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There’s a whisper, a hum, a warning on the sudden mist that’s closing in on the campsite.

Eivor and Cress working in tandem.

“Make it through the Mocking Woods,” says that whisper, “and you’ll secure their vote.”

Rory halts, eyes widening at something in the distance. I follow her gaze, only there’s nothing there.

“Cress!” she screams, bolting deeper into the woods. “Where are you?!”

“Rory, wait,” I call after her, but she’s much faster when not weighed down with skirts.

She vanishes in a slash of black, blending in with the woods’ shadows. I race after the sound of her footsteps, frantic and searching. The Mocking Woods. Fuck. I wanted to avoid this disastrous area at all costs.

Rory screams.

The sound curdles the blood in my stomach, and pure animalistic instinct takes over. Leaping over fallen trunks and dipping under boughs, I search for her. A minute passes. Two. The crimson thread knotting us as sire and childe appears in my mind’s eye, and I follow it. Closer and closer until⁠—

Thank fuck.

There. Crouched against a tree, eyes screwed shut, rocking back and forth on her heels.

“I’m here,” I murmur, cupping her face, smoothing my thumbs against her cheeks, trying to coax her back into reality as gently as I can. “Whatever you’re hearing… None of it is real, love. The Mocking Woods are enchanted to trick you, to trap you. It’s not real.”

“Don’t touch me,” she hisses, springing to her feet and shoving me backward. “I hate you. I hate what you’ve made me become. A monster just like you.” She sneers. “Godrick should’ve killed you, not Catalin.”

“I—” My brow furrows as I study the female glaring up at me. There is no scent of wildflowers or vanilla. No light in those pitch-dark eyes. “You’re not her,” I snarl.

Fuck.

I spin in a circle, searching for the real Rory. The thread I’d followed to find her… it had to have been an illusion because this twisted version is not her.

No, this is a nymph, and there’s only one renowned for commanding the Mocking Woods.

One of Carver’s many exes.

Avaline, the Heart of the Forest.

I expected some sort of request or test to prove my worth to Riven, but for Alyvia and Eliphas to warrant one too? To ask Avaline to test us? I’m seething as I listen for any hint of my mate and where Avaline is keeping her. If anything happens to her, I will tear the stars from the sky and burn this world to ash. I will⁠—

The female purrs. “What’s wrong, Quill?”

“Enough with your games, Avaline,” I growl. Unsheathing the blade on my hip in less time than it takes her to blink, I drag the ash-dipped edge across her cheek, cutting through the glamour in one brutal swipe. She sheds Rory’s likeness until she is all moon-pale skin and a vindictive grin. “Where is she?”

“Foolish vampire, you brought a fledgling into my woods.” She flicks a lock of emerald hair over her shoulder. “You don’t deserve such a pretty little thing.”

“I will not ask you again.” I bring the point of the dagger to her flawless cheek once more. “Where is my godsdamned mate?”

Eyes as brown as bark flash. “Don’t.”

“Summon my mate or I’ll ensure the cut is deep enough to scar.”

“I can’t.”

“Why.” It is not a question and she knows it. It’s a command laced with venom.

Her eyes dip to the binding mark on her wrist.

Disgust rattles through me. Tallis, the nymph supreme, must have commanded her to trap us in the Mocking Woods in an endless nightmare to prevent the Challenge from going through.