“Right. So, what’s the harm in talking about it if it’s just a myth?” She held his gaze, letting him know she wasn’t willing to drop this.

“It’s a local legend in these mountains. They believe in an ancient entity that calls these woods its home.”

Rhiannon swallowed thickly as he confirmed what Kyra had told her. “What else?”

“They say the mist is made up of the Volskruga’s victims. The bleakest remnants of their souls abandoned when they were no longer of use to him. Banished here to act as his servants. Watching and listening. Searching for those who might please their master.”

“How does the Volskruga choose the souls it wishes to take?”

“Rhiannon, please don’t take this so seriously.” Worry tightened his features as he searched her face.

“How are you going to doubt this myth when your own brother somehow acquired magic and has used it to kill people. If you know that’s real, I don’t see how you can be so skeptical.”

He groaned. “Alright, fair enough. The Volskruga is said to prey on those who desperately want something, whether it be wealth, love, or agelessness. Its price is human sacrifice. And not just one, but many, for as long as they wish to host it. They say that if someone fails to meet their bargain, it consumes them from the inside out.”

“And then what?”

“Well, the myth says it feeds off them until they die. But it isn’t a quick death. It devours their very life essence. They decompose both physically and mentally, being devoured by the Volskruga and these woods until there is nothing left of them but the faintest murmur of their soul. And when it is finished with them, it moves on to find its next victim.” Tristain was watching her closely. “You look like you’re going to be sick. It’s just a legend, one that keeps children humble and grateful. There’s nothing to be afraid of.” He squeezed her shoulder.

No amount of reassurance would quell her suspicions. She just needed to be out of this forest. Out of this suffocating mist.

“If you say so.”

Rhiannon shot Kyra a look.

The other woman shook her head then returned her gaze to the tree surrounding them, studying the woods carefully. “We should keep moving.”

Samara looked uneasy but didn’t say anything as they all shifted into motion once again.

Rhiannon rode ahead. She needed somespace to think.

Thinking didn’t help. She could feel the panic rising even as the fog started to lighten, and the town’s marker came into view.

The other three pulled up next to her as they stared in the distance.

“What now?” Rhiannon asked.

“I’ve made some arrangements for us ahead.”

“When did you do that?”

“I sent a letter toan old friend.”

She only nodded, following him into the town. She allowed herself to be distracted by the sights around her for a few minutes. The buildings were made from beautifully laid wood of the richest color, some of which looked like they had been there for the better part of a century—possibly more. You could see where they’d taken care to restore and preserve the original structure where the wood had a fresh sheen to it and lacked the wear of familiarity. New and old, every last inch was laid with precision to maintain the elegant design the first craftsman had created. As she continued to walk toward the center of town, the buildings she passed were a rich mosaic that paid homage to the land. She’d never seen anything like it.

It was beautiful here, but she’d never felt more uncomfortable knowing that Silas was lurking here somewhere, and possibly the Volskruga, too. She couldn’t even enjoy the sight of the inn coming into view. She didn’t think she’d be able to take comfort here, even indoors.

When they made it to the inn they would be staying in, Kyra took her leave.

“I need to check on my family.”

“One of us should go with you,” Samara insisted.

“Rhiannon said she didn’t think he’ll bewaiting there.”

“If he’s not there already, he might come by looking for you. I’m sure he’s been impatient for your return.”

“Fine,”Kyra relented.

“We’ll all go,” Rhiannon insisted.