Page 50 of Children of Anguish and Anarchy

Amari joins me on the beach. She reaches down and grabs a handful of sand.

“Skies,” Amari breathes. Each black grain is shaped like a crescent moon.

Tzain inspects a large skeleton submerged in the shallows. The bones look like those of a fish, but the curved ivory frame matches the size of Nailah. Vines weave through the skeleton like the threads of a loom. I run my fingers through the cracked bones. The fish’s head is severed from its tail.

It’s like the vines have snapped the fish in two.

An emerald forest stretches in the distance, so dense it feels like it would take Tzain’s axe to cut us through. The plants seem to sway back and forth like ocean waves, blowing though no breeze passes through the air.

I dare to step forward, but something about the island makes me want to retreat. With the compass spinning out of control, I close my eyes and inhale. This time when I reach for the girl, it’s as if she’s close enough to touch. I smell her honeyed scent. My fingers start to spark—

“Do you hear that?” Amari whispers. She turns to the emerald forest.A steady hiss rises behind the trees. Tzain’s face falls, and he reaches for his axe. I grab my staff and extend the blades.

Amari steps back. Something slithers toward us in droves. The black sands begin to rumble.…

“Back in the boat!” Tzain yells. “Now!”

We splash through the dark waters, and I pull myself back onto the boat. Amari lands on top of Nailah. Tzain grits his teeth, pushing us through the shores.

Deep green vines lurch out of the black sands like spears. They launch themselves around our boat. One vine wraps itself around my arm. I cry out as it squeezes the staff from my hand.

Amari snaps into action. She grabs my fallen staff. With a grunt, she stabs the vine. The plant squeals as it writhes. Tzain pulls my arm free as the vines take over the boat. They wrap around the mast, squeezing so tight it snaps in half.

“Come on!” Tzain drags me back into the waters. Amari follows with Nailah. Tzain throws me onto my lionaire’s neck, and the others mount. We dig our hands into her golden fur.

“Nailah, run!” I shout. My lionaire takes off. She releases a mighty roar as she races across the black sands. The fog blinds our path as we try to escape. Vines lunge from all directions. They slither toward us like snakes.

One vine shoots up, snapping around my ankle. I hold on to Nailah with all of my strength. My brother twists, hacking at the vine with his axe. I lurch free as the tail whips back into the fog.

“Hurry!” Tzain yells.

The vines seem to triple by the second. They close in from all sides. Tzain’s gaze darts back and forth, trying to find the next vine before it attacks.

“Head toward the forest!” Tzain points. “They’re rounding us into the sea!”

I steer Nailah up the only trail I see, pressing my head to Nailah’s neck as we charge into the forest. Heavy branches pass over our heads. The little light there was on the beach vanishes. The symphony of hissing vines crescendoes.

Then undulating cries shoot through the air.

I snap my head up as silhouettes soar. The islanders move in ways I’ve never seen. They don’t just fly.

They careen.

Thick vines wrap around the forest branches, catapulting the islanders through the air. They twist and spiral through the trees. Their howls echo as they near.

More vines shoot toward us like arrows. One catches Nailah’s ankle. My lionaire yelps as she falls. The three of us fly across the soft soil.

The islanders descend from the trees like giant spiders. Their vines lower their taut frames to the ground. Each woman sports kohl-lined eyes. A wide band of emerald pigment stretches from temple to temple. Like the girl in my vision, they share russet-brown skin. Each wears her dark hair in a long singular braid.

Behind them, heavy paws thunder toward us. Tzain pulls me close. Six brawny men break through the trees, each riding a giant beast.

Black tigenaires…

The legendary ryders circle us in droves. Jagged white stripes cut through their silky coats. A line of serrated horns circles around each tigenaire’s neck like a mane, primed to pierce through any person they oppose.

The leader comes to a stop, a man built like a tree trunk. Thick muscles ripple under a thick layer of sweat. The ground shakes as he drops to the dirt from his black tigenaire.

His brown skin is inked with a series of different weapons. The inked armory travels up both his arms and down his chest. His fingers glow and he goes for the cleaver tattooed on his left shoulder. With his emerald touch, the inked cleaver ripples to life. My eyes grow wide as the man reaches through his skin, pulling the weapon straight from his being.

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