Chapter 14
ISI
We grabbed whatever we could use as weapons. Sticks, rocks, anything with weight behind it. My arm throbbed as I hefted a branch as thick as my wrist, but I ignored the pain. Fara was out there somewhere. We needed to find her before something else did.
Assuming something else hadn’t already found her. Those grooves…
“Stay close,” I said, itching to rush into the jungle to find her. “Watch the ground for her tracks.”
We crossed the open area fast, scanning the tree line for threats. The jungle pressed in on all sides, waiting. Bryson took the lead, and Maddox brought up the rear. The drag marks were easy to follow, furrows carved into the soft earth, leading straight into the undergrowth.
Thick, humid air hit us like a wall when we entered the trees.
Sweat started immediately, making my leathers stick to my skin.
If someone came at me with a blade, the clothing would probably save my life.
But it sucked for walking through the oppressive jungle, especially still damp from last night’s rain.
The canopy blocked most of the morning light, leaving us in a green twilight that made everything appear distorted. Shadows slithered overhead as branches flipped in a breeze I wished I could feel.
Something high and eerie called out in the distance, a sound I’d never heard before. Metal scraping against bone. We all flinched.
Bryson paused, peering around, but the sound wasn’t repeated. Finally, he grunted. “Keep moving.”
Every step took us deeper into a world I suspected would be glad to consume us.
Vines hung like nooses from the branches above.
Thorns caught at our clothes, our hair, our skin.
The ground squelched under our feet, soft and rotten.
Everything smelled of decay and growing things left too long in the dark.
We followed a clear trail. Broken branches hung at odd angles, their white wounds weeping sap.
Leaves had been torn and scattered, some still bleeding green where they’d been ripped from their stems. Grooves scored the exposed roots jutting up from the forest floor like gnarled fingers.
If whatever this was had taken Fara, it had dragged her through the jungle without caring about hiding its trail.
A branch snapped somewhere to our left, the sound sharp in the oppressive silence. We froze, our hearts galloping. I held my breath, listening. The jungle held its breath too, as if it were listening back.
Nothing emerged from the green gloom. After a long moment that felt like hours, Bryson motioned us forward again.
My nerves stretched as tight as bowstrings. Every sound made me jump. A bird’s cry sounded too much like a scream. The rustle of leaves made goosebumps rise on my flesh. My injured arm ached with each movement, but fear kept me going.
Beside me, Kerralyn’s breathing came quick and shallow. She clutched her journal against her chest. No weapon, but maybe she didn’t know how to use one.
Although, it didn’t take much effort to bash someone—or something—with a rock. I wasn’t sure a journal would do much for her in combat. She kept looking over her shoulder, her violet eyes wide with terror. Behind us, Maddox muttered a steady stream of curses and complaints.
Something moved in the canopy above us. Branches shook. Leaves rained down. We all looked up, squinting through the gloom, but I saw nothing. Just shadows within shadows.
Kerralyn stumbled over a root and went down hard, hitting her knee on a stone with a wet crack. The journal flew from her hands, landing in a patch of thick ferns that writhed at its touch.
“Fates, aren’t you clumsy,” Maddox snarled. He snatched up the journal and hurled it into the jungle. “We don’t have time for this shit.”
Kerralyn cried out. Tears streamed down her face as she got to her feet. “My mother gave me that. It’s all I—”
Jaxon slammed into his brother, shoving him back so hard, Maddox fell back on the ground. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”
Maddox scrambled upright, his fists raised, but Jaxon was already pushing through the undergrowth, thorns raking his body as he hunted for the journal. He found it and brought it back to Kerralyn, gently placing it in her hands.
“Thank you,” she whispered, carefully brushing off bits of vegetation and dirt.
She shrugged off her pack and tucked the book safely inside. That’s when I realized all of us but Kerralyn had left our packs back in the cave. Our food, our water, our supplies. But it didn’t matter. We’d find Fara and return together.
The jungle pressed closer. Vines dropped down to scrape across our shoulders. Flowers opened as we passed, revealing rows of needle-sharp teeth. The air grew thicker, harder to breathe. Every shadow became a threat.
Bryson held up his hand, and we stopped dead. He cocked his head, listening, tension slaking across his weathered face. After a long moment that stretched like torture, he nodded and we moved forward again.
