Chapter 3
Olivia
Emily and I were fugitives, hunted by the demon Balthazar.
He had made his intent brutally clear—when he found us at John James’ house, he swore he’d destroy us the next time we met.
For two relentless months, we had been running, always looking over our shoulders.
My waking hours were spent in a state of paranoia; when I slept, nightmares picked at what remained of my sanity.
But no matter the fear, I couldn’t abandon my quest—finding Eyan Malik before Balthazar found us first.
Days ago, the late-winter snow began falling, turning our journey into an exhausting battle against the elements.
So far, the snowfall was shallow—only a few inches—but enough to slow our progress.
Our horses still managed to forage, pawing through the frozen ground for shrubs and dried grasses, drinking from the streams and rivers we followed like lifelines.
Last night, we camped under a fragile shelter of stacked branches, rationing the last of our dwindling supplies. I fell asleep hungry, frustrated, and haunted by the same question that tormented me every waking moment—
How much longer until we reached the Catskill Mountains?
At dawn, I stirred and pressed against Emily for warmth. My body craved more rest, but we couldn’t afford the luxury. Balthazar was out there, closing the distance, and we needed to stay ahead of him.
A thin layer of ice crystals had seeped through the branches, dusting my clothes. I shook them off and sat up, unintentionally jostling Emily.
“Can’t we sleep a little longer?” she mumbled. “What’s the point? We keep going in circles.”
I arched an eyebrow at her, irritation lurking beneath my exhaustion. She lay curled beneath the furs, her back to me—lately, her complaints had constantly tested my patience.
“No, Em,” I said. “We’re not going in circles. We’re heading north. To the Catskills.”
“Well, I haven’t seen them yet. Have you?” Emily flopped onto her back, flinging the hide from her head impatiently before shooting me a glare.
“Good morning, Emily,” I said, forcing a smile. “Did you sleep well?”
“I haven’t slept well in weeks. Not since we started this miserable journey.” She pulled the fur up to her neck and shivered. “Brrr. It’s freezing.”
“Just stay put. I’ll start the fire and make us some tea.”
She yanked the hide over her head again without so much as a “thank you,” a “yes, please,” or an “I can help.”
I gritted my teeth and crawled free of our shelter.
Our horses stood beneath a cluster of trees, their breath curling in the cold air. The sky remained gray, only a few stray flakes drifting down.
“It’s not snowing,” I called over my shoulder.
“Who cares? It’ll start again as soon as we leave,” she muttered.
Shaking my head, I turned my attention to the fire. I stacked dry branches from the pile we’d gathered the night before, then struck my knife against the flint, aiming the sparks at the waiting tinder. Within minutes, a small flame took hold, crackling to life.
The tea brewed quickly. I poured some into our tin cups, fished a few pieces of jerky from the saddlebags propped against a tree, and carried everything back to the shelter.
Emily sat up, accepted the food and drink without a word, and ate in silence.
After breakfast, we packed up and mounted the horses, continuing north.
The land was blanketed in patches of snow, and we relied on the sun, the terrain, and a map marking rivers, streams, and trails to guide us.
We pushed the horses into a frantic gallop between short rests, the silence between us thick with unspoken frustrations.
When the sun peaked, we stopped beneath a cluster of maple trees—somewhere in New York, if my estimations were correct. I dismounted, dug through my satchel, and handed Emily a piece of jerky. She slid off her horse with a weary sigh, then pulled the map from her pocket, squinting at it.
“I think we lost the route, Olivia,” she observed. “This map is useless.”
“It’s not useless. It’s upside down,” I said, turning it around with a smirk.
“I know that,” she snapped. “I was just seeing if it made more sense upside down.” She scowled. “It doesn’t seem to matter.”
I exhaled, frustration curling in my chest. “Emily, what’s wrong with you?”
She threw up her hands, startling the horses. “Everything’s wrong! My husband is dead. I’m tired of traveling, tired of running, tired of being cold, tired of this whole damn journey!”
I stared at her, taken aback.
“I don’t think I can do this anymore.” She batted at loose strands of hair clinging to her face. “We don’t even know if we’re going in the right direction. We don’t even know if this Malik fellow exists. As far as I’m concerned, Balthazar can take me! I’m done!”
My jaw dropped. “You can’t mean that, Em.”
She huffed and collapsed onto the frozen ground, arms crossed like a petulant child.
My temper snapped. “Look, Em, I’m tired, too. I lost my child, my husband, everything. And at this point, you are the only thing holding me together!”
