Chapter 16 Annalise
Chapter sixteen
Annalise
Iplay through a million scenarios on what I should do about Lucas and his friends, but unfortunately, all of my options face the same roadblocks, and I can’t find a way to report them. I have no proof that it was him, and between the two of us, only I have a criminal record.
“You’re never sleeping alone again,” Matt grumbles from the other side of my room as he scrubs my wall.
After calling him in a literal blind panic, he’s been helping me clean my room from top to bottom before everyone else wakes up. All of the bedding is stuffed into the duffel bag that I used to move to Scion with, and a plan is set for us to ditch it deep in the woods tomorrow night.
“You should let me kill him already and be done with it. I am sure I could make it look like an accident,” he suggests for what must be the twentieth time.
“We would still be their first suspects if even a hair on his head was messed up.” I remind him…again.
“Maybe we can get a dragon to drop him and forget to catch him?”
My laugh isn’t my own—filled with sleep deprivation and the emotions from the last twelve hours. “Did you really just suggest that we could convince a dragon to commit murder for us?” I struggle to catch my breath. “You really need sleep if that’s the kind of solution you’re coming up with.”
“You're right, we do need sleep. You go shower, and I’ll pull out a uniform for you. We’ll go crash in my room.”
I don’t argue, I can’t. I’m filthy, I stink, and if I were to walk into the halls and someone saw me right now, they’d think I was the girl from the movie Carrie.
When we climb into his bed a short while later, I don’t fight him when he tells me he’s turning my running alarm off.
“Goodnight, Mattey.”
“Night, Lee.”
A normal person would be tossing and turning if they were in my position, and while the tiniest part of me wants to squirm as I still feel the remnants of the blood coating me, I can’t deny that, without meaning to, Lucas actually gave me a gift by leaving the pig.
Every time my mind tries to latch on to when I’ve been covered in blood before, mine or my dad’s, and tries to pull me into a dark spiral, I can picture the slaughtered pig lying next to me.
Yes, it’s fucked up, but it’s what I need to hold onto right now. That, and the sleep that’s calling my name.
Ghost Walkers are the job I know the least about, which—if I’d slept more than two hours last night—would probably scare the hell out of me as we walk into the small, windowless classroom tucked deep in the West Wing.
Unlike every other room we’ve seen, no banners are hanging in celebration of alumni or battle victories, no maps or relics on the walls, just bare stone and the faint chill of a place that doesn’t want to be remembered.
A few folding tables and the most basic metal chairs are arranged in rows, giving off serious rented-by-the-hour energy…nothing like the polished lecture halls our other classes are held in.
We’re among the first to arrive and take seats in the front row on the right side. The room fills slowly, and we wait. And wait. Class was supposed to start ten minutes ago, but there’s still no instructor. By the fifteen-minute mark, a few students give up and leave.
At twenty minutes, the door behind us opens. A Bravo recruit steps inside, silent and expressionless. He walks straight to the “instructor’s table” at the front, drops a handful of envelopes onto it, and walks right back out, ignoring the few questions thrown his way.
Five more minutes pass. Nothing.
Matt and I exchange a look, the kind that confirms we are thinking the same thing, and together, we head to the front of the class.
Sasha, ever the rule follower, hisses at us to sit down and wait.
A few students mutter warnings about touching the instructor’s desk, but there’s been something off since we walked through the door: the silence, the waiting, the Bravo recruit…it all tells me we’re not breaking rules.
We’re solving a puzzle.
Matt picks up one of the envelopes, turning it over cautiously, like he’s expecting it to bite. There’s no name, no marking, not even the academy seal—only plain parchment, folded and sealed with a single black wax dot.
“Guess there’s only one way to find out,” he says, sliding his thumb under the seal.
The room goes quiet. Even the students who’d been whispering fall silent, watching as he pulls out a small square of paper.
He frowns. “What the hell?”
I take it from him. The words are printed in a neat block font, and the paper feels—warm? Like it was freshly pulled from the printer. I read the short lines over in my head before looking back at Matt.
Where the forest remembers fire, the path begins. Be there before the sun touches the mountains. Failure to arrive is failure to begin. When success depends on making the right choice, who can you trust?
“That’s it?” Sasha repeats, now leaning over my shoulder. “What does that even mean?”
I shake my head. “I don’t know, but it sounds like a test. And if I’m right, that last line is telling us that we can’t trust everyone around us.”
“This could be a trap…” Matt mutters, though there’s a glint of excitement in his eyes that I recognize all too well.
One of the other students grabs another envelope and reads it out loud…same note, same vague threat. A nervous murmur ripples through the class as everyone starts comparing their copies, hoping for some difference, some clue. There isn’t one.
I glance at the clock on the back wall. It’s half past three.
The three of us grab our bags and leave while everyone else is distracted.
“What time is sunset today? I ask quietly.
Sasha pulls out her phone, “6:32.”
“Ok, so we’ve got three hours,” I say quietly.
Sasha folds her arms. “Three hours to find—what, exactly? ‘Where the forest remembers fire.’ That could mean anything.”
Matt grins. “Guess we’ll find out.”
“Alright,” I say, breaking the silence as we step outside. “We’re going to need maps, I think. How about we head to the library, see what we can find? We can make a list of possible meanings and locations, then start narrowing it down.”
“Sounds like a good place to start to me,” Matt says.
“Yep!” Sasha chimes in.