The tracks got worse. More debris dragged along the trail. Bark scraped from tree trunks in long, parallel gouges. A scrap of blue cloth—too much like Fara’s tunic—caught on a thorn bush, the fabric stained.
Dirt. I told myself it was dirt.
“Move,” Bryson breathed.
We picked up the pace. The trail led us through a grove of trees with bark peeling like rotting flesh, the tree branches reaching down in grasping fingers.
The jungle sounds grew louder. Closer. A piercing shriek echoed through the trees, followed by an answering call from somewhere behind us. Then the sharp snap of a thick branch breaking.
A low growl rumbled through the undergrowth to our right.
We froze. Held our breath. Waited for death to find us.
The feeling of being hunted intensified. Eyes on our backs. Something tracking our every move, waiting for the right moment to strike.
A massive downed tree blocked the trail ahead. The trunk came up to Bryson’s waist, its bark slick with moss and condensation. Fungus grew from its sides in shelf-like formations, glowing green phosphorescence.
Bryson climbed up onto it and over, grunting as he lost his balance, falling onto his back and slipping down the other side. His scrambling fingers left deep impressions in the soft, rotted bark.
He rose, facing us, clutching at the tree for support, before turning and stumbling forward. His guttural groan rang out.
I scrambled over the log and landed hard on my chest, on the ground.
An arm’s length away from my nose, Fara lay sprawled among roots and rotting leaves.
Her body had been torn open, her ribs showing white through the red mess of what was once her chest. Her limbs lay at odd angles.
Her face was locked in a scream, her eyes wide and milky.
Blood pooled around her, soaking into the earth, already attracting flies.
Jaxon heaved. Scrambling back and onto my feet, I shoved my fist against my mouth, bile burning the back of my throat.
Claw marks scored the trees around Fara’s body, deep gouges in the bark that went down to the white wood beneath. Based on the width, the claws had to be the size of daggers.
“Fraewort.” Kerralyn stooped down beside Fara’s left hand, pointing at the cluster of bright green leaves she held in her grasp. “If I remember correctly, though I didn’t study herblore for long, this one can heal.” Her gaze lifted to my arm.
The leaves looked a lot like the ones I’d found on the cave floor. She’d made it back but something grabbed her.
Guilt slammed through me, a knife between the ribs, twisting. Fara had snuck out to find something for my wound. She’d risked her life to help me, and I’d been sleeping while something tore her apart, while she screamed and died alone in the dark.
This was what it meant to be responsible for lives. Not the ceremonial duties of a princess, but real leadership, where your failures have names and faces. Fara was killed because I hadn’t been vigilant enough.
“We should bury her.” Kerralyn rose to her feet, wavering before Jaxon latched onto her arm.
“With what, our bare hands?” Maddox snarled. He peered into the dense jungle around us, his knuckles white where he gripped his stick. “Whatever did this is probably still out there. Watching.”
Something could be hunting us, tracking our every move, waiting for us to drop our guard. I spun, scanning the shadows, but found nothing but green darkness.
In the distance, a beast howled, a mournful, hungry sound.
Jaxon spun his leather bracelet around and around on his wrist, his teeth clacking together.
“It’s still near,” he groaned. “I can feel it.”
“We don’t have time to bury her.” Bryson’s attention remained on the jungle. “We need to move. Now.”
“Then we’ll cover her. Give her some dignity.” Kerralyn broke leafy branches off a nearby shrub and began laying them carefully over Fara’s torn body. Jaxon helped, though he kept his eyes diverted.
A bellowing cry sliced through the jungle. Another call. Another.
A pack of them.
Hunting.
We stilled, branches still in our hands, and the jungle joined in, going ominously silent.
Taunting.
Bryson backed up, tripping over Fara’s half-covered body. He hit the ground and flung himself onto his feet, panic flashing across his face. His stoic composure cracked, revealing the terrified man underneath.
A growl rumbled through the trees. Too close. Crashes rang out as something moved through the undergrowth, closing the distance between us with terrifying speed.
It was coming.
It was big.
It had already killed once today and could be eager to do so again.
“Run,” Bryson hissed.
We scattered into the jungle, leaving Fara’s body behind.