Page 118 of Trial of Thorns
We still haven’t seen Tyadin. We spent the hours after our riddle hiding from Drake and Brielle deep in the caves, so it’s possible he came in and completed his riddle without us knowing.
I hold out hope he’s still alive, but there is no way to know.
I slow to a walk as I notice something strange. The Glistening Court is supposed to be full of lush green vegetation and twisting gorgeous fresh water streams with healing properties flowing throughout the land. But the streams here are dark, the vegetation is sparse. Did we pass through a portal without realizing it?
“We’re going the right way,” Rev says with a flat voice, still walking forward.
“How do you know?”
We crest a small hill, and he stops at the top. I join him and suck in a breath at the view.
“They want us to see the scourge.”
I blink at the view before me. I’ve been to the Glistening Court many times before, as it’s the closest court to my homeland. I know what this place is supposed to look like, and it is not this.
The miles before us are black and rotting.
I swallow and step forward into the broken lands. The plants beside the open pathway are dripping with black slime. Frozen in death and decay.
The smell bombards me, rotting flesh and acidic magic. I cover my nose with my hand. This is the first I’ve seen of the infamous plague. I knew what it was doing to our lands, I knew what it was.
But seeing it is something else entirely.
For miles, all I can see is death and decay.
“This was one of the first places it hit,” Rev explains. “There will be nothing contagious here any longer, but we’ll see the damage well enough.”
Trees are bent and twisted, almost like they thrashed in pain before their death. Their leaves hang low with brown, putrid leaves.
The hair on my arms and neck stands up straight as we walk slowly through the damage. “What does it do to fae it affects?” I know most of the victims have been the elderly and children.
“It eats you alive,” he says. “It starts with a fever, an ache in your limbs. And then wounds begin to form on your body, black spots where the disease eats away at the flesh.”
I shiver.
“And this is happening to children?”
He nods. “It’s taking a strange path. Instead of spreading out, it keeps its reach narrow—only a few miles wide. It moves south, then north, then east, then west, in an almost zigzag pattern, like it’s searching for something. Or just teasing us. Hitting where we don’t expect it, then moving on methodically.”
“Like it’s alive.”
I bend down to examine a fern bush whose leaves have flopped onto the path, unable to keep itself up. If this was the first place it hit, it’s been what? Two years? How are these plants still here?
“It’s a curse,” he says. “Something is controlling it, so in a way—it is.”
“Who?”
“The High Court is said to know, but they haven’t made it public knowledge, and my father—” He pauses, as if remembering the man he calls father is not. He swallows. “My father tells me nothing. The sorcerer responsible is likely inside the Schorchedlands.”
“So, the winner of the trials will have to defeat him to stop it.”
“Possibly. They say the ‘cure’ is there. It’s possible we’ll need to do both—undo the spell and kill the sorcerer so he doesn’t begin a new curse.”
“What’s the end game? We’re assuming the High Court knows what this is all about, but it would certainly be helpful to know.”
“Maybe they’ll tell the winner.”
I raise my eyebrows. “Maybe.” But if my intuition is telling me anything in this moment, it’s that the High Court knows less than we think they do.
