He answered without looking. “Shadow blockers.”
“What do they do?”
“They help to keep the energy within. Now, carry on.”
“Wait. The tree’s energy?”
“Well, the energy of whatever it’s placed on.”
“Is that why Shadowick always feels so…”
“Stale? Decrepit? Musty?” His furry brows lifted, and he carried on walking.
“Yeah. Exactly.” I followed him, and the farther we walked, the quieter everything became. A person would think heading into the village would make things more vibrant, but it never seemed to do that in Shadowick.
The only sounds I heard were the soft crunch of gravel beneath our feet and the distant creak of something metallic moving somewhere deep in the fog. Maybe a cart of some sort?
My fingers slipped into my pocket and curled around Twobble’s pebbles again.
Home.
I missed Stonewick.
And not in the dramatic, poetic sense either. I missed stupid little things like Stella threatening customers with magic who insulted her tea, the tourists getting an absolute delight out of it, or Nova pretending not to know anything while clearly knowing everything. And oh, how I missed the Academy’s floors thrumming under my feet and Keegan leaning againstdoorframes looking at me like I was both a problem and a miracle every time I entered the room.
Most of all, I missed Celeste, and the ache hit so hard I nearly stopped walking.
Barlen glanced back. “Do not linger. It always brings trouble.”
“Why?”
“The hills remember, and the shadows remember even more.”
“Like what?”
He hesitated long enough that I knew he regretted speaking. “Things buried…things unnoticed.”
The fog thickened as we continued downward until the compound vanished entirely behind us. Ahead, dark shapes slowly emerged through the mist.
Buildings came into view, the things that should make Shadowick lively and bustling.
My pulse quickened despite myself. It wasn’t that it was exhilarating or that I didn’t know what to expect. It was quite the opposite. I remembered the forced silence that coated everything and lingered long after I left. It was like dealing with someone who had a bad day and was determined to make everyone feel it as well, long after they’d left the room.
Narrow buildings leaned toward one another over cramped streets. And like always, their windows were covered with heavy curtains.
It didn’t matter if it was homes or stores; everything looked hidden but not abandoned. People moved through the streets quietly. Cloaked figures slipped through fog with headslowered. Shop signs creaked overhead in the wind, though most storefronts appeared closed.
They weren’t boarded up, merely locked as if the residents knew that trouble was always around the corner.
I spotted a woman carrying a basket. She glanced at me once before hurrying away so quickly that apples spilled from the cloth lining. Something told me they weren’t the apples I was used to eating.
“She didn’t stop to gather them,” I told Barlen.
“Nope.”
A child standing in a doorway stared openly at me until an older man pulled him back inside and shut the door with the click of a lock.
My stomach twisted.
