I stand there, the strap of my satchel heavy across my shoulders, the lingering ghost of Amriel’s presence still humming in the air.
I wait until its fizzle fades. With any luck, I’ll never see him again. I’ll make my way through the labyrinth, break the hourglass, then choose the Aethrolian door and leave Velindra forever.
And then—once an entire mountain range separates me from the fae king—our hearts will no longer beat in time. Or if they do, I won’t know it, much less care.
I spin to face the Wildwood, buoyed by the thought. But themoment I do, the breeze dies. The wildflowers go still. Even the birdsong fades, leaving only silence.
I take a fortifying breath. Another. My hand finds my pendant and squeezes. “Guide me, Ishanna,” I whisper. “Please.”
The metal warms in my fingers. I square my shoulders and take my first step toward the shadowy gateway.
The moment my foot crosses into darkness, the Wildwood swallows me whole.
Chapter 9
Blackness stretches in every direction. There’s nothing before me, nothing behind me. Just darkness for as far as I can see.
But it differs from the darkness of the wayfarer’s gyre. Here, at least, I exist. Gravity does, too. No light touches my eyes, but leaves crackle beneath my feet. My hair sways against the small of my waist, and so I forge ahead, certain I must be moving.
Then…
Light. Lots of it.
The darkness abruptly recedes. I emerge into the forest, my mouth dropping open. Because it’s…breathtaking.
Majestic trees soar skyward, their branches knitting a high dome overhead. Shards of rainbow sunlight sift through gleaming violet leaves, while all around me, jewel-toned blossoms nod on tall stems. Here and there, magenta sparkles drift through the air, adding to the riot of light and color that defines this place.
My head turns as I soak up the scene. I find no trace of the shadows that shroud the Wildwood from outside, and for a moment, I’m overcome, engulfed by a sense of awe I’ve only ever experienced in my temple.
But I push down the ache. I can’t let the beauty of this place foolme. If what Amriel says is true, then these woods intend to hurt me. Not only that, but the Shadow is here, too, beneath these same trees. He might even have sensed my arrival. He might smell me already.
I tense at the thought, my head cocking as I catalog the sounds carried on the breeze. Somewhere close by, water trickles. Birds burble. Overhead, a summer wind sighs through jeweled leaves.
No sign of any goblins.
A slow exhale leaves me, and I turn a circle to take my bearings. Behind me, the shadow wall stretches in both directions, broken only by the gate I came through. I reach for it, testing its darkness, but my hand doesn’t pass through, this time. A solid wall presses back, unyielding.
Ice trickles down my spine. No turning around, then, I guess.
The knowledge tightens my shoulder blades, but there’s no sense dwelling on it. I need to cover as much ground as I can before the Shadow finds me, so I spin around, choose a tree in the distance to aim for, and start to walk.
My head swivels as I go. A threat could come from any direction, and I startle at every rustle in the underbrush. But I reach my chosen tree, then another, and no creatures burst from the bushes to snap off my head. Soon, my gait relaxes into something more natural. Each stride kicks up the scent of rich loam, and I follow the smell, doing my best to chart a straight path.
The minutes melt together, my steps echoing beneath the high vault of the forest. At one point, I catch a magenta sparkle as it floats past my nose. It extinguishes on contact, leaving a red smear across my palm, and I wipe the residue on my dress while wondering whether to dig into my satchel for the orb bracelet. But I have little desire to see the hourglass just yet, and no desire at all to contact Amriel. What would I even tell him, except that I haven’t died yet? I don’t want him poisoning the silence with his insufferable voice, anyway.
No, best leave him alone so he can drink himself into a stupor. Or maybe he’s downstairs by now, partaking in some mealtime debauchery.
My nose wrinkles at the thought. Actually, that’s probably exactly what he’s doing—indulging in depravity while I’m out here risking my life. I bet he’s even?—
My stomach turns, and I rub at it to soothe its antics. Why am Ithinking about Amriel? I must be hungry, still, and no wonder. I’ve barely eaten in days.
My chosen tree slides past, and I find another to steer by. No reason not to eat while I walk, so I dig out Rhialla’s sack, which yields up a jam tart coated with frosting and bright red berries. I turn the treat this way and that, struck by the effort that went into making it.
In Aethrolia, such a thing would be considered wasteful. An extravagance. Yet someone clearly labored over this confection, so maybe the bigger waste would be not eating it.
The first bite goes down easy. Too easy, and I frown, unsure of whether to fight the flavors singing on my tongue or to embrace them. Because food like this has never passed my lips. I didn’t know food like this evenexisted.
I bite in again, tentatively. This time, I can’t hold back my moan.
