Page 38 of Where Darkness Dwells

For him, it is. He was invited.

If someone in Utsanek had stood in a precise place at that moment and lifted her eyes, she would have been able to see up the strange tunnel in the shadows. She could have spotted the man’s solitary outline, perched on the tip of the rock, but she would not have been able to identify the wolfish look in his pale eyes.

He breathes in the scent of pine needles and dirt. A second order, “caelaveth,” rolls off his tongue, and the gap in the ténesomni disappears.

The smile doesn’t merely play with his lips—it possesses them. White teeth glint against skin. Thin lines stretch around his mouth to his sharp jaw. Loose, white-blond hair frames his pale face.

“It’s good to be home.”

16. Wehna

WEHNA

COLD SWEAT AND RAIN trickle down my scalp as I try to find the next caeruméni meeting. Before my father left, he had made me repeat the directions over and over again. His patience and the calm pressure of his palm on my cheek had given me the confidence I lacked.

Now that I need to recall the directions perfectly, and I am all that Arvo has left, doubt’s grasping fingertips sneak in and steal what I thought I knew.

I need to be strong.

With a slow inhale, I press on, but I’m lost after several turns. I raise the lantern, spinning in a slow circle as I try to get my bearings. The buildings all look the same—or at least, similarly dilapidated. They tower around me like old trees, wrapped in peeling panels. Terraces reach out, branching toward each other. Lines draped with forgotten laundry lace them together, creating a dripping canopy overhead. Unlike the real thing, this forest is deafeningly silent. It presses uncomfortably on my eardrums, and my pulse fights back with a frantic pressure of its own.

I strain to see something beyond this gallery of decay and the streaks of rain, but there is only the spreading cloak of night heaping in on itself.

For a moment, the plumes of black part. In the span of a heartbeat, I catch a glimpse upward, as if I am looking through a tunnel that comes out at the knees of the mountains.

And feel as though death holds me in its sights.

My limbs go numb, my legs shake beneath me. An attack of nausea distorts my vision. I fight it all as long as I can, but I am weak, so weak. I crumple under the force of the ténesomni.

“Elyon, help,” I gasp, my forehead scraping on the wet gravel.

I can’t do this on my own.

Something heavy and warm rests on my shoulder. A hand. My body quakes, but the hand stays firm and secure. It is real. It exists. My mind latches on to it long enough for my fears to stop whispering their lies in my ear.

“Wehna?”

I raise my head a fraction. Warm light spills out of a doorway in front of me.

“What are yeh doing out here, poor child?”

When I don’t answer, my rescuer comes down to my level with no small amount of difficulty.

My hands find the ground, and I manage to push myself up.

I need to be strong.

“Is this where we are meeting tonight?” I pant, brushing the wet dirt from my palms.

A wizened face comes into view and nods reassuringly. Silvery hair frames it. I cast around in my memory for a name. She recently joined my parents’ meetings, after the Kuvror Erovantus. She has kindness in her eyes. The smell of bread wafts out the open door. I sigh. “Orlagh.”

The old woman nods and slips her arm underneath mine. I don’t allow her to help me up, however, but find new strength to be the one to offer her support.

She leads me out of the streets and into the most marvelous light. I pinch my eyes closed and feel the invisible cords that constricted my chest snap. I can breathe again. Touching a hand to my forehead, I wheeze out a breathy laugh.

Murmurs of welcome ripple around the room. I open my eyes and glance around. A dozen concerned faces encircle me bearing the expression of friends.

Orlagh directs me to an empty cushion, right in front of a truly gargantuan oven. I sink into the softness. The luxurious heat dries my rain-soaked garments within moments. Someone hands me a basket filled with golden biscuits studded with little gems of dried fruit. I listen to the hum of polite conversation around me and sink my teeth into the buttery baking. My shoulders relax.

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