The gate creaks as I push it open, then carefully trudge through the once-meticulously tended graves of the witches who lived here, now hidden beneath tangled vines and ivy, the names on the tombs now faded.
Silence shrouds the graveyard, occasionally interrupted by the soft rustling of leaves. As I approach my sibling’s tombs, my forehead creases as I observe the scene—the five pale crypts, lined up next to each other, are open, their lids laying shattered on the ground.
Wide-eyed, I kneel by the lid from Astraea’s crypt and glide my fingers over her symbol—the moon and stars. A sharp, musky scent claims my senses, and as I peer down into the darkness, my stomach knots.
No.
I hurry to each crypt, my fingers gripping their sides, my heart pounds in my ears as realization sinks in.
They are all empty.
TWENTY-THREECalista
“Watch your step,” I whisper, putting an arm out to stop Ari from walking ahead as I peer into the darkness for any sign of movement. “Here,” I point at a collection of trees, then grab Ari’s hand and pull her over the uneven, root-stricken ground. I stumble, and she steadies me as ivy catches around my ankles like nets, as if the island is trying to capture me too.
Twigs whip my arms and vines glide over my cheeks as we enter through the trees. A cobweb clings to my face, and I wipe it away, biting my tongue as we fight nature to allow us through.
There is an abandoned village this way. We can find shelter. I’m not sure how I know. I’ve never set foot in this place, but perhaps I’ve been here before in a dream.
We walk quietly, but I cannot shake the feeling that we are being followed. I listen for footsteps, but only the sounds of waves crawling over the pebbly shore permeate the area.
The damp, musty scent of decaying wood hits my nostrils, and I stop. “Do you hear that?” I ask.
Drake holds his breath for a few seconds, then shakes his head. “I don’t hear anything.”
“Exactly,” I reply, my voice barely a whisper. “It’s far too quiet,” I add, and look around. It’s as if every animal and insect escaped this place long ago. Even the leaves, in various stages of decay, seem trapped in time.
Blackness envelopes us as we delve deeper under the canopy, robbing us of our sight. The silhouette of the trunks is slightly darker than the rest of the background, and I narrowly dodge a graywar tree as I feel around us.
I halt, whipping my head around as a loud crack echoes from the branches behind us, and my muscles tense. I gesture at Arabella as we step into a clearing. The light from the moon filters through the canopy, lighting the feathery moss hanging from low branches in an ominous red.
Drake steps beside me, his posture poised to fight. He keeps one arm out, as he waves Arabella over as a second crack sounds. My sister’s arm brushes mine when she reaches us, and we form a circle, standing back-to-back as we peer into the darkness.
Drake points toward the trees he is facing as footsteps sound, twigs snapping a moment after. I hold my breath, carefully following his lead as he walks back into the blackness.
Leaves lightly crunch under his heavy boots, and my heart hammers in my ears, each exhale shaky as I try to control the sound of my breathing.
A loud caw sounds from the branches overhead, and my eyes flick to the canopy. The air whooshes from my lungs as my boot snags on a stray root. Grunting, my palms hit the ground first, the impact shooting needles into my wrists. I hiss through my teeth, then turn.
I try to muffle my raspy breaths, desperately covering my mouth with my hand.
Arabella’s panicked voice carries through the trees.
“What happened?”
“Brace yourselves,” I snap as I narrowly avoid a vine thrashing in my direction, before coiling back into the ground.
Every nerve in my body screams danger as I stand. After a few seconds, a thud booms from behind us.
“Grab Ari,” I yell as the time-chiseled trees shed their foliage, the skeletal corpses of leaves drifting around us like snow.
I glance around, sensing a familiar tingling in my fingers when my magic pours into my hands, like it never has before.
Relief floods me as my power fills me up. It was only temporarily depleted, but the desire to feel another turn to ash under my touch is suddenly an itch I wish to scratch. I know it is wrong to answer the call to death and destruction, but the more I use it, the farther it embeds into who I am. Madness fringes my mind. What in the Darklands is happening to me?
I shiver as cold air shoots down my spine. Power surges through my veins, coursing alongside adrenaline, and I squint, my nostrils flaring.
It must be Edwardo. He’s the only one who could have nature enhancement and manipulation.
Our eyes are instantly drawn to the treetops by a chorus of deep groans, accompanied by cracking, as the fibers of the branches come crashing down.
“Run!”
Drake’s shout is drowned out by snapping and loud cracks arrowing into the night as branches cascade down upon us from high above, tearing through thickets of leaves, revealing the light of the moon.
I take off running toward Ari when the deep moan of a tree branch fills my ears. Splinters fall like a hundred pins onto my face.
I squeeze my lids shut, my throat drying as sharp pain lances into my skull. “Fuck!”
I run blindly, my arms outstretched.
A second thud reverberates behind us.
“Drake,” I yell, but another thud thunders ahead, shaking the ground. I try to steady myself as my boots slide over slick algae, coating the forest floor.
I push myself faster, pulsating behind my temples as I race between the trees, my palms eventually landing against the rough bark of a tree trunk. Coming to a halt, I listen for any indication of where Ari and Drake might be. Then a tickle curls in the depths of my nose, and I take a sudden breath in, the potent, musty scent agitating my senses.
An explosion of air forces itself out of my nostrils, my eyes rolling up, mouth opening as I sneeze, once, then twice. I fall to my knees, my sister and Drake’s panicked yells combined with the occasional scream, race my heart. I sneeze again, tears streaming from my eyes as the splinters etch deeper, and my fingernails carve into the dirt.
