Page 94 of Realm of Nightmares
Treading farther across the marsh-like ground, Maeve tried not to focus on the stories Laurel had told her. She didn’t want to dwell upon the terrifying legends that would keep her awake at night. Instead, she centered herself on the mundane, the pleasant.
The leaves overhead shifted and stirred, disrupted by the bitter wind whispering through the trees. It carved its way through the hollow trunks, keening like the wails of lost souls. Beneath it all continued the faint beating of a pulse. Low and steady.
Goosebumps pebbled over her flesh, and she tugged her cloak further around her, burying herself in its warmth.
Leaves crunched softly beneath her feet, filling her mind with long forgotten memories. Blazing bonfires and sensual dances. Lively music and puffs of pink smoke. Majestic mountains and crashing falls. The embrace of a practiced lover.
Maeve paused, hesitant.
She glanced around her, certain she was still going the right way, but curious if the forest was playing tricks on her. It wouldn’t surprise her in the least.
Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out the map Laurel had drawn for her. According to her directions, there should’ve been a path through an archway of trees. No, not trees. Vines. There was supposed to be a footpath overcrowded by twisted, dense vines strangling the trunks of trees, mangling the branches so they bent and curved, shaping an entrance.
But there was nothing like that here.
Just more of the same irksome trees that seemed to watch her every movement, track her every breath.
She shoved the map back into her pocket and started off in what she hoped was the right direction, but the tip of her boot caught on an overgrown root, and she tripped. Maeve tossed her hands out in front of her to catch her balance, wincing as her knees slammed into the ground and something sharp sliced the inside of her palm. She should’ve been grateful to fall on a pile of leaves instead of rocks, but she didn’t think the moss-covered earth would be so painful.
Hissing, Maeve sat back on her heels and inspected her injury. Crimson seeped from the wound, sliding down her wrist, dripping steadily onto the ground.
“Seven hells,” she muttered, only slightly relieved when the healing magic of her blood churned to life, coursing through her to heal the gash on her skin.
But where her blood dripped onto the forest floor, deep red roses bloomed.
Maeve scrambled back, away from the strange flowers. More leaves pierced and prodded her calves and backside. She clutched her hand to her chest, panting, and that was when her gaze caught sight of what was spread beneath her.
It wasn’t leaves that crunched beneath her boots.
It was bones.
Maeve swallowed her scream and leapt to her feet. No matter how hard she tried to control the rapid beating of her heart, her chest rose and fell in quickened, labored breaths. She couldn’t get enough air.
Calm, she pleaded with herself.
Remain calm.
She’d suffered worse. Survived worse.
Maybe these weren’t bones. Maybe there were just thin slabs of graying stone that were eerily similar to the shape and size of skeletons. But she was in the heart of the Spine now, and doubt crept in, suffocating her.
Over the unfaltering pulse throbbing in the air, thudding louder now, a soothing dripping noise sounded around her.
Plop. Plop. Plop.
Like rain.
Expelling a shaky breath, Maeve sighed.
She could handle rain. It was ordinary. Sensible.
A drop landed on her cheek, sliding down to her chin, then neck.
It was warm.
“What the…” Maeve swiped at the strange substance on her skin. Terror ricocheted through her when her fingers came away smeared with a black substance that resembled rancid blood.
Blood that did not belong to her.
