Page 81 of Claim the Twilight
Outside the carriage, groups of people shuffle forward on foot. Some drive carts loaded with baskets of produce and pulled by mules. Their clothes are old-fashioned: pants, tunics, and boots. Their expressions are wary as they glance over at the carriage.
“We’re approaching the bridge now,” Aster says. “Just beyond this curve in the road. It won’t be long until we’re at our destination. It’s on the edge of the wilds.”
“Great.” I lift my ass off my seat to crane my neck to look out the window, trying to catch sight of the bridge as we make the turn. When I do, my breath snags in my throat. Twin white stone pillars rise, reaching for the sky, and in between is the bridge made of what looks like black marble. “What is it made of?”
“Obsidian, to ward off the evil spirits.”
Harald rolls his eyes. “Different isn’t always evil.”
“The gorge is filled with the souls of witches who succumbed to the surge. Witches that did awful things in life, and now indeath, trapped in this plane, are desperate to do more evil deeds. The wards on the gorge keep us all safe.”
As we get closer, the bridge grows longer, the pillars higher, the gorge wider. My stomach dips. “How long to cross it?”
“Five minutes by carriage,” Aster says. “Longer on foot.”
The carriage picks up speed, and the carts and people on foot fall back. I know when the wheels hit obsidian because the timbre changes, becoming a deep vibration that rolls in my belly.
A prickle rushes over my skin, and my scalp tightens. The bridge is too wide for me to see the drop below, but I sense it—a cavernous maw on either side, aching to swallow us. Snakes of unease form in my belly. I press my back to the carriage seat, breathing hard past the constriction in my throat and the tugging in my belly.
“The feeling will pass,” Aster says, her tone even, seemingly unaffected by whatever is affecting me. “The bridge’s magic clashes with the influence of the spirits below to create a cocktail of energy which can be quite disconcerting to those unaccustomed to it.”
Disconcerting is putting it mildly. I close my eyes and focus on the rumble of wheels and the gentle sway of the carriage. Long minutes pass, and finally the tension inside me eases. The sound of wheels on obsidian gives way to wheels rolling onto cement.
“And we’re on the other side,” Aster says.
This time when I peer out of the window, looking back at the way we came, the gorge stretches out, dark and ominous, and spirals of green smoke drift out of it here and there.
“What are those fumes?”
“No one knows for certain,” Aster says. “But they don’t come close to the bridge or the obsidian barrier that runs on either side of the aperture, so we won’t need to find out.”
The gorge falls away as we clatter down a road bordered by fields and swaying grasses.
“We’re almost there now,” Aster says. “Back to where it all began…”
I’m going home…
The thought enters my mind unbidden, and my stomach trembles with a mixture of excitement and foreboding.
I take a breath and sit back, willing the feeling to dissipate. I might have been Moringa once, but I’m not her any longer. I’m Padma. I’m an Order operative.
This place, these feelings don’t matter. All that matters is finding a way to stop Loviator, and freeing Harald is the key.
Chapter 33
PADMA
Moringa’s cottage is a ruin of white stone, the roof all but gone, windows staring back at me like desolate, empty eyes. The garden is a wild mess of grass and flora, and ivy grows rampant. The only thing standing is a picket fence that at one point would have been a pristine white.
“Only you can unlock the border wards, Padma,” Aster says from beside me.
I glance sharply at her. “You haven’t been here since…”
“No.”
“It’s a little unkempt, but…I would have expected it to be in ruins.”
“Yes, that would make sense, but nothing about Moringa or this place made much sense.” She smiles softly as if lingering on a fond memory.
