Page 82 of Curse of Thorns
I’d do it again if given the chance, and I’d enjoy it just as much.
It’s hard to breathe as daggers press through my chest. I can feel it, the place she stabbed him. Where she carved a hole in his chest and mine in the same moment.
Hating her is easy. It’s what I’ve been doing since I was barely an adult. And so, I fall back to it, even while knowing I cannot commit entirely.
She’s stolen my heart, and that’s the crime I can never forgive.
Caelynn
Rev is sleeping whenI wake. My body still aches terribly, and my back roars with pain, like a thousand razor blades embedded into my skin that bite every time I shift even slightly.
I press my hand against the wound, and my hand comes away slick with black blood. That’s probably not good. What kind of poison do these creatures have in their fangs and claws?
I pull in a few long breaths and then force myself to stand with wobbly knees. I might be screwed. Rev doesn’t trust me—not that I blame him. And I’m here with no other allies than this tagalong wraith. And I’m injured. Maybe gravely injured.
I lift my shirt and tie a quick bandage over the wound.
“About time you woke.”
I spin to find the wraith dancing over the fire. A hole where his mouth would be opens into an oddly curled smile.
It’s not pleasant.
The sky is only just beginning to lighten, so it’s not as if we slept in. I ignore the wraith and make an achingly slow climb over the stones we were sheltered by, and I find a good vantage point. Down below us is a massive valley of red stone several miles wide beneath a huge set of mountains. A grey stone valley peppered with hundreds, maybe thousands, of wraiths.
“Whoa,” I mutter. “Is this Death Valley?”
The wraith nods. “These are the mindless wraiths,” he tells me. “Two-thirds of the souls who are sent to the Schorchedlands are caught in either of the first two obstacles. They become bones in the Bog of the Dead, or they are trapped by the trees in the Forest of Desires. The ones who escape those common fates are free to travel throughout the lands. But there is little for us to live for. And so, after many years, many lose their hope and, finally, their minds. Those wraiths wander this barren valley for eternity.” His voice is so much more somber than before, and I wonder if he knows some of the wraiths wandering below personally. I wonder if he expects he’ll join them one day.
I swallow, watching the ghost-like wraiths. They waft in the gentle wind, passing back and forth, back and forth.
“We have to pass through them?”
“Yes,” he says, “The wraiths hide while the sun is up. Many have already scattered. You do not want to be caught in the valley at night. As mindless as those spirits are, they will not hesitate to kill a living being that crosses their path. At night there will be so many you cannot walk a foot without stumbling into one.”
I nod, accepting his advice. “Do you know where to find the spellbook?” I ask, not expecting an answer. Even if he did know, why would he help? He doesn’t want Rev to complete his mission.
