Chapter Twenty-eight
Taron and I burst out of our cabin just as the gong sounds for a second time. I’m not sure where the sound is coming from. Somewhere beyond the dark stretch of trees to the north.
I finish zipping up my top. The new uniform clings uncomfortably to my limbs, the snug weave restricting movement only slightly. We race across the campsite, one half of a crystal star tucked into Taron’s utility belt.
Around us, teams erupt from their cabins simultaneously.
Gunther hops awkwardly on one foot, trying to wrangle himself into his midnight-black trousers, while Gigi fiddles with their utility belt, struggling to clip it into place.
We’re a mismatched army clad in black, our only distinctions being the gleaming emblems on our brooches, which catch the faint light of the three moons as we converge on the night.
“What the hell is going on?” Cyrus barks. “The final trial can’t start now.”
Savannah pulls her shoelaces tight and stands, swinging her long black plait over her shoulder. “No one’s making you. Go back to bed and get your beauty rest.”
I notice Kara sneaking out of a cabin to my right. It’s Mei and Rhius’s cabin, empty on account of Rhius still sobbing over Mei’s body by the fire pit.
An unopened scroll disappears into her utility belt, and she nods at Savannah. She’s stolen Mei and Rhius’s half of the crystal star. I decide not to call her out on it. Keep the element of surprise on our side.
The two girls are the first to bolt in the direction of the gong. The rest of us follow them to the edge of camp, where a line of six towering arches comes into view. This must be where the trial starts.
The arches look like teeth biting into the foliage. Their surfaces are pitted like slabs of volcanic rock, crumbling at the edges like they’ve been scorched beyond recognition. The arches pulse faintly with the ghostly heat of something ancient. A dragon’s breath, perhaps.
I nervously scan the sky. For movement. Something fast and fleeting. The shadow of a dragon slipping over the star-scattered sky. But the evening is quiet. Eerily so.
“Do we just … pick one?” Gigi asks, surveying the line of archways. Each one opens into its own shadowy path, vanishing into the jungle.
“That one! Quickly!” Kara snaps at Savannah, and the girls bolt for the nearest archway before anyone else can even think about choosing it.
“Those shrews,” Cyrus grumbles. “Out of the way!” He and Gideon barge past Taron and me, aiming for an arch two down from Kara and Savannah.
Beyond the trees, I can hear Cyrus’s voice rising in protest – something about Gideon forgetting to bring a torch, and not wanting to waste one of his precious sunblade leaves on something as trivial as torchlight.
“Which one do we take?” I hear Gigi and Gunther deliberating.
I want to tell them it doesn’t matter. “The whole jungle reeks of something foul,” I whisper to Taron.
A shiver crawls down my spine as I take in the dark energy unfurling from the trees beyond the arches. It coils through the air, thick and malevolent, like smoke choking the breath from the jungle itself.
“It’s unlike anything I’ve ever sensed before,” I add when Gigi and Gunther vanish beyond their chosen arch.
“What does it feel like?” Taron asks.
“Like … a hand clenching around my heart, squeezing tighter and tighter until it stops beating.”
“That sounds terrifying. Are you all right?”
“It’s fine,” I insist, my voice tight. “I can handle it.”
My gaze lingers on the line of arches. Each blistered, jagged one.
There’s no safety in any of them – each archway drips with the same cloud of negativity.
Only, unlike the energy that radiates from people, it doesn’t smell of any one emotion.
None that I can pick up on, anyway. It’s odd. More disconcerting than I’m letting on.
Taron and I veer towards an unclaimed arch on the far right. The moment we cross through the arch, the energy dissipates. Simply … vanishes. The suffocating heaviness lifts from my chest, and the world feels strangely empty, hollow, without any oppressive force weighing on my mind.
I don’t trust it, and I don’t mention anything to Taron just yet. It’s better if he keeps his guard up.
We set off into a sprint, the jungle closing in around the winding path. The trees are tall and ancient, their thick roots twisting and knotting beneath our feet, causing the ground to rise and fall in uneven patches.
A dim, eerie light spills across the ground, filtering through the dense canopy overhead in fractured beams of moonlight. I nearly choke on the thick and humid air. Each breath I take leaves a gritty taste at the back of my throat.
The jungle is alive, and it pulses with sound. The trill of insects. The rustle of unseen creatures moving just beyond sight.
Shadows flicker and dance all around us, everywhere I look. There’s no breeze in the air, but the vines dangling from the trees are swaying, moving timidly as if breathed upon by some unseen force.
I follow Taron deeper into the jungle, our path narrowing as the foliage continues to press in around us.
A thorny vine catches at my sleeve. Then at my leg.
