Chapter 31 #2
She was just about to ask the Guardian more about his interactions with her parents—partly to make small talk while she waited for Braedan and Reeve, but also because she still couldn’t believe the bedtime story she’d grown up hearing was true—but her stomach got in first, rumbling loudly and reminding her that she hadn’t eaten since before the wraith and the lake monster.
She looked sheepishly at the mage, who chuckled and waved his hand, a tingle of ellixen producing a platter of fruit and pastries, along with a crystal chalice full of sparkling elderberry juice.
Viri moaned her thanks and began to scarf down the food, which only made the Guardian’s chuckle deepen.
“I don’t often have visitors for breakfast. Or any meal, for that matter.”
“Breakfast?” Viri repeated around a mouthful of honey cake, washing it down with a hearty swig of the sweet juice.
Its bubbles tickled her nose, making her sneeze, before she was able to say, “Don’t you mean dinner?
” She glanced pointedly toward the windows but then did a double take, startled by how much lighter the sky was, almost as if dawn were touching the horizon. “Are your windows enchanted?”
The Guardian cocked his head to the side. “No. Why do you ask?”
The food Viri had just binged sat uneasily in her stomach. “Why is the sky getting lighter?”
The Guardian seemed unsure whether or not to laugh. “That’s what happens when the sun rises.”
Viri’s unease grew. “But…the sun only just set before we arrived here. It shouldn’t be anywhere close to rising.”
Understanding hit the Guardian’s face—as did alarm. “Just to be clear,” he said slowly, “what day do you believe it is?”
“It’s Friday night.” Her last twenty-four hours might have felt as if they’d lasted three thousand years, but she wasn’t so confused as to have lost track of them.
A pang of sadness hit her as she realized she would normally be at family night right now; last week’s game of Mage Quest seemed like forever ago.
She thought of Jessalyn and her bright yellow pajamas, praying the young girl had been found and was back home, safe and sound.
“Viridia, I’m sorry to tell you this, but you’re wrong,” the Guardian said, banishing her plate and chalice with a flick of his fingers.
“Time passes differently in the Mistwood, sometimes faster, sometimes slower, depending on the path you take.” He held her shocked gaze and declared, “It’s Sunday morning. ”
Viri’s ears rang, certain she must have misheard, but knowing from the look on his face that she hadn’t.
“What?” She leapt to her feet, the food she’d just eaten roiling within her as she realized the Aurora sacrifice was happening today. They didn’t have two days left. They didn’t even have a full day left. They had until tonight.
Panic flooded her as she all but shouted, “Where the hell are Reeve and Brae?”
The Guardian raised his hands helplessly, having no answer.
Viri spun around once, twice, so overwhelmed that she couldn’t think straight. “Can you use your magic to locate them?” Desperation crept into her tone. “Or to call them back here somehow?”
A shake of his head. “The castle has many rooms spread across multiple levels in each of the different towers, all full of distracting magical wonders. The grounds are even more expansive and equally enchanted. There’s no telling how far they might have wandered.”
Viri wanted to scream her frustration, something that only grew when he asked, “Are the two of them together?”
She had no idea. If Nevarnost was as vast as the Guardian claimed, then Braedan might not have even found Reeve yet, let alone told him they were ready to leave.
“I’m not—I don’t—” Viri was at a loss. She raised shaky hands to her mouth and said, “The comet is coming in hours. We need to leave. We need to plan. We need to—”
“How about this,” the Guardian interrupted in a soothing voice, rising beside her and placing a calming hand on her shoulder. “You go on ahead of your companions, and I’ll track them down and send them after you.”
“But—I—” She looked at the door, praying Braedan and Reeve would materialize, but there was no sign of them, making her realize the Guardian was right. She couldn’t risk waiting however long it might take for them to appear, not when they were now at the point when every second counted.
Unwilling to waste any more time deliberating, Viri gestured to the wayportal in the center of the room and asked, “Does that connect to the city portals?”
“No. Only the roaming Mistwood one.”
Viri cursed, though she was unsurprised, given how secretive Nevarnost was.
But at least the magical map would allow her to skip another journey through the forest. She quickly pulled it from her cloak and pricked her finger with her dagger, using her blood to send the Mistwood portal to the very edge of the forest, right by the necropolis.
Reeve had his own blackmist talisman, as did Braedan, so she would just have to pray that her ring held enough magic to protect her until she reached the boundary of the Southern Obelisk’s wards.
“Here.” She handed the map to the Guardian. “Reeve knows how it works, and Brae has Solace blood. Once you find them, please tell them to hunt down Sage, Ardin, and Soren for news, then meet me in Wynter’s lab. Make sure they know how little time we have left.”
“I will,” the Guardian promised somberly. He squeezed her shoulder once before releasing her. “Best of luck to you, Viridia Solace. If anyone can stop the Reaper Lord, it’s you.”
Viri wished she had his confidence, but all she felt was knee-weakening dread. “Thank you,” she choked out. “I hope I’ll see you again.” Mostly because that would mean she was still alive.
“I hope so, too,” the Guardian said quietly, lifting a hand in farewell.
That was the last she saw of him before she turned and leapt through the wayportal, coming out the other side to find the forest bathed in the first light of dawn, with no blackmist in sight.
