Page 12 of Soulbound Shadows: Part 1

The next morning, we set out bright and early. Isabella had spent the night on the sofa, but one of the pockets of her purse was actually a portal to her closet, so she was impeccably dressed in fresh clothes. Even her outdoor gear was goth, complete with sleek black boots.

We trekked through the woods, pausing every now and then to pass a Thermos of coffee back and forth. It was a cool, sunny morning, and it was early enough that the dew was still burning off the fallen leaves. The morning light shone down through coppery autumn leaves, and the birds overhead sang cheerful arguments at each other. I caught Isabella’s arm and pointed through the trees to the small shape of a porcupine snuffling though a patch of wintergreen. She caught my eye with the giddy grin of a dyed-in-the-wool city person seeing wildlife up close, and I couldn’t help but return the exact same smile. We watched silently as the spiky little creature shuffled into a hollow log before we kept moving.

For a while, I forgot myself. I was just on a hike with my friend, looking at the changing foliage, and enjoying the crunch of pale bark underfoot. Then, abruptly, it was impossible to ignore what we were really here for.

The border between the Valley of the Forgotten and the regular forest was impossible to miss. The difference was as stark as leaving a nice warm building and stepping into a snowstorm. Whatever made up the core of the Valley, it clearly didn’t bother with camouflage, or with luring its prey in slowly. It was an apex predator. By the time you’d set foot in its territory, you were already lost. Crossing over the threshold felt like walking into a spider web in the dark but times a thousand. The trees had glossy leaves, such a dark green they were almost black, and they hung with waxy white berries on red stems. The fruit let out a rancid, sickly-sweet smell that made me queasy. It was almost like we’d stumbled into a photo negative, the pale-barked and golden-leafed trees we’d passed before suddenly replaced with tangled black branches and dark foliage. The birdsong that had been a constant since we started the hike was gone all at once, as though even sounds knew better than to come here.

The trees grew so close together, it was almost impossible to see the sky. The fragments I managed to see through the thick leaves were dim. Either it had suddenly gotten a hell of a lot cloudier, or the magic of this place was blocking out the sun.

“This is… not a good place,” I said. Massive understatement.

“Yeah,” Isabella said. She looked tenser than I’d ever seen her. “You can say that again. Come on… I’m pretty sure it’s this way.”

“You’re pretty sure?” I repeated, a little more nervously than I would have liked.

“I haven’t been here in a long time,” she said. “I was just a kid the first time I went into this place. But trust me, it was hard to forget.”

I followed her down a twisting path. “What were you looking for last time?”

Isabella sighed. “I was looking for my aunt,” she said quietly. “She was, uh… She was a dark witch, just like I was raised to be, but she got in too deep. The power started to take over. She got lost in it. One day, she went into the Valley of the Forgotten and never came out.”

“Isabella, I’m so sorry. I had no idea.”

“I don’t really talk about it a lot,” she said, giving a one-shouldered shrug. “But it’s why I stopped going down the dark magic path.”

“Did you ever manage to find her?” I asked softly. “Your aunt.”

Isabella’s jaw clenched. “No. What I found wasn’t her anymore. Come on. We need to keep moving.”

I wasn’t sure how long we walked. Space seemed fluid and unreliable in the Valley, and I got the feeling I shouldn’t put too much faith in my senses. We passed a stream of rusty red liquid swarming with tiny fish. Fragments of an old, crumbling stone wall were slowly being covered by moss, but every stone I could see had a face carved into it. Deeper in the forest, a small hill shifted slowly as if it was breathing. A throbbing started in my temples, and my breakfast was threatening to make a second appearance.

“I don’t feel so good,” I said.

Isabella’s eyes went wide when she turned back to look at me. “Shit. The Valley’s trying to feed from you. Here, quick, give me your hand.” She grabbed a little glass jar from her purse and began to trace patterns on the back of my hand with the thick yellow paste inside. “Golden root, frankincense, and rue. This should help ward it off.” She murmured a few words close to my knuckles, and the paste started to warm up. The pain in my skull faded, and my stomach began to settle.

“Thanks,” I said.

“I would’ve put it on you earlier, but it usually takes this place a while to start trying to pull magic from people unless they’re extremely powerful.”

“Maybe I’m just tasty,” I said. “Mosquitos always go for me, too.”

We both knew my magic was barely above average. My spell casting was good, and I was clever enough and quick on my feet, but I wasn’t terribly powerful. Marcus insisted that was for the best. Apparently, witches with a lot of raw strength got sloppy, relying on brute force instead of subtlety and precision.

The poultice did help a lot, luckily, and we kept moving. Neither of us were eager to stay in one place for too long. After what felt like hours, we reached a clearing full of flowers the pale yellow of old bones. They came up to our waists, and we had to walk through them carefully, mindful of the thick roots making the ground uneven. At the far side of the clearing was a cliff face, and at its base were three huge slabs of stone that leaned against each other to make a triangular structure at least forty feet tall. A stream trickled down from the top of the cliff, splitting down the angles of the rock slabs. In their shadowed shelter sat a huge figure.

The statue was made of dark gray stone, worn smooth by the elements. It had been carved with its long legs folded underneath it, and it still rose up high enough that it barely fit in the alcove. Its limbs were exaggerated and angular, with over-defined ropey muscles, its face a warped mess of teeth and eyes. It had three mouths—one diagonally on each cheek, and one where a mouth should actually go. The middle one had been sculpted into a melancholy twist, but the two on either side were grinning widely, showing off sharp stone fangs. It had three more eyes than it should have, with one vertically on the forehead, and one on each side of its jaw. All five eyes glowed brightly, casting shadows that made the face look even more distorted. One of its lanky arms was resting in its lap, and the other was raised to its chin, stretching out away from its face like it was blowing a kiss. Strips of metal were wrapped around the stone like jewelry, forming rings, arm bands, countless necklaces, and a jagged crown.

“This… isn’t what I pictured,” I said quietly. It didn’t feel right to speak up.

“I can’t be certain, but I’m pretty sure it’s gotten worse since the last time I saw it,” Isabella murmured back.

“Where do you think the prophecy is hidden?” I asked.

“The book didn’t say. I guess we should… search it?” she said.

We both stared at the statue.

“I really don’t want to touch that thing,” I admitted.

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