Page 70 of Storm of Shadows

WereachtheGhostWoods two days later. No one announces our arrival, but no one needs to. Gnarled branches reach for the miserable sky. Few leaves cover them, and the ones which remain are shriveled up. An ominous mist drifts from the woods, sending a chill across me. Never have I seen a landscape as ghastly as this. The thought of stepping into those trees sends fear slithering up my spine. If not for avenging Nolderan and freeing Father, I might be tempted to turn back.

I’m not alone with my nerves. Caya and Juron both look as disconcerted by these woods and Zephyr lets out a squeak. Even Taria’s mask of serenity cracks. Her brows pinch together as she surveys the trees ahead. Only Natharius doesn’t look unsettled by the Ghost Woods. He stares at the trees with a bored expression. If we weren’t mounted on our horses, I’m sure his foot would be restlessly tapping against the dirt track.

“Having second thoughts?” the Void Prince hisses over to me, a smirk dancing on his lips.

The others look over at me. Juron’s expression is particularly hopeful.

“No.” I hope the word doesn’t betray the lie. Then again, it isn’t as if I’m reconsidering entering these woods. Yes, they terrify me, but I won’t let this obstacle hinder my pursuit of justice.

“As you say,” Natharius replies, his annoying smirk not faltering. I briefly consider wiping it away with my fist or flames, but decide he isn’t worth the effort.

I fix my gaze on the eerie trees ahead and urge my mare forth. She only manages three strides before coming to a halt. I frown at my mare and urge her on with a sharp kick to her flanks. Still, she does not budge.

Gritting my teeth, I try more forcefully. This time, my mare takes three slow steps.

A crunch sounds from somewhere amid the trees. My horse rears in terror, sending Zephyr and me flying from the saddle.

The back of my head smacks the grass with a thud. The trees ahead sway, dark blotches forming at the edges of my vision. In my daze, the Ghost Woods seem even more fearsome.

Zephyr flutters down and nudges my shoulder, while Taria leaps from her horse and hurries to my side. “Are you all right?” she asks.

I rub my eyes until the trees stop spinning and my vision returns to normal. “I’m fine, thank you.”

Taria helps me back onto my feet, and we turn to face the direction my mare fled in. The horse is already far away now, galloping over the grassy plains as quickly as her hooves can take her. So much for her being mild-mannered. Though I suppose the Ghost Woods really are that terrifying.

I groan and run a hand down my face. Now I have no horse. Hopefully Taria will suggest I ride with her; I have no wish to ride with the Void Prince again.

But when Taria returns to her horse, she doesn’t grab the reins. Nor does she offer for me to ride with her. Instead, she whistles and slaps her horse across its flank. The beast whinnies and flees from the Ghost Woods, like mine.

I flash the priestess a bewildered look. “Now we’re two horses down?”

“It would be cruel to force these animals to enter the Ghost Woods,” the priestess says. “It is best we enter on foot.”

I’m not sure how much farther Gerazad will be on the other side of the Ghost Woods nor how much time we’ll lose from traveling on foot rather than horseback, but before I can explain my reasoning to the priestess, Caya and Juron are already dismounting their horses and letting them flee the area. Even Natharius follows suit.

I sigh. On foot it is then. I suppose horses would be more trouble than they’re worth here.

With our horses long out of sight, the six of us enter the Ghost Woods. The heavy mist envelops us, and I can barely see my hand in front of me.

The dirt track weaving through the mass of gnarled trees narrows until we have no choice but to travel single file. Taria leads the way, an orb of golden light humming in her fingers. Her magic cuts through the darkness in a way even my most powerful spells couldn’t. The surrounding haze is unnatural, the result of all the dark magic clinging to the trees. Even detecting aether in this suffocating air is nearly impossible, and I’m not sure how Taria summoned enough light magic to conjure her orb. Maybe her blood contains far more magic than mine and so she relies less on drawing power from the world.

Caya is next in line, her fingers resting on the hilt of her blade. Every time a twig crunches beneath us, she grips her sword and glances around at the trees. Since I’m walking behind her, I worry the warrior’s nerves are so taut my throat might be accidentally sliced open if I breathe too suddenly.

Zephyr sits coiled around my shoulders like a scarf, though I’m sure he’d hide under the length of my robe if he could.

Natharius and Juron bring up the rear, with the Void Prince behind me. His expression is the opposite of Caya’s. He may as well be strolling through tranquil gardens instead of the Ghost Woods. Maybe the dark energy helps to dampen Taria’s brilliant aura of holy magic.

After we’ve been walking through the Ghost Woods for what must be an hour, the air cools considerably. It’s hard to believe that we’re only a three days’ ride from Esterra City, where the sun is as sweltering as a furnace. When my breaths come out in wispy clouds, I find myself missing the scorching sunlight of the savannahs.

I wrap my arms around my torso, pulling my robes tighter around me and doing my best to keep from shivering. But it does little to warm me. The frigid wind is unbearable, its touch threatening to turn me into a block of ice. It’s no wonder this forest is so desolate. Life can’t flourish in frozen winds. Only death.

I close my eyes and draw what little aether I can from the darkness, hoping I won’t trip over any protruding roots while my attention is on my magic instead of the path. “Calida.” My magic blooms, and my hands glow red. I press them to my shoulders, allowing the warmth to seep through my body.

Though the spell treats some of my physical symptoms, it doesn’t stop me from shivering. There’s no way to remedy the suffocating darkness around me.

Natharius breaks into a whistle. I can’t tell what the tune is. It’s either elvish or demonic, though it sounds far too cheery to be the latter. Maybe being surrounded by dark magic has improved his usually abysmal mood. Or maybe he’s thinking about what evil lurks inside these woods, waiting to tear me apart. I shudder. Thanks to the dark turn of my thought, the cheery tune now sounds as if it has an ominous note to it.

“Stop it,” I hiss, glaring back at the Void Prince. Despite my irritation, I keep my voice low, not wanting to disturb the deathly silence engulfing the trees.

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