Page 23 of What Lies Within Masks & Shadows

Her limbs went numb.

The north… There was only one other Marked One she knew of in the north.

Rowlen.

Alora’s palm lit with white embers, threatening to ignite. The brickwork of the building began to smoke. She had to get to Rowlen. Maybe she could leap from rooftops, get to the tunnels, run to the?—

The air fell cold despite the blistering heat of the burning city. A voice like eternal nightmares shook the stones beneath her feet, rattling every brick of the buildings. A voice so cruel and vicious and heartless, it belonged in the depths of Firekeeper’s realm.

“My patience draws thin.” The air seemed to suck from her lungs.

Do not move, the voice in her mind growled in lethal warning.

She wisely complied.

Darkness swept across the street as every soldier quaked. No one moved, no onedared. Any ounce of light was engulfed by the billowing night, shrinking away to only the glowing ash on flameless torches.

Through the sea of silver, she glimpsed …him. A rider, adorned in black armor, stalking like a beast ravenous to devour its kill. A chilling gust swept through the street, disturbing his short gray hair, and atop it, an obsidian spiked crown emerged, glistening even in the absence of the fire’s glow. And his face … a thing of death itself, unlike any faerie she had ever seen. Sharpened bones like a beast, as sharp as the pointed teeth glistening under a snarling lip. His cruel expression onlymirrored the black, soulless eyes surveying every trembling, worthless piece of armor unfortunate enough to cower in his path.

It can’t be.

He was a myth. The monster caged inside dreams, a thing of merciless nightmares. Black as the night, turning whispers into screams.He wasn’t supposed to be real.

And she remembered the words spoken. ‘The gray-haired demon of Elysian.’

He had come—for her.

His roughened voice thundered. “Your incompetence has provided the Marked One with an escape. Insulting our High King and making a mockery of his efforts.” Blackened eyes grew impossibly darker, and she tried not to shudder at their intensity. “This will not stand unpunished.”

Something like a crack of burned wood resounded.

Then another.

Across from her, a heap of silver armor plummeted to the street, neck twisted at an odd angle.

Whorls of darkness drifted into the amber glow of the night sky from where the soldier had once stood. As if he’d been shot by an arrow from a great distance, no one had touched him, none that she’d seen.

Another, to the far right, clattered to his knees before falling flat to his face. His neck, too, twisted.

The picture of Elysian nightmares towered in his place, claiming the darkness that menacingly tendriled around him like smoke.

“Find them.” The relentless darkness burst around him, colliding against every surface and body like a rippling explosion, and the torches burst back into flames. He bared his sharpened teeth. “Do not disappoint me again.” And then … he wasgone. As if he had never existed. The space he tormentedwholly empty, offering nothing but tendrils of smoke and shadow.

Chaos erupted with her next breath. Every soldier moved in a rush of sharpened swords and rushed feet. Dividing their lines into smaller parties and splitting into uncountable directions, barking orders and trajectories.

The Marked One—she could see the words taunting their eyes. A game to be played; her life as the prize.

If they believed her to be the prey in this hunt, they were decidedly mistaken.

Alora lifted her head to the north, closing her eyes.Rowlen. I’m coming for you.And waited until the torch light faded, disappearing into the darkness.

The paththrough the city remained difficult, but not impossible.

She was exhausted. The screaming of her legs pleaded for rest that she couldn't risk. Despite the pain, her head was entirely clear. Spurred by purpose and focus, not the stumbling ineptness she carried before.

Each turn in her path, every burned building or charred body scorched her senses and forced tears to cloud her eyes. Still, that didn’t stop her. It only made it even more difficult to attempt a straight path north. And when she recognized glimpses of hope—open doorways or rubble to hide within—soldiers would inevitably be patrolling or dragging a Telldarian by their night clothing. Most times, it was too late for her to intervene. Them snickering; her blood boiling at the horrendous deaths they caused.

Everything the devastation threw at her, she weathered—would weather until Rowlen was with her, and they would escape. And some vital part inside her could feel it. Knew that he still remained whole. Alive. Somehow, sheknew.

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