Sadie
“THIS IS A REALLY, REALLY BAD IDEA,” ASHA SAID AS WE HIKED through the pine forest. “Never in my life did I think I’d be searching for monsters.”
“These ones should be fairly harmless,” I said.
“ ‘Fairly,’ ” Timon muttered.
“Can that even be a thing?” Asha asked.
“They will be good practice to see if the songs work,” I countered. “Unless you’d like to go hunt down a crishenem and pray the songs work before we’re impaled with one of their stingers?”
Svenja shuddered. “Do we even know if any will be there?”
“They say the visturong dwells in the hollows beneath the giant oaks of the southern valley,” I said, remembering the folktale from when I was a pup. “It was said that they surrendered to the Silver Wolves and promised to never leave their giant oaks again and the Wolves let them live.”
“But we all know how Wolf stories get twisted to their own arrogant beliefs,” Timon muttered.
“How about you stop muttering and just talk to us?” I snapped, and he flushed. “And to answer your question, this one was corroborated in the temple of knowledge.”
Nostalgia warred with shame. There were parts of my childhood that I’d loved and missed—the unique scents of the Damrienn forest, the food and clothing, Gods, even the jokes.
I missed the way the language felt on my tongue.
We mostly spoke Olmderian now, and while I was fluent, there was something about the word formations that still felt like I was performing—pretending to be someone else.
I knew deep inside that if we survived this war with Nero, I couldn’t just go back to Olmdere with Navin and live out my days there.
I didn’t know if I wanted to stay in that wagon for the rest of my life, either .
. . I hadn’t expected I’d fall in love with a human, and now that I was, it still left a heap of unanswered questions: Where would we live?
What did we want out of the life we’d been given?
I didn’t know. Ever since leaving Highwick, everything still felt up in the air and I couldn’t figure out where I wanted to land.
The mission kept me going. I just wasn’t sure what my destination actually was . . .
“You okay?” Navin asked, coming to match my stride.
I realized I was practically running and slowed, the anxiety of my thoughts pushing me to a faster pace than the humans could keep up with . . . except for Navin with his incredibly long legs who easily always seemed to meet me wherever I was.
“I’d feel better if Haestas was here.” I’d come to find comfort in that red shadow.
“One monster at a time,” Navin said. “The songs might confuse her. She’s a weapon we can’t afford to lose in an accidental visturong battle.”
“If this ends in a battle,” I said tightly, “I think I would like your giant dragon to be here.”
Navin waved the crumpled song sheets in his hand at me. “It won’t end in a battle.”
“I just need this to work.” I paused at the top of the next hill to let the others catch up. “Olmdere needs this to work. The world hangs in the balance.”
“No pressure, then?” Navin joked. When I didn’t laugh, he continued. “This is just the first of many trials. Calla is headed to Taigos to make new allies, and the Silver Wolves haven’t left their borders; we have time to figure this out.”
He swept a comforting hand down my back.
I was all fire and sharp edges, while Navin was as smooth as a lake on a windless day.
I brought out his spark; he quelled my storms. I leaned into his touch for the briefest of moments until the others caught up to us, and then I pressed on, leading with my nose.
I sniffed out the oak trees, the shifting of the pines to a deciduous forest, and led us straight as an arrow toward them.
When the last of the pine trees gave way, we paused at the line of low brambles that bisected the forest. The giant oaks were ringed with shrubs and thorns as if fences to protect the monsters that dwelled within.
“There,” I said, pointing to the peak of a hole in the earth. Like the air hole of a crab buried below sand, I knew this little opening did nothing to show the true size of what lurked under the earth. “Who’s going to try first?”
“I will,” Kian declared, his tone carrying its usual arrogance. I rolled my eyes as he pushed through the group to the front. He plucked a reedy wooden flute from his trouser pocket and played three notes before his older brother muttered, “Wrong key.”
“Please don’t get us all killed because you haven’t memorized the sheet music,” Asha mumbled from behind us. She stood a single pace behind me like a child hiding behind their mother’s skirts.
Navin offered out the sheet music in his tight grip, but his younger brother swatted it away.
Kian quickly switched his key and started playing again. At first, we thought it wasn’t working; nothing was happening. But then the leaves of the closest oak started to rattle.
“Holy Gods,” Svenja whispered.
I was certain nothing holy was about to happen.
The ground started to tremble, and Navin instinctively reached out to steady my arm.
The ground split, the little hole tearing open to reveal two bloodred eyes from the shadows.
An ashen paw, covered in scaly skin like the bark of the tree, reached out.
It had a catlike face and razor-sharp claws, its skin coated in that flaky white bark as if it might disintegrate at a strong wind.
But the way the ground trembled when it prowled out of its hollow told me this was nothing to trifle with.
From my childhood stories, I had been prepared for something weak and timid, but this beast was something else.
Kian’s song grew light and shaky as the giant creature fully emerged, standing twice as tall as the rest of us. It towered above us, watching with hateful eyes, but neither did it strike.
“It’s working,” Navin whispered with a disbelieving shake of his head. “Try to get it to sit.”
