Page 64 of Wings of Ash & Flame
For the rest of the flight, they remained silent when suddenly, her body felt heavy and sluggish. The pull that generally existed in her chest fell like bricks tied around her ankles.
“I think we’re here,” she said over the wind to Dawson.
Cassiopeia Forest was an impenetrable woodland of dark, dense foliage. Beyond it lay the Phantom Gap, an area entirely shrouded in mist, teeming with creepy and bloodthirsty things. Legend claimed those who lingered too long in the forest went mad from the souls who never made it out alive.
Beck’s landing was smooth and graceful. Dawson helped her dismount, and she stared at the ominous depths ahead.
He checked the placement of his daggers and broadsword. She’d completely missed just how armed to the teeth he was.
High-pitched screams carried from deep within the trees.
“Not happening. I refuse to go in there.” Alaire backed away when pain lanced through her stomach. She doubled over with a sharp gasp.
Dawson rushed to her side, his hand running lightly up and down her spine. “Are you okay?”
She wrapped her arms around her middle, focusing on the soft bed of pine needles beneath her boots. Shuffling a step toward the forest, the pain eased slightly.
Are you fucking kidding me?
“I’m fine,” she ground out. “But this thing wants us to go into the forest.”
“That pull is what’s causing this?”
She nodded, straightening as the worst of the pain subsided, though she kept her arms wrapped around her waist for the lingering aftershocks.
Dawson cupped her face, tilting her head up until their foreheads touched.
“Focus on me,” he said softly, his breath warm against her skin. “Not the pain. Just me.” His fingers slid beneath her braid, massaging her scalp as he held her gaze.
The pain finally ebbed, leaving her shaky but upright. The intimacy of the moment made her chest tight in an entirely different way. She stepped back, breaking the contact before she could do something ridiculous—like lean into him.
“I still despise you,” Alaire muttered, turning toward the tree line.
“The feeling’s mutual, Firework.” He chuckled behind her.
With confidence she didn’t feel, Alaire marched into the forest. This better be worth it.
Dawson caught up quickly, Beck trailing behind.
The moment they crossed the threshold, the temperature dropped. She shivered, rubbing her arms for warmth.
Under the cover of the trees, Alaire tried to recreate the feeling she’d summoned before. She focused on the anger she’d felt when that chink within had broken free—clapping her hands together, dragging them down her leathers, waving them in the air. Nothing.
Out of the corner of her eye, a small orb of light whizzed into view, floating before them. The pull inside her practically jumped up and down; like recognizing like.
She tilted her head, studying it. “It would seem we have a personal tour guide through Cassiopeia Forest.”
“Magnificent,” Dawson murmured in astonishment. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”
Her brow furrowed. “You’ve never seen an orb before?”
“I’ve seen an orb,” he said flatly. “I’m talking about the type of magic that led you here—sentient magic.”
“Oh. I would’ve preferred not to be led through a dark, creepy forest in the middle of the night by an excited orb.”
“Could be worse.”
“Debatable.”
