Heavy, deliberate footsteps creaked closer.
She forced a moan, half-princess, half-actress, hoping to sound like a disgruntled royal rudely awakened.
The steps stopped.
Her breath caught.
“I know it’s you, Lucy.”
The voice cut through the darkness like a blade.
So much for buying Esther more time,Lucy thought.
8
Esther
How to survive the forest: accept that the trees might hate you personally.
At dawn, Ashvale woke up angry.
Esther had barely managed a few hours of blissful, soot-scented sleep before the forest itself decided to come alive. One moment, sunlight was only beginning to brush the treetops; thenext, the entire forest stirred like a giant creature stretching after a long night.
Leaves unfurled with a whispering sigh. Moss brightened from gray to vivid green. Vines rippled and lifted like lazy serpents waking from a nap. Roots shuddered beneath the soil, cracking like knuckles.
She had never seen anything like it.
In twenty-one years, Esther had never expected to become a weapon. She also never expected to be used like one so early in the morning.
The group ran at full sprint through the living forest. Lyssara led the charge, her blade slicing through vines that swung down like hungry ropes. Nythir stayed just behind her, parrying roots that erupted from the ground like spears.
Once the sun rose fully above the canopy, Ashvale came alive with a vengeance—and absolutely none of it was Esther’s fault. If the trees could have glared at her, she was certain they would’ve.
She might’ve appreciated the breathtaking morning sun peeking through trees, the dew sparkling on sentient leaves, the soft groaning of awakening branches… if she weren’t draped over Vorrik’s shoulder like an oversized magic lantern.
“Fire!” Vorrik bellowed, as though she were a trained weapon.
He angled her downward.
“Wait—no—Vorrik!” Esther sputtered, but her hands flared gold, eager traitors.
Flames shot from her palms, blasting a rotting stump barreling after them. The stump burst into shrapnel, scattering charred bark across the forest floor.
“Hell yeah!” Nythir whooped, sounding far too delighted about her apparent combat usefulness.
Much like the bandits did, she thought. Which immediately made her stomach flip. Whether it was guilt or the fact thatVorrik’s shoulder bounced like an unsteady horse, she couldn’t tell.
“Try not to set the whole forest on fire!” Lyssara shouted, ducking a vine that snapped like a whip.
Vorrik ignored her entirely. He stomped through a curtain of moss that slapped Esther in the face, leaving her coughing up green fuzz. The world was a blur of emerald light and golden sparks.
“Left! Left!” Nythir barked.
“I am going left!” Vorrik roared.
“No, my left!”
A branch smacked into the side of Vorrik’s head, leaving maple sap smeared across his cropped hair. Esther burst into hysterical laughter.