The fabric doesn’t tear, but a stinging sensation blooms across my skin.
I ignore it. Taron’s expression is set and determined.
I wouldn’t want to break his concentration by asking him to stop.
“So,” I huff, when we finally settle into a steady rhythm. “I was thinking … about what happened back there … in the shower house … and the cabin…”
“It was a mistake. It can’t happen again.”
I suck in a breath. It’s oddly painful to hear. Although of course he’s right. It can never happen again. We both know it. It’s logical. But the way he says it, so firm and final, stings more than it should.
“We should keep our focus on the tournament,” Taron says, as though he can read my mind. “Four teams, four halves of crystal stars.”
“Five halves,” I correct him.
He frowns.
“I saw Kara steal Mei and Rhius’s scroll from their cabin,” I explain.
“That means they already have a completed star,” Taron growls. “They’ll be heading straight for the temple. We need to move faster.”
Ahead, a bird screeches. The high-pitched, jarring sound untangles me from my thoughts. Something rustles in the underbrush, and Taron’s eyes flick to the side, muscles tensing as if ready for an attack.
But nothing leaps from the shadows – only the persistent hum of life teeming within the depths of the jungle.
It’s unsettling. For all the danger I know is lurking, waiting, there’s nothing. No oppressive energy, no dark whispers in the air. Just the jungle, vast and indifferent.
Taron whirls, and my heart leaps. He reaches into his utility belt and flicks his wrist, releasing a glint of steel into the shadows.
The blade slices through the air with a quiet hiss before burying itself into the pale bark of a tree. I narrow my eyes as I track the knife’s path in the dark, my pulse quickening in response to the plume of sour energy that suddenly thickens the air around me.
I realize, foolishly, that it’s my own fear.
“What was that?” I ask. “Did you see something over there?”
I squint into the undergrowth, but the jungle remains dense and impenetrable, an assortment of misshapen shadows. Taron stands rigid, listening closely. His chest rises and falls with controlled breaths.
“I swear I heard someone whispering over there,” he says.
“Really? I didn’t hear anything…” I continue scanning the trees, but there’s nothing, just the thick silence between us and the ever-present rustle of leaves.
Then, behind me, a faint, unmistakable sound – a soft patter of footsteps, light but awfully quick. My muscles tighten and I move instinctively. My hand finds my shears in the side of my boot, fingers clutching it tight. I spin on my heel.
“What is it? Did you spot something?” Taron’s voice is low. He pulls his arm back, and his blade releases from the tree, flying through the air towards us and landing seamlessly in his outstretched hand.
I see now that it’s a knife, worn smooth but meticulously detailed. The wood bears tiny grooves that look hand-carved, and I wonder if he made it himself. I wonder whether the blade has tasted blood before.
“I heard footsteps.” I know I did, but doubt flickers in my words. “Like someone’s sneaking up on us.”
“Who? Another team?” Taron’s eyes narrow, searching the empty space between the trees behind us. “Are you sensing them at all?”
“No, nothing.” Frustration prickles at the edge of my thoughts. Did I really hear footsteps? I’m not sure any more.
We pivot in silence, standing back to back, guarding each other as we scan our surroundings.
The jungle feels as though it’s slowly crawling closer, the already narrow path now suffocating us.
Shadows flicker at the corners of my vision.
The glowing lumen flowers look too much like eyes, and the rustling leaves sound too much like whispers.
I can’t discern my own unease from the energy of a potentially ominous presence.
“I have a weird feeling about this place,” I breathe.
“Yeah, and we’re being stupid by following this path,” Taron says. He slides his knife into his utility belt with a click. “Our finish line is the Temple of Stars. No doubt these paths are designed to disorientate us, to prevent us from reaching it. We need a different way of navigating.”
He reaches into his utility belt and pulls out what remains of our soaked, torn and smudged map. He unfolds it, his brow furrowing in concentration as he spreads it open on the ground and studies the tangled web of paths criss-crossing the jungle.
His finger traces what remains of a thin blue line in smeared ink – a river, winding through the maze of greenery.
“Looks like our best shot is to follow the river,” he says. “If we stick to that, we’ll have a better sense of direction.”
“It could work … but what if the other teams have the same idea?” I ask.
“Then we’ll have to be ready for an ambush.” Taron folds the map back up and tucks it into his belt. He stands still for a moment, holding his breath as he listens.
I try to listen, too. Through the steady hum of the jungle, faint and distant, the soft sound of running water reaches us, barely audible but undeniable.
He meets my gaze, and his eyes are filled with a comforting fire. “Water,” he declares with a satisfied smirk. “This way.”