“Keep moving,” he urges, though his voice is barely discernible amid the deafening howls of nonexistent wind.
I force another step, but it’s like walking through raging waist-deep mud. With every breath, I sink deeper and deeper as a seething cold fury riddles my bones.
We trudge our way forward at an excruciating pace, with Emlyn’s shoulder digging painfully into my chest as he strugglesbeneath my weight.
“I did not… expect you… to be… this heavy,” he says, his voice straining.
My limbs have turned to ice. I open my eyes to nothing but purple haze—I can’t even see Emlyn. The pressure increases exponentially, crushing the air out of me.
Emlyn curses, and I immediately squeeze my eyes shut. The oppressive force barely relents as he shifts beneath me.
“How far?” I gasp.
“We’re… halfway.”
My ears ring with a sharp, unending squeal, and moisture pools within, slowly dripping out. My heart thunders in my skull, and I lose all sense of direction. I’m falling forward but never hit the ground.
Then… sensation returns.
My mind begins to clear.
Arms wrapped under my armpits drag me several feet before dropping me hard against the ground.
“Reid? Reid? Wake up.” It’s Emlyn’s voice, and someone’s tapping my cheek.
I open my eyes. “It’s you.”
Emlyn’s face transforms from worry to relief, then he collapses onto the grass next to me, breathing heavily.
“Ancients. You better like it here because I am not dragging your sorry ass through there ever again.”
I let out a laugh between breaths, lazily tossing my arm out to smack him. “You say that almost like you care.”
“Fuck off.”
We both just lay there, catching our breath, as I stare up at the bluest sky I’ve ever seen.
* * *
Taran’s horse emerges from the fog first, with Taran stumbling out soon after. Ellie’s curled up in a ball in his arms, tears streaming down her face. As much as I want to punch him on Caeo’s behalf, I can’t really blame him. The horse wouldn’t have been able to handle the crushing pressure of Ellie riding on its back, and I’m sure if I were light enough to carry like that, Emlyn would’ve done the same in a heartbeat. As it is, he looks nowhere near as exhausted as Emlyn, who doesn’t even bother sitting up to greet them.
“What took you so long?” he asks.
“I couldn’t get her to take a single step.”
Taran sets Ellie on the grass nearby. He tries to move away, but she clutches the front of his shirt in a death grip, her eyes unfocused as they stare into the distance. He leans close, his lips grazing her hair, and whispers something. A lump forms in my throat, and I look away.
There’s nothing I could’ve done to prevent this.
The fog’s wrath continues to blaze behind me. I try to ignore it, along with all the feelings squirming around my head, and focus on the world around me. While there’s grass on this side instead of dirt—the scars of all the battles that never healed—it otherwise looks exactly how one would have expected the hilly landscape to have continued from the other side, except more… alive?
Every color is a shade deeper than I ever imagined possible. Rich, as if you combined color with flavor. The vibrancy tingles within me, overwhelming my senses, but in a good way—not the death cloud way.
I run my hand along the soft, luminous grass beneath me. Green like the color never made sense before now—a vivacious hue I hadn’t known existed. A barely perceptible, rhythmic pulse courses through my fingers as each blade grazes my skin.
Eventually, I realize Taran stands nearby, having freed himself from Ellie’s grasp. He’s speaking to Emlyn in the Tongue, and after some back and forth, Taran offers Emlyn his hand and pulls him up. Emlyn groans, then lumbers over to the horse and says something to her.
He meets my eyes. “I’ll be back soon.” He leads her down the hillside and out of sight.
