Chapter Sixteen - Wilder
I drag myself to the lake’s edge, coughing up water.
It feels like I swallowed an entire ocean to get here.
Liquid burns like bleach in my throat as I realize where I am.
Rain falls from a sky that resembles a fresh bruise.
The droplets hitting my skin are heavier than usual, as if weighted with regret.
The dark clouds swirling overhead remind me of a diluted, murky paint mixture.
The scenery surrounding me lacks vitality. The first thought that comes to mind is that all the joy has been drained from this place, leaving behind only hollow echoes of what should be. Even the air tastes stale, metallic, like rust on my tongue.
Is this Mictlan?
This looks like a fucked-up version of our world.
My fingers sink into the bank. Mud crumbles like ash between my fingers, delicate as talcum powder but gray like spent coal. The water behind me sits obediently still. It’s obsidian glass that refuses to reflect the stormy night sky above.
The trees surrounding the lake stand like petrified sentinels, their bark the color of weathered bones. My skin crawls as silence presses against my eardrums.
It’s quieter than my father’s confined cell in Kratos. At least there, distant sounds of life are present, like the guards’ footsteps, prisoners’ voices, and the hum of fluorescent lights. Here, there’s nothing but the sound of my heartbeat thundering in my ears.
Where the hell are all the ghosts?
“Leigh?” Her name leaves my lips as barely a whisper at first, like a prayer. Then louder, desperation bleeding into my voice. “LEIGH.”
The silence swallows my cry, offering nothing in return. No echo. No response. Just that suffocating quiet that makes me wonder if sound itself can die.
Where is she? Taking deep breaths that taste of decay, I force myself to think logically. I didn’t expect to find Leigh just waiting here—that’s not who she is. She will do everything in her power to find Fynn. She’ll probably try to bring Aradia home, too.
Lightning crashes, sounding like crunching cartilage.
Misty clouds in the distance part as if torn by angry spirits, revealing the twisted spires of what appears to be Traum Castle on the hill.
But this version feels like a fever dream: ancient stone blackened as if scorched by hellfire, thorny vines writhing up the walls like claws.
The architecture itself seems off; towers bent at impossible angles that hurt my eyes to look at directly.
That’s the first place Leigh would go. She wants to find the boy, so she’d march straight into that nightmare, demanding answers from the overlord there. I head into the trees. I’ll find her. I’ll bring her home. The Blades can handle everything else back home.
A noise like rattling chains startles me, and I duck behind a tree as a group of daemons weaves through the overgrowth up ahead.
Keeping out of sight, I watch their serpentine bodies slither across the forest floor.
They are heading straight for the lake. They hiss as they enter the chilly water and disappear, passing through the portal.
I don’t recognize these daemons. Although they are small, they are quick, suggesting they are potentially dangerous.
Dammit. Jax better have received my text.
I take a step toward the castle but pause. What if he didn’t?
“I never thought I’d see you again,” a voice says from behind me.
I freeze. The silence was oppressive, but somehow, this was worse.
“I know you can hear me, Wilder.”
Each word circles me like a predator, the sound simultaneously distant and so close it could be whispering in my ear. My breath comes in sharp bursts, visible in the cold air. I twist toward the sound, peering through dense trees.
“No.” I rear back. “Impossible.”
A woman with purple hair steps into the clearing. She crosses her arms, wearing an annoyed expression on a face that sends shock waves through my body. She hasn’t aged a day.
Selene Mhoon.
The Lunar Witch worked for Chiron Lyra and the Nyx terrorist group.
She was the same witch Leigh’s uncle, Don Raelyn, had burned at the stake.
But she has no burns; her clothes, a loose pair of jeans and a cropped shirt, are in perfect condition.
A disturbing image of her burned body from her case file flashes in my mind, conflicting with the image of her standing before me.
“How did you know I was here?” I demand.
She releases a huff of breath. “Are you accusing me of stalking you?”
All breath leaves my lungs in a hurry. It really is her. The same haughty tone and look of indignation, as if the world is out to get her.
Reality tilts sideways. Selene didn’t move on. What unfinished business does she have?
“Why are you here?”
Selene shrugs. “I was going to ask you the same thing. You don’t belong here, Wilder. Go home.”
I stare, manners be damned.
