Page 62 of Soul of Thorns
“Stop. Where are you going?”
“To find Rev.”
“He abandoned you, and you continue to follow him?”
“Yes,” I say, clearly and determined, as I skip over the stones, wondering what sick horrors are certain to find me in just moments.
Rev
Pain rages throughmy body. Every muscle clenching. I wriggle, trying to gain even an inch of movement, but I can’t. I’m trapped. And I know, without a doubt, that I am going to die.
It’s cold here, beneath the shade of the largest tree I’ve ever seen. It towers over the whole valley. There is a short mountain, streaming smoke into the sky. Somewhere, here, lies the spell book. The book I need to save the fae realm and become the hero I was so determined to be.
The selfish, brash, stupid hero.
My redemption is right there, just a few feet away—and there’s just one thing standing my way now.
The Night Terror.
Or, well, more specifically, her beast. My heart hammers in my chest as I stand face to face with the manticore. The roots of this massive tree have taken hold of me. It dragged me down below ground to some hidden cove where I can see nothing but blackness.
The tree’s roots crush my chest and the ground rumbles, dirt and stone crumbling beneath me. I cry out as the roots pull me down into the depths of the soil.
I can’t breathe. Can’t see. There is only pressure and pain and darkness.
Then, I’m in open stale air but my sight is still entirely blocked. I cough the dirt from my mouth and lungs. Part of me wonders if I shouldn’t just stop trying and let it consume me.
Suffocation would certainly be a gentler death than whatever the manticore or the Night Terror have planned.
The rustling I’ve come to associate with wraith magic sounds before me. “Reahgan,” I mutter.
His only response is nervous murmuring. I can’t see him, but the air shifts with his movements. Though he seems agitated, he’s not nearly as bothered that I am trapped in a tree from hell—literally—as he should be.
I don’t have the breath to even ask him what he’s doing or when he decided to turn on me. Perhaps it was when I fought him. When I flung him into the tar swamp and chose his murderer over him.
Even so, I didn’t think he’d purposefully harm me.