Kian’s tune changed and the creature let out a growl that had us all leaping backward in unison. But its back legs bent; slowly as if fighting off the spell, it sat.
“Sweet Moon,” I murmured. “This might actually work.”
Kian’s music stalled for a second as he crinkled his nose.
“No, no, no, don’t!” Navin called, racing past me to get his brother.
It happened all at once: Kian sneezed, the music stopped, and the earth around us exploded.
I SCREAMED, WET EARTH FLYING INTO MY MOUTH AS FIVE visturongs flew up from their hollows, snarling and snapping their jagged teeth.
Shit.
I shifted instantly. Knives alone weren’t going to save us. Kian commenced playing again and the others started singing the accompanying tune, but by now, it was no use. There were too many of them to control, the sounds of trees cracking and earth tearing crowding out the sounds of the songs.
I launched forward at the first visturong that aimed for Navin. I sunk my teeth into its giant forearm, the taste of its flaking ashen skin making bile rise up my throat, but I tore and tore until bitter black blood came oozing from its wound. The creature squealed and retreated.
I howled and the creatures seemed to freeze at the sound.
The pact.
The visturongs had made a pact with the Silver Wolves to stay in their hollows, to never harm the pack in exchange for their lives. Perhaps they remembered my ancestors and the agreement they had made thousands of years ago. Maybe they would bow to my own songs.
I howled again and the front three retreated another step, but the last two still battled against the pull of the magic.
“Don’t stop,” Navin shouted to the Songkeepers, leading them in their trembling tune, growing stronger at the sight of three of them held at bay.
I prowled forward toward the nearest one, howling and snapping.
Those scarlet eyes landed on me and then past me, searching the forest. My stomach sank when they found no pack behind me—a lone Wolf.
I didn’t know what they communicated to the others, but one minute they were retreating and the next, they were screeching, launching forward at us.
I growled and yapped, trying to pull the beasts’ attention on only me. Maybe I could lead them through the pines and away from the others. But the creatures scattered in every direction, chasing down the musicians.
The Songkeepers broke rank, turning and fleeing into the forest. I heard Navin shout my name as a spindly limb collided with my side, sending me flying.
The ground shook, jostling me over the uneven terrain as the visturong skittered toward me, its bloodred eyes hungry.
I scrambled to get my feet back under me.
Then more music came flying through the forest. It was the sharp trill of a metal pipe. I whipped around to the sound, my eyes landing on a figure on the hill.
Ora.
Their power was immense, clearly greater than the other Songkeepers, the sound so hypnotic, it pulled me in, too. I moved forward, entranced.
“Go home,” the song told me. “All is well. There is no danger. Go home.”
It was an impossible sort of calm. My racing heart instantly slowed. I started moving toward Highwick, feeling the overwhelming urge to go back toward the city of my birth.
“Sadie?”
Home. I needed to get home. All the sounds faded to that one notion: go home. I faintly heard Navin shouting for Ora to stop.
When the song stopped, I felt like a puppet with its strings cut.
Navin appeared in front of me, unfazed by my Wolf. He held a hand to my chest. When I snarled, he retracted it. He whipped off his coat and wrapped it around my shoulders.
“Shift, Sadie,” he murmured just for me to hear. And his voice cut through all else as if he knew how to speak directly to my soul.
I shifted. Bones popping, muscles stretching, and then I was there, crouched in my skin with Navin’s coat draped around my shoulders.
Navin stood close, shielding me from the others while I buttoned up his coat.
When I was covered, I gave him a nod. Only once I reassured him I was okay did he turn and embrace Ora.
They hugged for a cathartic moment, two long-separated friends reunited once more. “It’s good to see you in one piece,” Navin said, clapping Ora on the shoulder.
“You have no idea.” Ora chuckled. “I’m not sure what was worse, the Damrienn dungeons or being stuck on a fishing boat in choppy waters.”
Ora still looked a little green, eyes weary. They didn’t wear their signature painted lips, but their clothing was just as colorful as ever—a mishmash of fabrics and patterns that made them look ready for any stage, as if their entire life was one long show.
I would’ve been more relieved to see the leader of Galen den’ Mora, though, if they hadn’t just had their claws in my mind.
That song still had a hold of me, and I still felt its echoes, my feet wanting to steer me toward Highwick of their own volition.
I wiggled my toes into the earth, trying to feel more firmly planted and less likely to be taken away by my mind.
The visturongs had all returned to their hollows, nothing but upturned earth left in their wake.
The rest of the Songkeepers waved from the distance, calling out to Ora as they wandered over to us on shaking legs.
“The journey here was not exactly restorative,” Ora quipped, their warm eyes finding mine. “But I’m glad to be back home.”
“That song,” I said, looking around the woods. “It was as if I’d been hypnotized. I . . . all I heard was ‘go home’ over and over in my mind.”
“Gods,” Navin said, his eyes going wide. “I had never considered it before.” He looked between Ora and me. “What if these songs can control Wolves, too?”
Left unsaid as I stared at him in horror was the question “What if Wolves are monsters?”