Page 64 of Through the Wicked Wood

The transformation is like a snap in my chest. A tether being cut in two. Whipping my eyes open, the branch that once was, is now completely frozen. Twisting my palms, I no longer hesitate. No longer deny the gift bestowed upon me.

Wielding the Earth, the pine needles turn to ice. Sharp and poised, hundreds and hundreds of shards aim for the moose below. Using the last bit of strength I can conjure, I twist my wrist and slam the hundreds of shards of ice into the animal’s body.

All that has been given life, shall have an end.

Chapter 32

Sorin

Elora rises from behind the rabid moose and my heart stops. What is she doing? Then, one moment the animal is feral and attacking Sam, the next it’s dropping to the ground. A wash of blinding light overtakes the entire forest just before the moose falls. A thousand shards of ice hover in the air before crashing into the animal’s skull with a sickening crunch. Blood and black rot spill from the moose’s head as it takes its last, short, desperate breaths. I shoot my last arrow, landing in the moose’s neck, letting it rest in peace.

Elora has figured out how to call upon her magick. My heart swells with pride despite the gory scene before me. Despite her distance from me since last night.

Last night.

My heart snags on the memory as Elora moves around the moose. Her golden eyes glow wildly against her sweat streaked face as I take her in. A frantic energy radiates off of her. Her magick fills the air like static. Every inch of moss her boots land upon parts, like water. Carving a path for her to walk. My skin crawls as she passes me by, but I’m not afraid. Curious. But not afraid. I could never be afraid of her.

She meets my eye but only for an instant before turning to the wolves. Without a word, they head to the emerald pool, each step in perfect unison.

Turning to Galen, I see he’s given Jarek a tonic for the pain. Corking the empty bottle, he tosses it back into his pack. “Some bruising on his back, but otherwise should be okay,” Galen says.

“Speak for yourself, this hurts like hell.” Jarek winces as Sam helps him sit up, rolling her eyes as she does so.

“It could have been a lot worse,” she says, peering past me toward Elora at the pool. She meets my eyes again, the same worry I feel inside of me she wears across her face.

“Gather the supplies.” My voice is harsher than it needs to be, but with what just happened, we need to move. Quickly. “We leave in ten minutes.” I hate the way it sounds like an order, but the luxury to be leisurely has long been abandoned. The moment Elora used her magick, I’m certain hunters sensed it.

Perched atop a large rock, Elora sits stiffly, cupping the deep emerald water into her hands and working it over her face and hair.

“Need some help?” I ask, keeping myself an arms length away.

Pausing, she doesn’t look up before continuing with the water. Dipping her hands in again, she splashes her face, blood and rot slick off of her skin and into the pool.

“What you did back there,” I say, gesturing behind me, “was impressive. You saved our arses.” This grabs her attention. Her eyes are hollow as she snaps her gaze to me but still, she says nothing.

“Do you want to talk about it?” I ask, desperation lining my voice. Last night when we couldn’t find her, I almost went out of my damn mind. And now, with the distance between us growing with every moment, it’s as if solid ground is being pulled from under my feet. It’s possible she regrets our time in the cavern. Dread coils in my stomach as I watch her with unease.

“Talk about what, exactly?” she asks, squeezing the excess water from her braided hair before standing to face me. “Talk about how I just killed an infected moose using Elemental magick I didn’t know I possessed? Talk about how hunters are likely headed in our direction as we speak? Or shall we discuss what you’ve been keeping from me, Sorin?”

Her words spill out so quickly, I have no chance to intervene. “You should really consider discussing your secrets in a better place than a clearing in the woods where anyone could stumble.” She scowls before jumping down from the rock. Crossing her arms, she leans her weight on one hip. I must wear my shock on my face, because it earns a terrifying chuckle from Elora. She heard us last night and now she knows. My stomach sinks. I should’ve told her sooner and I’m a fucking idiot for not.

Throwing on her cloak, she pushes past me, leaving me no chance to speak. Heading towards the others, the wolves follow in her steps.

“Excuse me, Your Highness,” she snarls, bumping my arm as she goes by.

“Elora, wait—” She doesn’t bother stopping. Doesn’t bother looking back as I call her name a second time. There were so many chances I had to explain my role in Valebridge, but the fear of her rejection held me back and now I’ve compromised her trust. My heart beats erratically as she joins the others, and despite the swell of emotions rising within me, I swallow them down and follow suit.

“We’ll set off through the bog, it’ll be messy but it’s the quickest route,” Sam calls out as I sluggishly make my way back. She eyes Elora for a moment, but being as she’s the smarter sibling, chooses not to press questions like I stupidly did.

“Looks like the rain will be starting soon,” Jarek chimes in, “so we better get on with it.” He walks with a slight hunch, but otherwise is unscathed from the infected beast.

The silence between Elora and I is excruciating as we make our way around the bog. Every few steps there’s a hurdle to maneuver around; wet patches, sunken moss, rotted branches. Not to mention the theoretical hurdle I’ve created for myself. I’ve messed up and now I don't know how to make it right. She was vulnerable with me. Telling me what happened to her family was not easy, and I blew the opportunity to tell her who I really am. I just couldn’t face the fear of judgment. Couldn’t see the look in her eyes when she found out I’m directly related to the man who had caused her so much pain. Directly related to that monster.

Sam leads the pack around the swamp. Jarek and Galen trail close behind while Elora, the wolves, and myself lead up the rear. “Elora, slow down,” I say for the fifth time, reaching for her arm. Ripping it away, she trudges on through the dark, murky water. “Let me just explain,” I try again and this time she whips her head back to me. Relief is a fleeting feeling as she places both her palms against my chest and pushes me backward.

“You withheld something from me,” she seethes between her teeth, pointing a finger in my direction. “Again.” The last word lands its blow, directly to my heart. I straighten myself, taking a few cautious steps toward her.

“I know,” I say, holding my hands up like I’m a prisoner. In some ways, I suppose I am. A prisoner of her heart, and she is the only one with the key.

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