Relieved not to have to test her ring, she hurried from the Mistwood into the safety of the ward-protected necropolis, keeping her pace swift as she passed through the rusted iron gates and carved a path between the twisting trees and tombs.
The burial ground was as silent as death, the ancient white graves glowing like specters against the shadowy light of the early morning, their gleam inadvertently protecting her from tripping over any of the smaller headstones or down the crumbling stairs into the underground crypts.
She didn’t have time to sprain an ankle, the urgency she felt to hurry, hurry, hurry driving her forward across the leaf-strewn ground, the only sounds being the crunching of her boots and her anxious, panting breaths.
Viri’s thoughts whirled as she rushed past mausoleums and vaults, the earth beginning to rise as she approached the spiraling white cathedral sitting on its grassy knoll at the heart of the necropolis.
Plans and possibilities flashed rapidly across her mind, part of her wondering if all fifty of the missing children might have been found during the time she’d lost, with the rest of her instinctively knowing that hadn’t happened.
The Reaper Lord had proved himself too clever not to have contingencies in place.
And as much as Viri respected Meera and Darik as leaders, they had no idea who was really behind the sacrifice, or the kind of power the Reaper Lord had at his disposal—both his control of magic and the mountain full of reapers under his command.
She had to warn them about what the Nox and hunters were really facing.
Sarielle, too, needed to know, so she and her council could prepare the city in case the sacrifice ended up going ahead.
Bile rose in Viri’s throat at the thought, but she kept hurrying through the necropolis, the spooky cathedral coming nearer, her skin tingling at the sight while her mind remained focused on forming a plan.
The city needed all the warning it could get, so she would wake Sarielle first and urge her to rouse the council, then she would seek out Meera and share everything she knew.
As for Darik…well, Viri would let Meera update the Nox captain, since his general dislike of her meant he probably had a million reasons to throw her in the Underlock by now—and not just for breaking Reeve out in the first place.
Elders, that felt like centuries ago.
Viri began to feel steadier as her plan solidified, deciding that after Sarielle and Meera, she would head straight to Wynter’s lab to find out what she and Jonas had discovered. By then, Reeve and Braedan should have arrived with news from Sage, Ardin, and Soren, and then…then…
Then they would figure out what to do next.
Another tingle traveled over Viri at the enormity of the task before them, but she refused to entertain the worst-case what-ifs while there was still time.
There were fifty children who needed to be saved before tonight—Jessalyn likely among them—and an entire city that needed to survive beyond that. She couldn’t give up. Wouldn’t give up.
Determined, Viri increased her pace as she approached the rusted iron gates leading up to the cathedral, intending to speed through the last of the necropolis and take the wayportal directly to Sarielle.
But just as she reached the warped, corroded fence, another tingle ran over her flesh, this time prickling enough for her to realize it had nothing to do with her emotions—it was magic she could feel.
But it was also more than that.
Because as she staggered to a halt in front of the iron entryway, she became aware of something else.
Her palm was burning.
Years of training had Viri crouching into a defensive stance and uncoiling her fillium, looking left and right for the reaper who had triggered her mark.
But there was no one in sight, her hand warm but not searing enough to indicate she was in imminent danger, nor that anyone nearby was being siphoned.
She bit her lip, debating what to do. Logic told her to ignore her hunter duty and continue onward, since stopping the sacrifice took priority over all else.
But something inside her was resisting, her intuition whispering, “Wait. Look. Listen.” She heeded that inner voice, sparing a moment to close her eyes and concentrate on her palm.
Her eyes shot open again as she realized what her mark was tugging her toward.
The cathedral.
And it wasn’t just her mark—as soon as she stepped up to the iron gates, the prickle of ellixen grew stronger, too.
But it wasn’t either of those things that made Viri tense all over.
It was the faint sound of crying.
She’d heard something similar when she and Reeve had walked through the necropolis on their way to the Guardian, but she’d convinced herself it had been nothing more than creaking tree branches and the whistling wind.
There was no wind now, the early-morning air still and silent.
Viri’s breathing shallowed as something deep within her urged her through the rusted gates and up a short, winding path ending at a set of weathered stone steps.
The crying had vanished, making her wonder if she’d imagined it, if she was wasting time and should stick to her plan to head straight to the wayportal.
But her palm was burning hotter now, and her skin was prickling incessantly from magic, both convincing her to ascend the crumbling staircase and press her hand to the rotted white doors.
The entrance should have been sealed.
It wasn’t.
The doors opened at her touch, not because she’d pushed them—but because someone had pulled them.
Before she knew what was happening, a black-veined hand was clutching the front of her scarlet cloak and hauling her through the entryway.
She raised her fillium to bring the reaper down, but the moment she crossed the threshold into the ancient building, she suddenly found the cause of the ellixen prickling her skin.
The cathedral was warded, and now that she was inside, the crying she’d heard faintly from outside was crystal clear.
Only, it wasn’t just one person crying. It was many.
And they weren’t just crying—they were also screaming.
Young, terrified screams.
The missing children.
They were here.
But Viri couldn’t do a single thing to help them, couldn’t even see them beyond the lights flashing across her vision as the strength of the ellixen ward slammed into her, blinding her with pain, forcing her to stumble and curl in on herself as her nerve endings shrieked in agony—something that only deepened when the hilt of the reaper’s dagger smashed into her temple.
Her pain vanished in an instant.
Because she dropped to the ground, unconscious.