Relieved not to have to test her ring, she hurried from the Mistwood into the safety of the ward-protected necropolis, keeping her pace swift as she passed through the rusted iron gates and carved a path between the twisting trees and tombs. The burial ground was as silent as death, the ancient white graves glowing like specters against the shadowy light of the early morning, their gleam inadvertently protecting her from tripping over any of the smaller headstones or down the crumbling stairs into the underground crypts. She didn’t have time to sprain an ankle, the urgency she felt to hurry, hurry,hurrydriving her forward across the leaf-strewn ground, the only sounds being the crunching of her boots and her anxious, panting breaths.
Viri’s thoughts whirled as she rushed past mausoleums and vaults, the earth beginning to rise as she approached the spiraling white cathedral sitting on its grassy knoll at the heart of the necropolis. Plans and possibilities flashed rapidly across hermind, part of her wondering if all fifty of the missing children might have been found during the time she’d lost, with the rest of her instinctively knowing that hadn’t happened. The Reaper Lord had proved himself too clever not to have contingencies in place. And as much as Viri respected Meera and Darik as leaders, they had no idea who was really behind the sacrifice, or the kind of power the Reaper Lord had at his disposal—both his control of magicandthe mountain full of reapers under his command. She had to warn them about what the Nox and hunters were really facing. Sarielle, too, needed to know, so she and her council could prepare the city in case the sacrifice ended up going ahead.
Bile rose in Viri’s throat at the thought, but she kept hurrying through the necropolis, the spooky cathedral coming nearer, her skin tingling at the sight while her mind remained focused on forming a plan. The city needed all the warning it could get, so she would wake Sarielle first and urge her to rouse the council, then she would seek out Meera and share everything she knew. As for Darik…well, Viri would let Meera update the Nox captain, since his general dislike of her meant he probably had a million reasons to throw her in the Underlock by now—and not just for breaking Reeve out in the first place.
Elders, that felt like centuries ago.
Viri began to feel steadier as her plan solidified, deciding that after Sarielle and Meera, she would head straight to Wynter’s lab to find out what she and Jonas had discovered. By then, Reeve and Braedan should have arrived with news from Sage, Ardin, and Soren, and then…then…
Then they would figure out what to do next.
Another tingle traveled over Viri at the enormity of the taskbefore them, but she refused to entertain the worst-case what-ifs while there was still time. There were fifty children who needed to be saved before tonight—Jessalyn likely among them—and an entire city that needed to survive beyond that. She couldn’t give up.Wouldn’tgive up.
Determined, Viri increased her pace as she approached the rusted iron gates leading up to the cathedral, intending to speed through the last of the necropolis and take the wayportal directly to Sarielle. But just as she reached the warped, corroded fence, another tingle ran over her flesh, this time prickling enough for her to realize it had nothing to do with her emotions—it wasmagicshe could feel.
But it was also more than that.
Because as she staggered to a halt in front of the iron entryway, she became aware of something else.
Her palm was burning.
Years of training had Viri crouching into a defensive stance and uncoiling her fillium, looking left and right for the reaper who had triggered her mark. But there was no one in sight, her hand warm but not searing enough to indicate she was in imminent danger, nor that anyone nearby was being siphoned.
She bit her lip, debating what to do. Logic told her to ignore her hunter duty and continue onward, since stopping the sacrifice took priority over all else. But something inside her was resisting, her intuition whispering,“Wait. Look. Listen.”She heeded that inner voice, sparing a moment to close her eyes and concentrate on her palm.
Her eyes shot open again as she realized what her mark was tugging her toward.
The cathedral.
And it wasn’t just her mark—as soon as she stepped up to the iron gates, the prickle of ellixen grew stronger, too.
But it wasn’t either of those things that made Viri tense all over.
It was the faint sound of crying.
She’d heard something similar when she and Reeve had walked through the necropolis on their way to the Guardian, but she’d convinced herself it had been nothing more than creaking tree branches and the whistling wind.
There was no wind now, the early-morning air still and silent.
Viri’s breathing shallowed as something deep within her urged her through the rusted gates and up a short, winding path ending at a set of weathered stone steps. The crying had vanished, making her wonder if she’d imagined it, if she was wasting time and should stick to her plan to head straight to the wayportal. But her palm was burning hotter now, and her skin was prickling incessantly from magic, both convincing her to ascend the crumbling staircase and press her hand to the rotted white doors.
The entrance should have been sealed.
It wasn’t.
The doors opened at her touch, not because she’d pushed them—but because someone hadpulledthem.
Before she knew what was happening, a black-veined hand was clutching the front of her scarlet cloak and hauling her through the entryway. She raised her fillium to bring the reaper down, but the moment she crossed the threshold into the ancient building, she suddenly found the cause of the ellixen prickling her skin.
The cathedral was warded, and now that she was inside, the crying she’d heard faintly from outside was crystal clear.
Only, it wasn’t just one person crying. It was many.
And they weren’t just crying—they were also screaming.
Young, terrified screams.
The missing children.
