wolves prowled at their feet, snarls low, some snapping their teeth.
“Bocanachs,” Sorcha hissed. “Ready your daggers.” Sorcha remembered that the bocanach got pleasure from causing fear and despair, often lingering near spaces of pain or death to feed on the negative emotions. That they were in the middle of decay and dead animals made it a perfect hunting ground. Sorcha didn’t hesitate, now knowing what she was up against. Her fingers flew to the string, notching an arrow in a practiced motion. The first specter lunged, its form flickering like smoke, and she loosed her shot. The arrow struck true, shattering the figure into vapor. But no sooner had it vanished than two more emerged, gliding toward them with eerie, weightless grace. Sorcha fired again. And again. Each shot dissolved another shadow, yet more kept coming.
“Keep moving!” she barked.
The wolves surged forward, red glowing eyes locked onto their targets. Sorcha spun, heart pounding, loosing an arrow into the nearest one. It let out a piercing howl as its form flickered and dissipated, but there were more. They now we’re surrounded.
“We need to climb,” she called, voice strained. “We’ll have a better vantage point!”
Riona nodded, sheathing her daggers before launching herself up the nearest tree. Sorcha followed, her quiver bouncing against her back as she climbed. Fingers slick with sweat made the climb harder. From their perch, the specters prowled. Sorcha loosed arrow after arrow. Each hit sent another enemy dissolving, but for every one that fell, two more emerged. The runes surged, heat racing through her veins like liquid fire. It gathered at her fingertips, coiling around each arrow like unseen threads of light, ensuring she never missed. With every pull of the string carrying more force than the last, the power inside her rose, demanding to be unleashed.
“We can’t hold them off forever!” Sorcha shouted.
Riona pulled a rune stone from her belt, her lips moving swiftly in an incantation. She held it aloft, its faint glow slicing through the air. For a moment, the Bocanachs hesitated, their flickering forms wavering. Her own runes flickered, like lightning bugs in the night.
“Buy me some time!” Riona yelled.
Sorcha fired faster, her shots striking true, even as wolves clawed at the base of the tree. One managed to climb, spectral claws digging into the bark. Sorcha grabbed her dagger, slashing at its face until it lost its grip and tumbled back to the ground. Her vision blurred. For a moment, she saw flashes of shadowy figures writhing in agony, voices rising in a chorus of screams. She clenched her teeth, shaking her head to clear it, fingers tightening around her bow.
“Riona, whatever you’re doing, hurry!”
