Chapter 022 The Trap
The morning air smelled like wet dog and ozone.
We left the Thornwood Throne in silence, a grim parade of the damned, the desperate, and the dangerously magical. Behind us, the flower house-with its bloom-filled bedroom and the lingering scent of last night's desperate peace-faded into the mist.
I rode behind Thalren on his massive destrier, my arms wrapped around his waist tight enough to cut off circulation. Not that he complained. Since the garden, since the admission that we were on a two-week timer before his soul rotted out, he hadn't let me more than three feet from him.
Through the bond, his emotions were a storm-front of gray static and jagged protectiveness. He felt like a walking bruise.
"You're squeezing," he murmured, his voice vibrating through his back into my chest.
"I'm holding on," I corrected. "There's a difference."
"If you squeeze any harder, you're going to crack a rib. And I'm currently holding those together with spite."
I loosened my grip. Just a fraction. "Sorry."
"Don't be." One of his hands covered mine where they clasped at his stomach. His skin was fever-hot. "Don't let go."
We passed through the outer ring of the Thornwood, the trees shifting from the elegant, menacing silver birches of the court to something older. Gnarlier. These trees looked like arthritis given form, their roots knotting over the path in ways that forced the horses to pick their way carefully.
Glimm buzzed overhead, riding Barnaby. The giant bee droned like a broken lawnmower, a low-frequency hum that vibrated in my molars.
"Next rest stop in twenty!" Glimm shouted down. "My mount requires pollen! And I require not sitting on a giant insect!"
Zephyran, riding alongside Vahr, rolled his eyes. "The bug has better cardio than you, sprite."
Vahr said nothing. He was riding his own horse now, or rather, sitting on it while his shadow-form flickered in and out of solidity. Every time he started to dissipate, Zephyran would reach out, touch his arm, and Vahr would harden back into something real. It was sweet. Also gross. Also exactly what I was doing with Thalren.
The forest grew denser. The light filtering through the canopy wasn't sunlight-it was that sickly, muted twilight that seemed permanent in this realm. The shadows stretched long and thin, grasping at the horses' hooves.
I rested my chin on Thalren's shoulder, watching the black veins creeping up the side of his neck. They were higher than yesterday. The corruption looked like ink spilled under the skin, branching out, seeking the heart or the brain or whatever it needed to finally kill him.
Thirteen days. Maybe twelve now.
My chest did that hollow, caving-in thing it had been doing since he told me. I shoved the feeling down. We had a plan. Sort of. We were going to the Council, we were going to use my weird battery-powers to fix... something. And then we were going to die.
Great plan. Solid. 10/10.
"Stop thinking so loud," Thalren said. "Your anxiety tastes like tin foil."
"Your corruption smells like burning tires," I shot back. "So we're even."
He turned his head slightly, just enough that his cheek brushed my forehead. "We'll find a way, Aria."
"You said there wasn't one."
"I lied."
"You're a bad liar."
"I'm an excellent liar. Rest is ahead. Prepare yourself."
"For what?"
"For one of the few things in this realm that won't try to eat you immediately. Which makes it twice as dangerous."
***
The forest broke open into a clearing that felt like someone had hit the mute button on the world.
The trees here were white-not birch-white, but bone-white, stripped of bark and polished smooth by time. And in the center of the clearing lay the lake.
It was perfectly round. The water was so still it looked like a sheet of glass dropped into the grass. No ripples. No wind. It reflected the gray sky with such high-fidelity clarity that it was hard to tell where the waterline ended and reality began.
"Mirror Lake," Vahr whispered. He slid off his horse, his boots making no sound on the moss. "Do not look too long."
We dismounted. My legs felt like jelly. Riding a horse is romantic in movies; in reality, it's just thigh cramps and a bruised tailbone. I stretched, my back popping in three places.
Thalren was beside me instantly, a solid wall of heat. He positioned himself between me and the water.
"It's beautiful," I said, trying to peek around his shoulder.
"It's a threshold," he said, his voice clipped. "It reflects truth. Or desire. Usually the kind of desire that drowns you."
I looked at the water again. It didn't look dangerous. It looked... thick. Heavy. Like liquid silver.
"It acts as a transit point for the Wild Hunt," Zephyran added, unbuckling his saddlebags. "Though they usually prefer storms. Still. Best not to go skinny dipping."
"Duly noted," I said. "No swimming. Got it."
The crew set up a perimeter. Glimm landed Barnaby on a large, flat rock and immediately started feeding the bee chunks of honeycomb from his satchel. Vorn and Sylith sparked a magical fire that burned with blue, smokeless flames.
