Page 10 of Of Withering Dreams
Kaden shifted awkwardly on his feet, and Breena pursed her lips, not meeting my gaze. When they remained silent, my narrowed eyes shifted to my sister as she shrugged, her nose scrunching.
Gavrel coughed as if his words were sticking to his windpipe. “The shadow creature that attacked you is a shade,” he informed us, sliding his sword into the scabbard on his back. “We’re in the Stygian Murk, a kind of limbo or portal realm. And whoever is … lighting up like a bloody lantern is a Druik.” His eyes surveyed our surroundings, chiseled jaw clenching.
A sharp squeak left me, my mouth gaping and eyes wide. Kaden’s eyes found something particularly interesting on the clay earth beneath his boots.
Breena started, “How do you?—”
Gavrel interrupted, his voice firm, “I’d love to delve further into all that, but it looks like there are more shades interested in us. We have to move. Follow me, everyone.” He turned without further delay, expecting us to follow him despite the astonished looks washing over our faces.
Kaden reached out his large, steady hands and pulled Letti and me to our feet. I rubbed my forehead, trying to rid myself of the lingering fog clouding my mind.
Kaden shifted my hair to one side. With concern, he whispered, “You’re bleeding, Ser.”
I gingerly touched my nape and let out a hiss. My fingers came away coated in congealed blood and clay dust. “It’s all right. I’ll take care of it when we get … wherever we’re going.”
My forced smile was not convincing as I had hoped it would be, and Kaden moved his head from side to side in reproach. But he moved on regardless, dropping my hair to my shoulder. A few tangled curls cascaded down my back when I wiped my hand on the stone beside me.
I packed my lingering questions and panic deep into the base of my spine, enforcing its bones and forbidding it to bow—refusing to allow it to break.
A putrid breeze caressed my face as another crack of thunder roared, reverberating through the soles of my feet. My weary legs carried me after Gavrel and the others, advancing to the looming arch ahead.
7
FIREFLIES IN A JAR
The stony archway towered before us, commanding attention. Several creeping shades loitered at our backs but did not press forward.
“Are we safe from them?” Letti’s voice trembled, and she leaned her shoulder into mine.
“They won’t come near the passageway. They’ll disintegrate if they come too close to its ember,” Gavrel replied. He positioned himself near me, his broad shoulders and chest blocking the Stygian Murk from my peripheral. “Let’s go, everyone. Walk through, and you’ll be free of this place.”
“What’s on the other side, Gav?” Kaden tipped his head toward his brother, rubbing a palm over his flat belly, one eyebrow arched.
“It’s Surrelia.” Gavrel squared his feet.
An audible chorus of gasps flew through the air. My stomach lurched as I gawked at the rocky egress, shoulders frozen in place. I held my breath, hearing only the whooshing of the wind through the arch. He didn’t continue.
Breena broke the silence, her sarcasm dripping through a toothy grin. “So … you mean we’re all dead? Meeting the Ancients, as they say.”
“No, we’re not dead … at least, not yet. Let’s go,” he insisted as he placed a hand on the small of my back, urging me forward.
“Are you bloody serious?” I demanded, digging my heels into the dusty ground. “We’re going to need more than that, Gavrel Larkin.”
He’d known me long enough to know how stubborn I could be. I wasn’t budging. He stepped in front of me, making eye contact with each of us. “I promise many of your questions will be answered in the next few weeks.”
He turned to the side, holding his arm toward the entrance in an invitation. “Please, let’s head through. We’ll talk more there. We’re running out of time.” His mouth went soft, his dark eyes pleading. Gavrel didn’t plead. I didn’t recall his mouth ever looking so full, considering it was usually trapped in a scowl.
“Fine. But I won’t forget your promise.” I stomped around him to the entrance. When the others followed, Letti grasped my hand in hers as we moved.
“I would certainly hope not,” he muttered, herding us into the portal that led to where the Ancients once presided.
Many people believed the Ancients had deserted us long ago after cursing Midst Fall with the Withering. Several people still followed their old ways, praying harder and performing rituals in desperate repentance—trusting that the Ancients would never set such a scourge upon our lands. They believed the Ancients were, in fact, protecting us through the Dormancy. Some naysayers doubted the Ancients ever existed. I didn’t know what to think. Most of my time was consumed by thoughts of surviving the days ahead.
Upon reaching the center of the narrow passage, I looked through the arch to the dusty horizon beyond. In the next moment, a snap of glaring light enveloped us like a tidal wave crashing over everything in its path. I found the sensation strangely soothing, similar to sinking your body into a warm pond.
When we stepped out of the arch, my hand shot up to cover my eyes. Brilliant azure hues painted the sky; not a cloud was in sight. I sucked in a deep breath, my stomach and chest expanding with the fresh air.
I spun around, my tangled auburn curls twirling around me before settling on my back and shoulders again. The Stygian Murk had vanished. We had exited a tall, vaulted archway. Dense amber glass—like that of an active Dormancy pod—formed its outer frame. Its edges were glazed in silver, liquid-like metal. Spinning mist and twinkling luminescence filled its interior, resembling hundreds of dancing fireflies trapped in a hazy jar.
