Cutting across the ruined grounds, we carved a path along the perimeter of dirt and snow. The hollers of the volunteers grew softer the farther we ventured along the runout zone. But the whispers, those were as loud as ever.
The advisors slowed their pace, falling behind their queen.
“When are we going to address the matter of the Galdur?” one of them pressed. “That is the real issue here. Whenever we fix things, ten more issues pop up. Are we cursed?”
“A dark shadow has fallen over the realm,” another said. “Just like what happened right before the Cross-Realm War. Something is coming, even if the queen doesn’t want to admit it.”
“It’s the Nephilim,” a third spat. “Things got worse when she arrived. I swear it.”
My heart twisted.
Kristjan halted at the edge of the rampart, a huge chunk of it lost to the ice. “It’s best to stay here in case there are any other disturbances on the mountain, and there are sharp things beneath the surface.”
“Yes, great point, Kristjan.” Hildur turned, addressing the rest of us. “If the angel needs to cross over, that is fine, but we will stay here, where it is safe.”
Hot air blew out of my nostrils. Cheeks flaming, I tested part of the snowy mound with my foot. It shot right through it, at least six inches deep.
Shredded rubber—a wheel—poked out of the debris. And a glistening sheet of metal. I tilted my head. “Is that…”
“A truck,” Kristjan confirmed. “The service road runs, erm…ran, parallel to here.”
Whoa. He wasn’t kidding.
Grasping the rough edges of the blown-out wall I assumed was supposed to provide a barricade for this sort of thing, I treaded the more compact snow, slipping around to the other side.
My breath caught in my chest. A swell of fog rose from the snowpack, billowing into a sparkling cloud. Tendrils of shadow curled through the haze—traces of dark magic.
There must’ve been dozens of elves, both Eyes and royals, helping clear the road—the number of footprints gave that away. Why hadn’t anyone mentioned… this?
Same thing as yesterday: no one had made a single comment about the black veins trickling through the frozen moat. Clearly, we weren’t dealing with a natural problem. It was supernatural. Evil.
The queen was far too cunning a woman not to know that. Far too powerful a being not to notice it. What was she hiding?
I crossed my arms. The shadows trembled, gathering together like an incoming storm.
Doubt pressed in on me like a cold front, curling my spine. Sure, there’d been a handful of times I’d called upon water—but that felt more like a miracle than a testament to my magical abilities—and it was purely redirection. I’d never created something out of water; that sounded about as possible as pulling something out of thin air.
Fuzzy dots speckled my vision. I’d been staring at the snow for too long.
Turning away and finding—surprise—more ice, something caught my eye: a pair of fresh footprints, but instead of the toes heading back to the castle, they pointed in the opposite direction—towards the mountain. Strange.
Even stranger, the fog hadn’t dispersed at all despite the frigid gusts rolling off the ridge, seeming to be suspended over the debris.
Someone else was out here. Maybe the one who’d caused this mess.
I glanced back at the rampart. Between the thick layers of stone and the massive mound of ice and snow, the queen and her minions couldn’t see me—and I doubted they could hear me, their own conversation muffled on this side of the wall.
Squaring my shoulders, I shut out the noisy fear and followed the mysterious tracks into the heart of the mountain.
Palms pressed against my thighs, I hunched over, the air thin and stabbing.
Those damn footprints had disappeared, leaving me alone and confused on a narrow path between the peaks. But, of course, only after I’d climbed over piles of rubble and dodged the icy rock still dropping down from the avalanche and reached an elevation where I could hardly breathe.
A draft tunneled through the pass, whistling in my ears.
I looked over my shoulder, the immediate area surprisingly free and clear of debris—aside from the small towers of rocks stacked along the cliffside, which were arranged a bit too perfectly to be a natural phenomenon.
From here, I could make out the entire lay of the land. The castle, a glistening carving of ice. The elves, nothing but specks.
