7. The Girl with Stormy Eyes
THE GIRL WITH STORMY EYES
W hat is your name, mikros?
The warm, familiar voice slipped through the darkness, slithering and curling into my thoughts, a voice that sounded like home—like warm meals and tender embraces.
My name?
Yes, your name. Can you give it to us?
My name is Ly ? —
My mouth clamped shut at how the air was pulled from my lungs, my voice muffled—as if my name had been swallowed up and swept away into nothingness as it passed through my lips, leaving me hollow and lost, as if a part of me had been taken. The voice didn’t respond, leaving me in a sea of silence.
Mama?
The air was cold and damp as it filled my lungs, and a strange sensation crawled over my skin, something unnatural and dreadful. I was moving… No. I wa s being carried.
My eyes cracked open, lids heavy and fighting to slip closed again. I was cradled in someone’s arms, my body swaying with each echoing step of boots against stone. I couldn’t make out who carried me, their face shadowed under their hood as the dark slabs of rock surrounding us.
I groaned, my body weak, as if my muscles and bones had been lulled into a deep rest.
Sleep.
My eyes threatened to close again.
Rest.
Yes. Rest. Rest sounded nice.
My lids slowly slid shut, but with the next shift of the person’s step, the little wooden pegasus tucked against my chest threatened to fall, and I stiffened.
I clung to it before it could slip from my grasp, and the woody, smoky scent of the boy with steel eyes that lingered in his coat I still wore reached my nose, nearly drowned out by the musty, damp smell of the cave.
He promised he would come back for me, but I had wandered from our spot by the creek. Where was I?
A hiss echoed through the cave as we passed the mouth of another tunnel, and for a moment I thought I saw eyes watching from the dark depths—six enormous eyes, but they vanished almost as quickly as they’d appeared, leaving me wondering if I’d dreamt them up.
“I see you’re awake,” the male carrying me said, the old language leaving his tongue fluidly, but still, I understood them.
There was something dark in his amber eyes, shadowed in the darkness of his hood, something that flared every instinct within me to get away.
I gasped and jerked back, pushing out of his arms. He grunted, and I spilled from his grasp before crashing onto the stone below.
The rock bit into my side, and I twisted onto my hands and knees.
He cursed under his breath, reaching for me as I scrambled away.
The cut on my foot stung as it reopened, leaving a broken trail of blood along the stone behind me.
I crashed into the rocky wall, and my chest heaved as I frantically looked around the narrow cave.
My pulse thrummed in my ears as I searched for any means of escape, but we were deep under the mountain, only the dim light of. ..
I scrunched my eyes as I watched the little floating orbs of light fluttering and flickering around us, with us. They were like fireflies, only they weren’t. They were something else, something that didn’t belong here.
“You won’t get far. Just come quietly, and you won’t get hurt,” the male said, approaching me cautiously.
He didn’t sound at all like he meant the words he spoke.
He held his hands out as if showing he was unarmed, not dangerous, but instinct told me not to trust him.
Mama’s voice danced across my thoughts, drawing back to the present.
Always trust your instincts, mikros . The beast protects us.
I shrank away from his hands. His fingers were decorated with rings, the near-gray skin of his knuckles peeking from his fingerless gloves marked with black ink.
As I took him in, I noticed more ink marking the skin along the side of his throat before disappearing beneath the collar of his shirt.
They were intricate inscriptions like those written in the books Papa read to me in the Archivallia—the old language of the gods.
Movement caught my eye from behind him. There were others like him, unconscious children in their arms as well.
They had all stopped, watching and waiting.
He grabbed hold of my arm, and I screamed despite the pain lancing up my throat. “Come here, girl!”
I kicked his chest, fighting to free myself from his grip with everything I had. The unnatural feeling coiled around me once more. He dragged me farther into the cave. “No!”
“Stop fighting me. There’s no escaping now,” he grunted.
I realized my hands were empty, and my eyes darted to the tiny wooden pegasus lying on the stone behind us, the distance growing with each step.
“No!” I reached for it, my voice hoarse and cracking as I cried out, my vision blurring. “Arion!”
“Rhyas,” a male ahead of us called, and my captor stiffened. “Don’t fall behind. She blessed our passage, but Scylla may mistake you for an intruder if you’re not with the group.”
“Understood,” Rhyas said stiffly, a hint of panic painting his tone for a moment as he tightened his grip on me.
“You’ve got your hands full with that one,” one of the others said, but I didn’t see who, too busy pulling against his hold to get back to Arion. I couldn’t leave him behind; he was the only thing I had left of home.
Rhyas didn’t ease up his grip. He scooped me up, his arm looping around my stomach as he hoisted me against his side. He didn’t seem even remotely fazed as I kicked and hit him. “She’s got fight, that’s for sure.”
I froze as the one he spoke with fell into step at our side.
The male lowered his hood, his shadowed green eyes dragging over me, assessing me, and my heart stuttered when I saw the short, curved horns protruding from his forehead, the delicately pointed ears peeking from beneath his tawny hair, and the thin tail swaying behind him with each step.
“Good. He’ll be pleased with this one. She’ll be perfect for The Pits. ”
The Pits? Dread crawled over my skin as we continued deeper and deeper into the cave. My body cried out, instinct screaming within me.
Don’t go there, little one! Stay away!
I tried to listen to my instincts, tried to get free, but it was no use. No matter how much I kicked and fought, his grip on me only tightened.
The air was unsettling, laced with something sickeningly acrid and slimy.
The feeling intensified as we grew closer and closer to something…
it was something invisible and so alive, it breathed with energy, with power, its presence leaving the hairs on the back of my neck on end, my heart pounding .