It felt almost domestic. Just a group of rebels and monsters having a picnic on the edge of the apocalypse.
Thalren pulled me down to sit on a log facing away from the water. He handed me a strip of dried meat and a canteen.
"Drink," he ordered.
I took a swig. Water. Blessed, non-magical water. "You're hovering."
"I have twelve days left to hover," he said flatly. "I intend to use them."
He took the canteen back, his fingers lingering on mine. The corruption on his hand was bad-the skin looked papery, fragile, the black lines pulsing in time with his heartbeat. I traced one of the veins with my thumb.
He flinched, but didn't pull away.
"Does it hurt?" I asked.
"Constant background noise," he said. "Like a high-pitched whine. It gets louder when I use magic."
"Then don't use magic."
He gave me a look that was equal parts amusement and exhaustion. "We are in the Wilds, Aria. Breathing requires magic here."
I leaned my head on his shoulder. We sat like that for a long time, chewing tough jerky and pretending we weren't terrified. The lake behind us remained silent, a giant unblinking eye staring at the sky.
"I have to pee," I announced.
Thalren sighed, the moment broken. "I'll escort you."
" absolutely not. I have performance anxiety. You are not standing guard while I squat behind a bush."
"Aria-"
"I'll take the bug," I said, pointing at Glimm. "He's small, he flies, and he has a stinger. I'll be fine. We're going ten feet that way." I pointed toward a cluster of thick ferns away from the shoreline.
Thalren looked at Glimm. Glimm looked up from his honeycomb, a smear of gold on his face.
"I am a terrifying fae warrior," Glimm said with a full mouth. "I will guard her urination with my life."
Thalren didn't smile. He caught my chin, tilting my face up. His eyes were intense-storm-gray and terrifyingly open.
"Do not leave his sight," he said. "And do not touch the water."
"I promise."
He kissed me then, hard and desperate, tasting of salt and impending loss. When he pulled back, he looked like he wanted to chain me to the log.
"Go," he said.
***
We walked deeper into the white trees. The silence here was oppressive. No birds, no insects, just the sound of my boots crunching on dry leaves.
"Okay," I said, stopping by a large, twisted root structure. "Turn around. No peeking."
Glimm fluttered up to a branch, turning his back. "Please. I have seen wonders you cannot imagine. A human ass is low on the list."
I rolled my eyes and took care of business as quickly as possible. The air was getting colder. A damp chill that seeped through my jacket.
When I finished and stood up, adjusting my clothes, I realized the landscape had... shifted.
The trees hadn't moved, but the gaps between them had aligned differently. Before, the lake had been behind us, blocked by the foliage. Now, through a natural archway of bone-white branches, the water was right there.
Ten feet away.
But it looked different.
The surface wasn't reflecting the gray sky anymore. It was reflecting... blue. A brilliant, impossible cerulean blue.
"Glimm," I said. "Did we move?"
"No," Glimm said, still facing away. "Hurry up. The emo lord gets cranky when you're gone too long."
I stepped toward the archway. I knew I shouldn't. I knew the rules. *Do not touch the water.*
But I wasn't going to touch it. I just wanted to see.
The smell hit me first.
It didn't smell like ozone and wet dog anymore. It smelled like fresh-cut grass. Gasoline. Sunscreen.
It smelled like Earth.
My breath hitched. I took another step. The water rippled, but nothing had touched it. The ripples moved outward from the center, clearing the image on the surface like a windshield wiper clearing fog.
I saw a kitchen. Yellow tiles. A chipped counter.
Grandma Jo was standing there. Facing away from me, cutting the crusts off a sandwich. She was wearing that hideous floral apron she'd had for thirty years. The one with the sunflowers.
"Gran?" I whispered.
The figure in the water paused. She turned slowly.
It wasn't a monster wearing her skin. It wasn't a rotting corpse. It was just... her. She looked annoyed. She was holding a knife covered in peanut butter.
*Aria Elaine,* her voice echoed, not in my ears, but inside my skull. *You're late for lunch.*
My heart hammered against my ribs like a trapped bird. Logic screamed at me-*she's dead, you buried her, this is a trap*-but the grief was louder. It was a physical weight, pressing the air out of my lungs.
"It's not real," I said aloud. My voice shook.
The image shifted. The kitchen dissolved into a patio. A bar.
Julian sat there. He was wearing the blue button-down I'd bought him for his birthday. The one that brought out his eyes. He held a drink, the condensation dripping down his hand. There was an engagement ring on the table. Not the one he gave me-a different one. Better.
He looked up. He had a small cut on his cheek, from shaving. I remembered that cut. I'd kissed it.
