Page 12 of The Sacrifice

8

"Bring her to the Ash Court!"

QUINTESSA

Without giving Qora a chance to stop me, I plunge into the Veil.

Spirit ice branches into my flesh, spearing me with the echo of something sharp. Not quite strong enough to overcome the ghostly hush defining my nerves. The wisps weave around and before me like ever-moving, ever-wandering webs, tangling together. My footsteps are heavier. My whole body is heavier, so it takes more effort, but I press onward, passing through their barrier. I imagine the ghosts keep mortals at bay, forbidding them from entering the Waste, but they are not strong enough to stop the monsters on Hollow Night.

If it were any other night, if the Veil was thicker, I imagine it would be more difficult to breathe. As it is, the air feels thinner. My lungs must work harder to push the air up my throat and to pull it inside. A sudden, cold force slams against my back, and I smile, recognizing Qora’s violent touch. Pressuring me to keep going. Don't stop, Quinn, I repeat to myself as if I can hear her.

Thousands of whispers trespass upon one another. I don’t try to dissect the language of these ghosts, but I listen and appreciate them, nonetheless. After all, it must be dreadfully boring to be a ghost confined to haunt this Veil, your spirit imprisoned for eternity. I can think of nothing worse than a cage for the soul.

A sudden horror seeps into my bones and congeals my heart. Could that—will that happen to me? To us?

I pick up my feet, driving myself forward. Through the ghosts, through the veil, through the thousands of whispers and essences swarming around me. More ravel before me, forming new webs for me to battle. Like cold brushes of death, those wispy ribbons caress my body with their omens. Next to me, Qora hisses. It’s the first time the web of ghosts snaps, giving me a clear path.

Again, my Shadow surrounds me, protects me. Hot tears well up in my throat at the thought of what would happen without her. I wouldn’t have even made it this far. I would’ve been meat in a dragon shifter’s belly with the monsters no doubt picking at my delicate bones.

After what seems like hours, the air thickens, simple to breathe into my lungs. The ghosts thin, until one or two webs remain. A few more steps of walking, and my figure passes through the barrier between worlds. But I fall to my knees, overcome with a wild sense of dread and yet wonder.

“Get up!” commands a smoky voice next to me.

I snap my tear-stricken eyes to my Shadow and gasp the words, “Qora, did you just...talk?”

* * *

“Of course, I can talk, you simpering, mad little fool!” retorts Qora, those amber pricks growing to a fervent glow.

Stumbling to my feet, I practically pounce, squealing with delight, my rabid pulse galloping from her first words to me.

“Oh, confound it all, you crackbrained cuckoo!” She shoves me off her, and I land with an awkward tumble with my bottom in the dirt. “Your ass looks better below me, Quintessa.”

I shake my head with a pained laugh, my voice cracking from emotion. “I’ve been waiting twenty years for you to talk! Your voice is so beautiful, just like I imagined.”

A huff leaves Qora’s mouth, and she paces before me. “Oh, yes, I’m certain I exceed all expectations.”

“You do!” I pop up and peck her cheek before she may turn.

She thrashes with the air, but I’ve moved away by then. “Out of all the mortals I get stuck with, it had to be one as daft and silly as a booby flying upside down.”

“You say the loveliest things, Qora.”

She blows a raspberry at me, and I’m certain if she could roll her eyes, she would. “If I’d known we could talk in the Waste, I might have tried this sooner.”

“You may come to regret that.” She gestures to the landscape before us.

Dread drags itself down my throat to tumble in my stomach. Only a true fool would laugh at the sight before him. Black ivy, woven with petrified corpses, creeps over houses as ruined as rotting carcasses. Thousands swarm the scorched hillsides, roaming and spiraling to a bedrock foundation upon which sits a dark castle. From this distance, I can’t make out what substance it’s made of, but it reminds me of iron.

Nothing grows here. Not one flower, plant, tree, or so much as a thorn.

Limbs trembling, I take a step forward. My naked feet brush the ash and cinders sweeping across the ground. Layers of black dust mantle the ground. Shadow flier birds circle the dark haze of sky above my head, their shrill cries curdling my blood. I freeze at the baying of Waste wolves in the distance. Qora mutters incomprehensible words under her breath.

Taking a deep breath to steel my nerves, I step forward again. Something spindly and hard closes around my ankle, and I yelp, jumping out of the way. Whatever it is doesn’t relinquish its hold, so I end up sprawled on the ground again, sending little whirlwinds of ash and dust swirling around me. Once I narrow my eyes and get a closer look, I clamp my hands on my mouth to swallow the sounds of my shriek. Qora growls at the bony, skeleton hand gripping my ankle while I pry it off my skin as quickly as I can, scrambling backward. More corpse hands claw through the ash, straining for me as if drawn to my blood.

Rushing to my feet, I hurl my body forward, scanning the ground and leaping over any protruding hands. They swipe at my feet and claw at my calves, scraping and cutting and drawing lines of blood. I barely make it beyond these blighted fields of ash and onto the rocky but burnt ground near a petrified corpse house when a new horror threatens me. And surrounds me.

My heart shrivels and plummets to my stomach.

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