Page 94 of The Dead Queen

We pass the remnants of a man, curled up on the ground. His clothes are torn and his rib cage is a bloody mess of bruises and broken bones. It looks like he was trampled. He buries his face in his hands as he weeps.

Somewhere, a corpse wolf howls, long and low. The shadowy wraiths around us freeze as one.

Nearest to us, the weeping man slowly straightens. He turns and stares directly at me with black eyes. I stifle a shriek at the sight of him. His face is mangled beyond recognition, his features completely obliterated, turned into a mess of pulp. His skull is crushed on one side and phantom fluids still drip onto his shoulders.

All around us, the wraiths stare in our direction, their dark eyes boring through the fog.

“We need to move,” Tristan says.

We run. The dead follow us, their numbers growing with every step. A copper-clad knight lumbers after us, an empty void where his head should be. From the mist, a wraith horse emerges, galloping on broken legs. Its rider is slumped forward, a spear jutting from his chest.

None of the wraiths speak. They only watch, eyes black and unblinking as they track our every move.

“What do we do?” Hunter yells.

“Nothing!” Tristan says, panting. “I can’t fight this!”

We won’t make it. We’re surrounded with nowhere to go. More and more dead seem to appear through the fog.

Desperation fuels me as I reach deep within myself, calling upon my power. It ripples and grows inside me like a building storm. I pull away from Hunter and Tristan and thrust my palms forward. With a burst of energy, light sizzles in front of us, burning off the fog. In its place is a small clearing. The wraiths in its path disappear into thin air, dissolving like smoke.

“They need the fog to exist,” Tristan says, a wide grin on his face. “Do it again!”

Already, the fog is closing back in.

“No!” Hunter shouts.

I look back to find his eyes, wide with fear for me.

“Sienna don’t,” he pleads. “You can’t keep doing that, you’ll burn out again.”

“She can do this!” Tristan yells.

“No, she can’t!” Hunter insists. “She’s not some weapon for you to use.”

Tristan points wildly at me. “She’s stronger than you think!”

“I’m not calling her weak! I’m just trying to protect⁠—”

“Stop it!” I scream. “I can do this!”

Even as I say it, my pulse is pounding too fast. My skin feels flushed with heat, my bones hollow. I have no idea if I can do this, but I’m going to try my damn hardest to get us out of here. We can not become wraiths too, lost in this mist for all eternity.

I blast more fog away. As we run, Tristan beams at me. Something in his eyes almost looks like pride. Hunter stops protesting, but his eyebrows draw together in concern. He tries to help, calling his own light power, but the most he can do is create a measly orb of light. It does nothing against the fog, or the wraiths that chase us.

We push forward, understanding that we cannot stop again, not even for a moment.

The wraiths wail, unable to reach us. For now, we have some semblance of safety—if I can keep this up long enough to escape this cursed place. But it’s getting harder. Shadows flicker at the edges of my vision. Each blast takes more effort than the last and the power doesn’t rise so easily anymore. Exhaustion nips at my bones. I grit my teeth with determination to stay focused.

We keep running. I break another opening in the fog, but my light sputters like a candle flame caught in the wind. I pretend not to notice. I pretend I’m fine.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, the fog begins to thin. The wraiths grow distant and we stumble out of the battlefield, breathless, but alive.

My knees threaten to buckle by the time we find a spot to camp for the night. We huddle near the safety of a patch of innocent-looking trees. Nothing cursed or haunted here, as far as we can tell.

As he builds a fire, Hunter shoots me worried glances. Tristan, on the other hand, seems unconcerned as he stretches out on the leaf-covered ground to stare up at the darkening sky. It’s as if he never doubted me for a second. His faith in my power sends an unexpected thrill through me, but it doesn’t stop the dread that’s pooling in my stomach. I’ve pushed my power too far, too soon after recovering from burnout. My core feels hollow. Empty.

And it’s terrifying.