Page 67 of This Vicious Dream

“Do you remember Fliora?”

“The baby seer?” He raises one eyebrow, but I can tell he remembers every word she said.

I wait him out. After the way Fliora’s mother helped me, I’m choosing to believe her daughter.

Calysian eyes the horses. “We don’t have enough fresh water for them.”

“There’s an aquifer beneath the swamp. I learned about it last time—I needed to know I’d survive if I got lost. It releases water into springs dotted throughout the swamp.”

Calysian lets out a low growl. “This is going to be a nightmare.”

Calysian

Moments after we leave the village, the trees close in around us, stifling the sounds of the market at our back.

The wet slaps of boots on mud, the creak of carts, the haggling voices—all of them fade quickly as we take the road leading toward the swamp.

Calling it a road is an exaggeration. My instincts insisted Madinia ride at my side, but there’s barely enough room for both horses. Madinia’s mare hesitates, ears flicking back and forth as twisted branches sway in the wind, brushing against tree trunks slick with swamp moss.

Eventually, the road narrows into a trail, and I’m forced to ride ahead of Madinia.

The forest smells alive here—not in the vibrant way of fresh grass or blooming flowers. But in the way of rot—teeming with things that feed on death.

The ground grows softer, and Fox’s front hoof sinks into slick mud. He jerks backward, pulling it free with a squelch. The mud is a dark, putrid black, thick with the scent of something foul.

When the path splits, I don’t need to ask Madinia which way to turn. I can feel the insistent pull of my grimoire calling to me.

The swamp clings to us, exhausting the horses, and we’ll need to stop to rest even earlier than I’d anticipated. Within an hour, we’re forced to dismount, leading the horses through water that rises above Madinia’s thighs. She’s tense, her eyes continually scanning for threats. Clearly, she feels it too.

I feel a strange burst of unfamiliar power, and the hair on the back of my neck stands up. The swamp has encroached on the path, and we need to make it the fifty or so footspans to firmer ground. But Hope suddenly balks, tossing her head and side-stepping into Madinia, who stumbles, unbalanced. She catches herself, murmuring to the horse. But the mare is staring at something, refusing to go any further.

Horses are prey animals.

I follow her gaze to the water to our right, where ripples spread out from a shadow. A shadow that wasn’t there before.

The surface glimmers, and a dark shape glides beneath it. A smooth, serpentine shape.

A shape that radiates a strange, unfamiliar power.

“Move,” I order. “Now.”

I tug on Fox’s reins, leading him toward the higher ground, but Hope throws her head in a move that almost wrenches the reins from Madinia’s hand.

“Leave the horse,” I snarl. But she won’t. I know it before the words are even out of my mouth.

Releasing Fox, I slap him on the ass. He’s smart enough to bolt for safety as I whirl toward Madinia.

Snatching the reins from her, I resist the urge to slap her on the arse the same way I just slapped Fox. She would likely disembowel me.

“Go!”

She stumbles through the water, and I yank at the reins, forcing Hope to meet my eyes. Her eyes roll, but I reach for that power so close to me, staring her down.

She calms.

Fox whinnies, and Hope finally begins moving toward him.

“Calysian!” Madinia’s voice is filled with terror. I spin, but…

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