We claim a table in a quiet corner, far enough from anyone else that no one can eavesdrop—and spread out our notebooks and a few dusty maps of Scion, Ravenwood, and note anywhere within an hour's drive that’s near a forest.
“Forest remembers fire—could it be a forest’s name around here? That’s where you were going with the map, right, Lee?”
“Yeah,” I say, flipping through a local topography map. “That was my first thought. Fire, or something that burned.”
“Maybe ‘Ash’?” Sasha offers.
“‘Burnt,’ maybe?” Matt adds.
“Path could mean a decision,” I suggest.
Sasha shrugs, “Or we have to look for a direction rune.”
“Or it could be literal. A trail,” Matt counters. “Maybe a trailhead.”
My pulse picks up as an idea hits me. “I could be totally wrong, but…”
Matt leans forward. “What are you thinking?”
“On one of my running paths, there’s this tree—I always thought it was rotting halfway up the trunk. But what if it’s not rot? What if it’s a burn scar?”
“Gods, you’re my favorite,” he grins.
Sasha’s eyes light up. “And the path part…it says that’s where the path begins. Is there a new trail that starts there?”
“No, not one that’s obvious,” I admit, deflating slightly.
“Well, we can’t get everything at once, let’s go!” Sasha says, already standing.
I hesitate. “What if that isn’t it? We’ve already spent so much time digging through maps.”
Matt looks at me evenly. “What’s your gut say?”
“That this is it. But I still can’t figure out what the second part means.”
“Doesn’t matter,” he says, no hesitation in his voice. “If you think that tree’s the place, then that’s where we’re going. We don’t have any better leads.”
With only an hour left to solve the riddle, we head across campus, slowing when we pass other students from our class. Some are alone, heads bent over maps or phones; others move in pairs or clusters, whispering like conspirators.
By the time we reach the forest at the northwestern edge of the glen, fifteen minutes have already vanished.
The air cools as we step beneath the trees, the chatter of campus fading behind us until all that’s left is the sound of our breathing and the crunch of leaves as we walk deeper into the woods.
Sasha wraps her arms around herself, and I’m pretty sure it’s not from the chill.
“I can’t believe you run out here alone,” she says, looking around the forest like we’re going to be attacked at any second. “I’ve been in here for a minute, and I already feel like we’re being watched.”
“You get used to it,” I tell her. “The worst thing I’ve seen out here was a pair of porcupines with a more active sex life than me.”
“Please, tell me you didn’t watch,” Matt says, grinning. “I’ll buy you some porn if you’re that desperate.”
“Ew! No, I most definitely did not watch!” I swat his arm, and he laughs as we round a bend in the trail.
“Okay, the tree is right up here…” I say.
We round the corner, and there it is.
The tree looks different in the evening light—taller, older, stranger. The large black patch that marks the tree isn’t just a scar; it’s an almost perfect band of char, like someone branded it on purpose.
Sasha slows to a stop. “Okay, that’s definitely not rot.”
Matt whistles low.
“You weren’t kidding,” he says, steps closer and brushes a hand over the rough bark. “It feels—warm?”
“Warm?” I move in beside him. He’s right. The mark obviously isn’t fresh, so how can it still be warm to the touch? Even through my sleeve, I can feel a faint heat beneath the surface.
“Alright,” Sasha says quietly, “this is officially creepy.”
“Which means we’re probably in the right place,” Matt adds.
“Okay, it said ‘where the forest remembers fire, the path begins.’” I glance around. “So, where’s the path?”
Matt crouches, running his fingers through the fallen leaves at the base of the trunk. “Guys,” he says slowly, “I think it’s right here.”
Pushing aside the leaves, a narrow line of that same ash runs into the woods…thin, but impossible to be natural.
“Well,” Sasha says finally, breaking the silence, “we found where the forest remembers fire.”
“Yeah,” I whisper. “Now let’s see where the path leads.”
We follow the thin gray line, moving damp fallen leaves around every couple of feet, making sure we stay on the right path. The ash glows faintly in the dim light, like a dying ember refusing to go out.
“Anyone else getting the feeling we’re walking into a horror movie?” Sasha mutters.
“Worst case, we’re late and fail the assignment.”
“Or get eaten by tree ghosts,” Mattey adds.
“Not helping,” I chide.
The path winds between the trees for what feels like forever, until the forest suddenly opens up around us. A small clearing lies ahead: bare ground, perfectly circular, as if nothing has ever grown there. The ash trail ends right at its center.
“We came all this way for nothing?” Sasha says, her voice soft but confused. “Did we take a wrong turn somewhere?”
Before I can answer, a rustling sound breaks the silence. Two figures suddenly appear out of thin air, mere steps in front of us.
Sasha screams while I cling to Matt’s arm that he’s pulling behind him like he’s my human shield.
Major Halden lifts a hand in greeting, a faint smile on his face. “Great, you made it,” he says. His coat is dusted with leaves, like he’s been out here for a while. Beside him, Captain Lin nods in quiet approval.
Matt exhales loudly. “Seriously? You guys scared the hell out of us.”
“That was part of the exercise,” Lin says smoothly. “To see if you could follow the clue, and trust your instincts.”
Matt folds his arms. “So, what now? We just found an empty clearing.”
Halden’s eyes glint in the half-light. “Empty?” he echoes, glancing down at the ash beneath our feet. “Take a couple of steps forward.”
I follow his gaze. For a heartbeat, I swear the ash line at the clearing’s edge flickers, like a breeze catching a spark.