*Come home, Ari,* he mouthed. *It was all a mistake. Just a bad dream.*
He looked so normal. So mundane. No magic. No corruption. No dying lovers or world-ending stakes. Just a guy who made bad choices and a life that, for all its flaws, made sense.
I took another step. The water was right at the toes of my boots now.
"Aria!" Glimm's voice was sharp. High-pitched. "Get away from there!"
I ignored him. I looked down at Julian. He reached a hand up, toward the surface of the water.
*Just take my hand,* the water whispered. It sounded like traffic. Like rain on pavement. Like safety.
"Julian?" I said.
"Aria, no!"
I reached out.
The moment my fingertips brushed the surface, the illusion shattered.
The blue sky vanished. The kitchen, Julian, the bar-gone.
The water turned to liquid mercury. It didn't splash. It grabbed.
Cold, heavy metal surged up around my wrist, locking on like a manacle. It yanked. Hard.
I shrieked, my feet slipping on the slick mud.
"Thalren!" I screamed, the name ripping out of my throat before I even processed the danger.
The bond exploded.
It wasn't just panic. It was a nuclear detonation of sheer terror from his end. I felt him moving before I heard him-a blur of motion tearing through the brush.
*ARIA!*
The water pulled harder. I was waist-deep now, the cold biting through my clothes, paralysing my legs. It felt like sinking into wet concrete.
Glimm dove at me, grabbing the back of my jacket. His tiny wings buzzed furiously, straining to lift me. "Kick! Kick, you idiot!"
I kicked, but the lake had me. It wasn't water. It was gravity. It was the weight of every mistake I'd ever made, dragging me down.
Thorny vines erupted from the treeline-Thalren's magic. They lashed out, seeking purchase on my clothes, on my arms.
One vine wrapped around my free hand.
I looked up. Thalren burst through the bone-white trees, his face a mask of absolute horror. He didn't stop at the edge. He launched himself into the air, corruption flaring black and violet around him like phantom wings.
He reached for me.
I stretched my hand out, fingers splayed. The vine pulled taut, snapping with a sound like a gunshot.
His fingers grazed mine. Just the tips.
Rough skin against smooth. Heat against cold.
And then the lake swallowed me.
***
There was no splash. No bubbles.
I didn't hold my breath because there was no water.
I fell through silence.
The sensation was like being turned inside out. The world twisted-up became down, left became blue, time became a flavor (it tasted like copper and old blood).
I slammed into something hard.
My lungs seized. I coughed, expelling a mouthful of silvery fluid that evaporated the second it hit the air.
I wasn't underwater.
I was lying on stone. Cold, black stone.
I scrambled up, slipping on the wet residue, frantic. "Thalren?"
My voice didn't echo. The air here was thin, sharp, and empty.
I reached for the bond.
It was there, but it was... muffled. Like trying to hear a radio station through a concrete wall. I could feel him-a distant, screaming rage-but I couldn't reach him. He was on the other side.
"Welcome," a voice rumbled.
I froze.
I was on a plateau. High up. The sky above was a swirling bruise of purple and black.
Surrounding me, in a perfect circle, were horses.
But not like the horses we rode. These things were skeletal, their hides transparent enough to see the black smoke swirling inside their ribcages. Their eyes burned with cold blue fire.
And on their backs sat the Riders.
They were tall. Clad in armor that looked like it was grown from obsidian shards. Faceless helms. Weapons that hummed with a sound that made my teeth ache.
The Wild Hunt.
The leader walked his mount forward. The skeletal horse's hooves clicked on the stone. The Rider leaned down, looking at me with an empty, slotted visor.
"The Prophet," the Rider said. The voice sounded like stones grinding together in a landslide. "You are exactly on time."
I scrambled back, my hand going to my belt for a knife I didn't have. "Send me back. You-you can't-"
"Luminae awaits," the Rider interrupted. He raised a gloved hand.
Two other Riders dismounted. They moved with unnatural speed, blurring like glitching video.
Before I could run, before I could even scream, heavy hands clamped onto my arms. They felt like ice.
I struggled, kicking out, but it was like fighting statues. They hauled me up, effortless.
I looked over the edge of the plateau.
Far below, miles down, I saw a shimmer. A lake. A tiny, silver coin in a forest of white trees.
And a speck of black and violet raging on the shore, tearing the world apart.
*Thalren,* I thought, pushing the name toward the muffled bond. *I'm sorry.*
The leader of the Hunt turned his mount toward the north, toward a spire of darkness piercing the horizon.
"Ride," he commanded.
They threw me across the back of a spare mount. The world blurred into gray streaks.
And then we were gone.