A strange sensation washed over me, instinct shuddering and recoiling—as if the beast within me was cowering—as we slipped through whatever it was.
The sensation was weighted, icy, and I flinched as it clung to me, as if the intangible presence was feeling out every inch of my body, down to the furthest depths until I could have sworn it brushed against my very soul.
And then, it vanished.
“Welcome to your new home,” Rhyas whispered, and I opened my eyes, the air halting in my lungs.
We emerged from the mouth of the cave, the expanse of the world before me almost too much to process.
A soft blue glow emanated from the woods surrounding us.
I couldn’t quite pinpoint the source of it, as if the forest itself was alive with the glowing haze.
The colors were brighter, more intense than they were back home.
The air was warm against my skin, soft, humming with something I couldn’t place. Life? Energy?
Magic?
Most of the little orbs of light scattered from us, fanning out across the forest. My eyes widened as I found orbs of purple light floating down from the bows of the towering trees, and the tiny lights that had traveled with us shifted in color, dancing around one another, as if being welcomed home.
Mama had told me stories of little spirits living in the forests of the Godsrealm.
Fates spare me . The Godsrealm. We were in the Godsrealm.
No. I couldn’t be here. My heart quickened, fear winding around me. I needed to get back. If I was here, Mama and Papa couldn’t find me.
My captor’s hold tightened on me before he grumbled, “Better stop fighting me, little beasty. We’ve still got another day before we reach Tenebria, and if you keep making this difficult, you won’t have a good time of it.”
I ground my teeth together, and the beast in my soul—though unable to emerge until my settling —bristled, its anger slipping deep into my chest.
The male carrying me halted without warning, his heartbeat leaping into an intense pace as he sucked in a breath and dipped his head.
I twisted in his arms, and my heart launched into my throat as a hoof, large enough to crush us, settled into the cushiony moss before our group.
Rhyas eased me down cautiously, his free hand held out to the beast.
“Silvash,” the green-eyed fae male with horns said in acknowledgment, dipping his head as well. “I see you as guardian of your domain and respect it. We only wish for safe passage.”
The creature’s eyes passed over him in quiet assessment before it lowered its head, moss and vines hanging from its enormous antlers swaying with each movement.
Its fur—which was no single color but a rainbow of greens, blues, browns, and oranges—was covered in moss.
Its nostrils flared as it drew in a powerful breath, the strands of my cornsilk hair fluttering toward it as it scented us.
“Stay still,” Rhyas whispered, his head held low as he pulled his hood down, baring himself to the beast. I caught sight of his pointed fae ears. “Don’t panic. You’re safe.”
Don’t panic? How could I not panic? I ignored the thoughts and stilled, stifling the fear drowning out my own thoughts, and I swallowed at the feel of Rhyas’ trembling hands.
The beast remained standing for a moment, but finally, it gave a light bow of its head and rose before continuing its path through the forest.
Rhyas let out a breath, his body relaxing. “If you would have screamed, he might have seen us as a threat and thrashed us with his antlers.”
“Or crushed us with his hooves,” said a female with blue and green dragonfly-like wings that looked as if they had been battered and broken. She huffed a laugh and continued along the path.
I didn’t respond as I watched the creature, admiring its beauty and power.
“Santor! Rhyas! Get a move on!” another male captor called out. “No more delays. It took us long enough to collect them. He’ll be impatiently waiting.”
“Aye, sir,” the fae male with horns, Santor, said, and nodded his head to Rhyas before following him, his own captured child tucked over his shoulder, still unconscious.
The light was fading, the sun dipping behind mountains in the distance.
“We’ll be making camp soon; don’t want to travel through these woods at night,” Rhyas muttered as he scanned the forest around us.
“If you behave yourself, I’ll let you walk.
I’m sure you’d like to stretch your legs, and I’d rather not have to carry you all the way.
We can make this a bit more pleasant for both of us. ”
I glanced back to the cave not far behind us. If I could remember how to get back to it, maybe I could escape and make it home. I only needed to pretend I would obey and stay with him. It wouldn’t be long before dark; maybe I could slip away as soon as he fell asleep.
His amber eyes fell to me, and he arched a dark brow. “Well, little beasty? Will you behave?”
I nodded.
“I know you can talk,” he said and turned before releasing me. I looked down in awe at the moss beneath my feet, so moist and soft that I couldn’t help but stretch my toes out and curl them in to feel it squish against my skin.
Rhyas cleared his throat, and my eyes shot to him. I parted my lips but hesitated to speak, my hand rising to my sore throat .
“Did you do something to your throat?” he asked, and I nodded, my mind revisiting the sight of the fires, of our home burning around us as Mama shoved me out of the building before it collapsed.
Tears welled in my eyes. Mama and Papa must have gotten out another way. They had to have been looking for me.
“Here,” he said, reaching for his belt to retrieve a pale gourd with a cork stopper. He pulled the cork out and offered it to me. “Water from the Latrias Springs. It has healing properties. It won’t heal deep wounds, but it should soothe your throat.”
I hesitated, but I was so thirsty, my mouth like cotton. My gaze flitted to him briefly, assessing him, but I took the gourd of water and drank deeply. The water hit my mouth, my throat—bright, cold, and refreshing—and I found myself drinking more and more, unable to get enough.
He pulled the gourd from me too soon. “Easy now. We’ve still got a day of walking. We have to make it last.”
I panted, the water soothing the pain in my throat, and I blinked at the subtle, numbing tingle left in its wake.
“Better?” he asked, tying the gourd back to his belt.
I nodded, my voice a near whisper as I spoke. “Yes. Thank you.”
“Stay close to me and don’t run off.”
I glanced back at the cave behind us, but I nodded and followed after him as he followed after the group.