Selene pokes me in the chest. “Did you hear me? I said leave.”
“Why didn’t you cross over?”
She lifts an eyebrow—as purple as her hair—and folds her arms over her chest once more. “Nothing gets by you, does it, Blade Boy? And why I didn’t cross over is none of your fucking business.”
“Where are the other souls?”
“Around. This is like a hotel lobby—there are several levels below where most souls get sent.” She rolls her eyes. “You have no idea what you’re doing, do you?”
I keep quiet. As horrific as her death was, Selene isn’t a friend. When she was alive, I trusted her about as much as I trusted Chiron Lyra when he claimed he wanted the War Letters to help the Nebula. And look how well that turned out. I should reveal as little as possible.
“Have you seen Leigh?” I ask. She hasn’t questioned why I’m here, which suggests she knows something. She could help me find her.
Through the canopy, the sky darkens further. Rain strikes my skin like tiny needles. I shield my face while keeping my eyes on Selene.
“Wilder, go home,” she says again, more insistent.
“I’m not leaving without Leigh.”
Selene’s fists clench at her sides. “Leigh isn’t here. If she were, I’d know. We don’t get many visitors—not of the living persuasion, at least. Especially not the queen.”
She’s lying. Ravi watched Leigh go through the portal. “You’re a shit liar, Selene.”
She blinks through the rain. “I bet you say that to all the Lunar Witches you used to arrest. What if I told you Leigh is a Lunar Witch? Would you leave her here?”
I ignore the barb. “Selene. I’ve been with Leigh for years. I’m aware who and what she is. Now, where is she?”
“She’s not your concern right now, but you know what is?” Selene’s tone shifts, becoming urgent. “Those daemons that just went through the portal back to your world. Do you know what they are?”
My eye twitches. She’s deflecting, but curiosity wins. “What?”
She smiles—even in death, she’s still manipulative.
“Flesh-eating daemons. They behave like vampires, licking their victims to suck out their life force. They mainly target children and babies, spending their days in cemeteries and hunting the living at night.” Her voice takes on false sympathy.
“Just one lick completely paralyzes their prey.”
I glance back toward the lake, thinking of the wedding guests, of innocent people.
“How do I stop them?”
“Cut off the head, shoot them in the skull—like any snake, you need to sever the nervous system.” She steps closer. “Seriously, you’re going to leave your friends to die. Damn, I had you pegged wrong. Guess you aren’t the hero type after all.”
She’s trying to guilt me into leaving. “I’m not abandoning Leigh in this place.”
Selene opens her mouth, then closes it, her expression drifting as if she’s calculating something. She jerks slightly and forces a smile. “Mictlan isn’t that bad. Sure, it’s gray and dull, but there are plenty of places in the world with crappy weather.”
“You don’t expect me to believe that this place is some sort of paradise.”
“Why wouldn’t you? I have no reason to lie.” But her eyes avoid mine.
“What about the Dullahan? Kosac? They’re reason enough to stay and find Leigh.”
“The Dullahan are horsemen with a flair for theatrics. As for Kosac, he’s just another bored god—we hardly see him.” She is still refusing to meet my eyes.
“Selene.” I approach slowly. “I’m not leaving without Leigh.”
She laughs, flat and humorlessly. “I forgot how stubborn you were.” Then her tone sharpens. “Fine, stay. Doom your friends back home while you chase shadows. Leigh’s probably with them right now, fighting off those daemons. She could use your help.”
Guilt hits like a physical blow. I think of Leigh in danger, being held captive by a Dullahan, or worse.
When I woke up this morning, I did not intend to be climbing fucking trees in the endless rain …
I spin. Leigh’s voice—I swear I just heard Leigh’s voice.
“What is it?” Selene asks warily.
Seriously. When will it stop fucking raining?
“I think I hear her voice. Leigh.” She’s in my head, her voice clearer than my own thoughts.
Selene doesn’t breathe. “That’s crazy. You’re not a Lunar Witch. Only ghosts can communicate telepathically.”
Telepathically? Can this place connect us spiritually because we are both alive? Feeling moronic, I project my thoughts. Leigh, if you’re there, answer me.
Leigh.
Leigh.
Leigh.
Each mental call echoes unanswered into the void. But I know one thing: I’m staying no matter what game Selene is playing.