Page 10 of The Realm That Falls to Her

A sound echoes through Interra. A throaty snuffling from somewhere in the shadows. My blood runs cold as I remember what Destan said about the monsters of this place.

I’m definitely not alone in here.

My hand goes to my sword, but the sound is already fading, and I decide it’s safest to just keep moving. Hopefully, whatever’s out there won’t cross my path.

Some of the strange shadow scenes I pass are unknown to me—stretches of countryside or villages I don’t recognize, but others startle me with their familiarity: a section of the Seelie palace, or the Unseelie mountain court. Styrland is here too—though I haven’t traveled that as widely as Faerie. There’s an area of trees that looks like the Kilda to me, and the front of a castle that I’m sure is Albrecht’s. Every single one tapers away into the gloom like an apparition, and every one is completely devoid of life. There’s not a person or animal to be seen. It’s like they’re ghosts, I realize. Mirages of the realms that sit either side of this place.

The pain of the bond is almost down to a twinge now, and my heart swells with hope. He must be nearby. I just need to keep going. Then something tugs on the chain around my wrist.

Destan and I worked out a system if something was wrong—four, evenly spaced tugs. Not that he could do much with me in here and him out there, but it seemed a worthwhile precaution.

This isn’t Destan.

The chain dances where it hangs from my wrist, like something is deliberately twitching it, testing its strength. I stare behind me, but of course I can’t see much in the shadows.

Then the snuffling sound starts again, closer this time, moving towards me in the gloom. The hair stands up on my arms, and I know that whatever’s following me, I don’t want to meet it.

I run.

Maybe it will do no good with the chain leaving a handy trail straight to me, but I’m not ready to give up my one tie to the Faerie realm yet. Instead, I settle for sprinting, whipping past the spectral fragments of other realms as fast as my feet can carry me.

The snuffling has changed now, shifting into a growl, the snarling warning of something hungry for flesh. But it’s not coming from behind me. No, the presence chasing me has fallen back, perhaps frightened off by what I realize is a new sound drifting from up ahead. Two sounds. One is a beast. And the other—someone grunting with effort—a voice I’d recognize anywhere.

Ruskin.

I keep running through the shadows until I see him. He’s there, alive, but I have to fight to keep from going rigid with terror at the sight of the creature looming over him.

Aside from being huge—easily ten feet, maybe more—it’s unlike anything I’ve ever seen. A bear-like body gives way to a face that’s all teeth, crowding its jaw with razor-sharp needles, and its eyes are so small I can barely make them out over its gaping mouth. Shadows dart around it, ringing its body and reaching out with malicious, black tentacles. The monster gives a guttural roar as it slams its clawed feet into the ground, sending gray dirt spraying and forcing Ruskin to dodge. His face is locked in an expression of fierce concentration as he holds his blade aloft, already dark with black blood. The creature’s body is decorated with oozing gashes that tell me this fight has been going on for a while…but there’s no sign of Evanthe anywhere.

The thought is fleeting, interrupted when a dark tendril from the creature’s body unfurls and swipes at Ruskin. He avoids it with an easy leap backwards, and the creature makes a noise of primal rage, infuriated by Ruskin’s quick movements.

I need to do something. To help somehow. But I also don’t want to distract Ruskin. I take a step forward and almost slip over in a puddle of oily blood beneath my feet. It reeks, with a sharp, unnatural scent that burns my nostrils. The monster’s huge head jerks forward, snapping at Ruskin’s outstretched arm. Its glinting needlelike teeth rip and tear at his sleeve, and I gasp, expecting to see the pink of torn flesh and hear the crunch of bone, but as soon as it's on him, Ruskin tosses his sword into his other hand and drives it into the creature’s face. The blade just misses one of its beady eyes, spilling more stinking, black blood down its face until it drips across its teeth. The monster lurches backwards, and I clamp my hands over my ears as its screeching stabs at my eardrums.

Another tendril of shadow darts towards Ruskin, trying to wrap itself around the arm now visible through his shredded sleeve. Ruskin waves his hand, and a burst of bright light seems to scare the shadow back, retreating like it’s been burned. But the light also illuminates the space, and Ruskin turns his head, seeing me for the first time.

As our gazes meet, I feel this strange world grow more solid around me. The sight of his yellow-green eyes lights the bond within me until it glows fiercely. Even in this dark place, warmth and happiness flood through me, the connection healed after being defined by pain and loss these last few days. Suddenly things make sense again. I can’t help but smile, basking in that feeling, and Ruskin’s eyes widen.

The split second of distraction is enough for the shadows to come for him again.

“Ruskin!” I shout in warning. He doesn’t have a chance to respond before the shadow hits him. It throws him backwards into the gray gloom, its tendrils slithering after him. They crawl across his body, tightening around his limbs like snakes ready to crush the life out of their prey. Worse, they pin his hand to the ground, keeping him from being able to cast magic.

Blood roars in my ears as I’m filled with a searing determination. I’m not going to lose Ruskin. Not again.

I don’t know what those shadows are, exactly, but they’re coming from the creature. The beast is huge, and that makes it an easy target. As it snarls, opening its mouth to expose a hundred sharp points, I summon my magic, lifting my sword and flinging it through the air. It sails like an arrow, and finds its mark, embedding itself deep in the monster’s back, spilling dark liquid across the matted fur right at the top of its spine.

Well, it almost finds its mark. I’d hoped to sever its brain stem, but as the monster lumbers forward, it occurs to me it might not be built like the animals I’m used to. Who knows where its brain is, or if it even has one—or a heart. I grit my teeth, using my magic to push the blade deeper, harder, until the pommel itself is bruising the monster’s skin. It rears back with a horrible scream, and the shadows around Ruskin slacken. It allows Ruskin a moment to free his arm—and that’s all he needs.

He throws more light outwards—several blinding rays at once now—and the encroaching shadows that seem to stick to the creature like parasites jerk away from the glare. Ruskin runs forward, raising his sword, and I have to stop myself sprinting to him as the beast crashes down towards him, flailing with the agony of my weapon still impaled in its back. I worry Ruskin will get crushed, or else have an arm bitten off, but with a face as still as stone, he thrusts his sword up into the creature’s mouth, stabbing directly through its skull.

Oily blood spills down his arm, but the beast’s roar dies with a strangled croak, and it hits the ground with such force that the earth shakes beneath us. My knees get the urge to buckle with relief, but I hold them strong as Ruskin untangles himself from the creature, withdrawing his blade. I watch as the shadows detach themselves from the beast too, slithering away into the gloom—parasites indeed. Their host is dead, and I get the impression they’re moving on to find a new one.

I sprint towards Ruskin, throwing myself into his arms. He catches me, if a bit stiffly. There’s so much I want to say, but words don’t seem like the most important thing right now. Instead, I rise up on my toes and kiss him, putting the force of all my relief and joy into it. We’re together, and nothing will separate us again. I cling to his body, drawing on its hard strength as my lips caress his.

But something’s not right. Ruskin doesn’t kiss me back, and when I pull away to study his face, he looks strained.

“What’s wrong?” I ask.

“There are more of those creatures out here. It’s not safe,” he says, and I realize that perhaps he’s still too rattled by the fight, too focused on survival, to fully enjoy our reunion right now. “Where did you come from?”

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