Emily began to shake. When she spoke again, her frantic voice rose.
“Well, that’s a mistake! I’m so angry! We keep running and running, and everything is so damn hard.
” She threw her arms out in frustration.
“We barely have enough to eat. Every day gets harder. And for what? For someone we’re not even sure exists? ”
I blinked, stunned. I had never seen my sister like this. Taking a deep breath, I softened my voice.
“Look, Em, I know we’re both exhausted. But I also know Malik exists.
He’s the one who helped bring Roman back from Balthazar’s dungeon.
And when I was in the teepee with Grey Feather, we did a ritual with my dagger…
It showed me an image of Roman—alive—with a man standing beside him.
I believe that man was Malik, and he knows where Roman is. ”
I reached out, resting a hand on her shoulder. “I’m so sorry you lost Marcellious, Em. I truly am. But maybe—just maybe—he’s still alive. Balthazar is cruel, but he doesn’t kill without purpose.”
Emily lifted her eyes to mine, and what I saw there made my stomach drop. Her eyes looked hollow, lifeless.
“How can you still be full of hope, Olivia?” Her voice cracked. “I might be carrying a dead man’s child. I love Marcellious wholeheartedly but can’t have this baby without him.”
A few tears carved paths down her dirt-smudged face.
“Oh, no,” I whispered, my hand flying to my mouth. “You’re pregnant? How long have you known?”
“I haven’t bled since before our wedding night.” Her shoulders slumped, hands falling into her lap, motionless.
“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”
More tears clung to her lashes. “How could I? You just lost your child. I was afraid it would break you.” Her voice wavered, then gave way to sobs. “I’m sorry I’ve been so awful. I just… I don’t know what to do. I feel lost. Everything is so hard.”
I pulled her into my arms, and she didn’t pull away. She clung to me, crying into my shoulder, her body all hard angles and aching grief.
But I felt relief for the first time in weeks—because, at least now, she wasn’t shutting me out.
I eased her back and wiped her face with the edge of my dirty sleeve, leaving a brownish streak in place of her tears.
“We’re both grieving, both exhausted. But we have to keep going.
We have to believe Marcellious will find us soon.
I think he’s still alive, Em. He’s strong—strong enough to survive anything.
But even if… even if something happened to him, I won’t leave you.
We’ll raise this child together, no matter what. ”
“Oh, Olivia, what would I do without you?” Emily whispered.
“I’m so sorry for how I’ve been acting. I want to believe Marcellious is alive—I truly do.
But I think convincing myself he’s already dead protects me from heartbreak.
If I expect the worst, I won’t be surprised when I find out it’s true.
” She sniffled. “I can’t seem to carry your optimism. ”
I let out a bitter laugh. “I wouldn’t call it optimism. It’s more like desperate determination.” I glanced up at the sky, noting its crisp clarity. “We should keep moving while the weather’s on our side.”
With a groan, I pushed myself to my feet, my muscles aching from the cold. “Spring is coming soon. I can hardly wait.”
Our horses picked their way down a hill, hooves crunching over patches of ice and brittle grass as they made their way to the stream. We let them drink their fill, dismounting to take several gulps ourselves. The cold water sent a shiver down my spine, but it was refreshing.
As I lifted my gaze from the rippling current, something further upstream caught my eye—something that didn’t belong. Squinting, I shielded my eyes from the sun.
“Look, Em,” I said. “A carriage—it’s on its side.”
Emily lifted her head and frowned. “Oh no. Let’s check it out. Maybe we can help.”
We followed the creek’s edge until we reached the wreckage.
The wagon lay broken, its wheels twisted and useless. The leather reins trailed into the water, undulating like seaweed in the current.
“I don’t see the driver anywhere.” Emily searched, scanning the distance. “Maybe he went to find help.”
A chill crawled up my spine. Something wasn’t right.
I stepped further down the stream, and then I saw them.
Two figures lay motionless across the water, their bodies blocking its gentle flow.
I pointed, my throat tightening. “I don’t think so, Emily. They were thrown from the carriage.”
Emily let out a gasp. “Oh, that’s awful!”
The icy wind howled through the trees as we stood frozen, staring at the tragic scene before us.
“We need to drag them out of the stream,” I stated, remaining calm despite the fear crawling up my spine. “If we leave them there, they’ll pollute the water for animals and travelers.”
Emily shuddered. “Ew! Do we have to?”