Her Unending Horizon (Protectors of Jasper Creek #8)
Prologue
One Month Ago
She had watched him unravel for weeks.
Tonight was different.
He moved through the forest like a man who no longer cared if he was followed—his boots barely perceptible against damp earth, body weaving between roots and fallen branches. She stayed back, heart pounding, certain that any second, he would turn, that he would sense her there.
He never did.
Where was he going?
What had finally broken inside him?
Once, she had known him completely. His thoughts, his moods, the quiet strength of his presence. But now when she looked into his eyes, she saw nothing at all. No light. No awareness. It was as if he’d left something essential behind.
Fear hollowed her chest as she followed him deeper into the woods.
He quickened his pace, vaulting over logs, disappearing into shadow. She struggled to keep up, breath tearing from her lungs, skin burning as branches clawed at her arms. She didn’t stop. Pain didn’t matter. Losing him did.
He climbed a massive fallen tree without breaking stride.
She hesitated only a second.
Don’t think. Do.
She scraped her way over, skin breaking, fingers slipping on bark. When she landed, panic surged.
He was gone!
She forced herself to be still and listened.
There!
She ran toward the sound—and stopped short.
The forest opened into a wide meadow washed in moonlight. At its center, he stood alone.
She watched from the trees, frozen.
He sank to his knees.
His shoulders shook.
Then he threw back his head and roared, the sound ripping through the night.
“Why?”
The forest went utterly silent—no insects, no wind—only the raw agony in his voice. Tears streaked down his face, catching the moonlight like silver wounds.
“Tell me, God,” he cried. “Why?”
Her chest constricted. She took a step forward—
And he reached behind him.
Steel flashed.
Her heart stopped as he drew the sword from the scabbard across his back.
This wasn’t rage. This was resolve.
“No!” she tried to scream.
Nothing came.
Words had never belonged to her.
“Please. Stop.” She begged silently.
Her throat burned as she ran toward him, arms outstretched, terror clawing at her lungs.
“No—Kael!”
I tore awake with my scream echoing off the walls.
The sheets were twisted around me, pinning my arms as if the dream had followed me into the waking world. I fought free, breath ragged, vision blurred, and my knees hit the hardwood floor.
“Fuck.”
The sting faded before I registered it.
I scrambled to my drawing board, hands shaking, fumbling for the lamp until light flooded the room. My breath hitched as reality settled back into place.
I knew what came next.
It had taken a full week for Seris to speak to me again—to let me see clearly enough to continue Oracle’s Silence. I grabbed my pencil. This wasn’t ready for ink. Not yet.
The dream was still seared across my vision.
I sketched her—Seris—racing through the Forest of Nightmares. Losing him. Finding him in the meadow. Kael on his knees, screaming at the heavens, sword in hand.
Then the final image slammed into me.
Two Kor bursting from the trees.
Was that how he meant to die?
A final stand? A sacrifice?
I didn’t know.
Every time I drew, every time I wrote, I stopped being Chloe Avery. I became Seris—the mute Oracle—desperately trying to piece together the fate of the Shattered Realms before it was too late.
My pencil hovered over the page.
Please.
Please.
Please.
Don’t let Kael die.