Page 87 of Midnight Reign
“Ignatius!” I shout, struggling against the plants’ grip. The vines feel solid and insubstantial, real and unreal all at once. “We need to get out of here!”
He nods, his eyes unfocused but determined. With a roar that sounds like a volcanic eruption, he unleashes a massive wave of fire. The flames take on fantastic shapes - dragons, phoenixes, demons - as they engulf the attacking plants. The vines recoil, and we take our chance.
We run, stumbling and tripping through the forest, our perceptions still wildly distorted by the Moonshade pollen. Trees warp and twist around us, their branches reaching out like grasping hands. The ground ripples like water beneath our feet, making each step a challenge.
I’m not sure how long we run, or in what direction. Time and space seem to lose all meaning in our pollen drug-induced state. Minutes might be hours, and metres might be miles. But finally, we burst out of the forest and onto the grounds of MistHallow.
We collapse onto the grass, panting and disoriented.
“Well,” Ignatius says after a moment, his voice still slightly slurred, “that was a fucking trip.”
I laugh at the absurdity of our situation hitting me all at once. “Yeah, let’s not do that again anytime soon.”
As we lie there, waiting for the effects of the pollen to wear off, I wonder what fucked up shit the others are facing. If getting the Moonshade was this difficult, what other dangers await us?
The trip passes, leaving me with only a vague sense of something profound just beyond my grasp.
“Come on,” I say, struggling to my feet. My legs feel like jelly, and the ground sways beneath me. “We need to get to the stone circle.”
Ignatius nods, his movements still unsteady as he pushes himself up. “Yeah, let’s hope they had an easier time than we did.”
Whatever comes next, I hope we’re ready for it, because if getting this herb was any indication, the ritual itself is going to push us to our limits and beyond.
37
CORVUS
Adelaide’s decision tojoin Zephyr and me on our quest for the phoenix ash, and then for us to accompany her to the Whispering Woods, has left me relieved but anxious. On the one hand, I’m glad to keep her close, to protect her. On the other hand, I worry that we’re wasting time when we need to be moving as fast as possible.
As we approach the rare bird sanctuary, I can feel the magick in the air. It’s old, nature magick, wild and untamed, spiking my blood and causing my fangs to drop. The sanctuary is hidden from mortal eyes, protected by powerful wards that ripple and shimmer in the moonlight.
“Right,” I mutter, eyeing the wards warily. “Any ideas on how we get past those without setting off every alarm in the place?”
“They weren’t there before,” Adelaide says, going up to them and peering at the bluey haze.
“They were probably lowered for the hunt,” Zephyr murmurs, looking around, his shadows writhing around him, responding to the potent magick in the air. “I might be able to create a shadow passage,” he says, his voice low. “But it’ll be tricky. The wards are designed to keep out dark magick.”
I nod. “Do it. It’s our best shot.”
Zephyr closes his eyes, concentrating. His shadows grow darker, more substantial, coalescing around us like a thick fog. I feel a chill run through my soul as the darkness envelops us. It’s not an unpleasant sensation, but it’s unsettling.
Adelaide shivers beside me, and I instinctively wrap an arm around her. She leans into me, and I kiss the top of her head.
“Ready?” Zephyr asks after a moment.
We nod, and suddenly, we’re moving. It’s a strange sensation, like being pulled through a narrow tube. The world around us blurs, the sanctuary’s wards flickering past us in a haze of blue light.
Then, as quickly as it began, it’s over. We stumble as we materialise inside the sanctuary, Zephyr dropping to one knee, panting heavily.
“Fuck,” he gasps. “That was harder than I thought it’d be.”
I help him to his feet, impressed by the display of power, not that I’d ever say that to his face.
Adelaide looks around, her eyes wide. “We’re in,” she whispers. “Let’s hurry.”
I scan our surroundings. The sanctuary is eerily quiet, the usual nighttime sounds of birds conspicuously absent. We’re in a lush, hidden garden. The air is warm and humid, filled with the soft rustling of feathers and the occasional musical trill. Exotic plants bloom all around us, their colours vibrant even in the moonlight.
I close my eyes, reaching out with my vampiric senses. The sanctuary is alive with the heartbeats of countless birds, but one rhythm stands out - faster, hotter, almost like a flickering flame.
