Chapter 24
Evelyne drifted into a restless sleep once they were back on the road.
Too shaken to relax after the night’s events, she’d spent the early hours pacing her room at the outpost. At one point, she had even practiced loading her father’s pistol, still tucked away in her carpet bag.
It had been years since she’d last fired one, and though she had no plans to use it, she needed to remember how.
Her fingers had moved through the motions mechanically—checking the flint, wrapping lead bullets in cloth patches, wiping dust from the barrel—all while her thoughts spiraled.
She thought of the sigil, of Cillian, of the taint of blood magic.
Of Vaelora, and the realm of magical creatures that had lurked unseen for generations, veiled just beneath the surface of her reality.
She’d been blind to it all. Now, she was chasing ghosts into the darkest forest on the continent.
She stirred, rubbing the sleep from her eyes as she rolled her shoulders, feeling the travel stiffness settle deep in her bones.
Even in daylight, Mokkvyrn Forest was smothering.
Its canopy of twisted branches wove so thickly overhead that only the faintest light slipped through, casting the forest floor into an unearthly, eternal dusk.
Fog drifted through the tangled undergrowth, curling like spectral fingers around the trunks of ancient trees.
She should have been afraid. But it was beautiful in a haunting, untamed sort of way.
When she sat up, Alaric’s stare was already on her.
Evelyne narrowed her eyes. “Is there something on my face, or do you just enjoy staring?”
Alaric immediately looked away, shifting awkwardly. “No… I—I’m sorry.”
Evelyne smirked, leaning back against the seat. “I’m joking, Alaric.”
His lips twitched into something like a smile, but neither pressed the moment further.
They both knew the weight of the silence between them, the unsaid words, the rift unhealed.
But now was not the time. There were far more significant things to worry about, like the inky darkness that had spread across Alaric’s map last night.
“Are you well rested?” Alaric asked cautiously, watching her stretch.
“As well as I can be, given the circumstances,” she muttered, stifling a yawn. “Though I’d much prefer a proper pillow next time. Or perhaps, I don’t know, a certain someone could let me sleep through the night without waking me before dawn?”
He rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m sorry for frightening you. I’m still trying to make sense of this map, and when I woke up, I… I felt something.”
“What did you feel?” she asked curiously.
“I don’t know. It was like… a chill, but it moved over me. Almost like a cold shadow brushing past. But it felt wrong.”
Her breath stilled. She knew that feeling. She had felt it the night Cillian disappeared. “Did you see anything?” she whispered.
“No. Just the ink spreading on the map. But something was there, Evelyne.” His voice fell quiet. “Something was watching us.”
A shiver ran down her spine, because she had felt it, too. But instead of letting the fear sink in, she reached into her luggage and pulled out a heavy tome.
“I know Vaelora has Cillian,” she said, flipping through the pages until she reached the marked passage. “We suspected it, but now I know for certain.”
Alaric’s eyes flicked over the text.
“This one,” she said, pressing her finger to the dark illustration identical to the mark near her family’s estate.
“This sigil was carved into the rock the night Cillian was taken. My father believed it was a warning, and he was right. But it’s more than that; it’s a claim.
According to the book, it was created through blood magic. ”
Alaric’s shoulders stiffened. “And she’s the only witch ever to wield such magic.”
Evelyne closed the book, nodding. “At least we’re headed in the right direction.”
But Alaric’s face had gone pale as he glanced at the page again. “Evelyne… did you read the full passage?”
She knew what he was implying. She knew exactly what the message said. “I did. But I’m getting him back, Alaric.” There was nothing more to argue.
***
Night had barely fallen when her hunger announced itself with such volume that even Reuben looked over in surprise.
“I’ll find something,” Alaric muttered, already grabbing his bow. “Rabbit, maybe. I won’t risk gunfire out here.”
She nodded, pulling the map into her lap while Alaric disappeared into the trees. The fire Reuben had started crackled against the oppressive quiet of the forest. Evelyne took the opportunity to change into something simpler for the evening.
Her fingers curled around the map’s edges, checking it every few moments and watching for any sign of the black ink returning. Thankfully, the darkness stayed away.
For now.
When Alaric finally returned, a fresh kill in hand, she refused to watch him skin it. He made quick work of it over the fire, and though the meal was simple, just rabbit and dried berries, it was enough.
“Never thought I’d see the day where Lady Duskwood eats rabbit in the middle of the woods,” Alaric teased, spearing a piece of meat with his knife.
Evelyne smirked. She sat on a tree stump, cloak cinched close and boots smeared with mud. “Yes, well, this isn’t exactly how I pictured my life as a lady either.”
Alaric chuckled and shrugged. “Fair enough. You’re handling the bugs better than I thought you would.”
Her eyes narrowed. “What bugs?”
He lifted his chin toward her boot.
She followed his gaze and spotted the brown spider crawling up her leg.
She squealed, launching off the stump, swatting at her foot. Alaric burst into laughter, and even Reuben, who had been silent most of the day, let out a faint snort.
“I’m going inside the carriage,” Evelyne huffed, clutching her food as she stormed off.
Alaric’s laughter followed her the entire way.
She ate in silence, absently chewing as the steady chirping of crickets filled the night beyond the carriage walls. The fire outside crackled softly, casting faint, flickering shadows along the edges of her vision.
Would her father send men after her soon? Not yet, she thought. Perhaps in a week, maybe longer. That gave her time to find Cillian before anyone tried to drag her back home.
Her fingers tightened around the tin plate in her lap. Was Cillian okay? Was he afraid? Was he even alive?
Stop it. She clenched her jaw, forcing the thought away. Of course he was alive. He had to be.
A gust of wind rustled the trees outside as she let out a slow breath, trying to ease the anxious weight in her chest. Almost absently, she unfolded Alaric’s map, and her stomach dropped.
Black tendrils spread across the parchment, inching steadily toward their glowing location. The map seemed to throb with a sinister energy, and the shadows began to accelerate. Her heartbeat thundered in her ears—and then the forest went silent.
No more crickets. No rustling leaves. Only the fire remained, its crackle suddenly too loud.
Panic tightened her chest as she hurried to fold the map and shove it into her bag. Alaric and Reuben had to be warned. They couldn’t stay here.
She grabbed her bag and reached for the door, but the moment her fingers grazed the handle, a shadow fell over the carriage. A smothering darkness, tightening like a noose and carrying with it a cold, breathless dread.
For a second, she saw nothing. Only black mist, curling and twisting through the cracks in the wood, wrapping around her limbs like invisible fingers. Then, just as quickly as it had appeared, it was gone. And Reuben stood before her.
But it wasn’t Reuben.
His face was frozen. His features were warped, his eyes black, a wicked smile slicing across his lips.
“Reuben?”
He didn’t respond. His skin looked pale and sickly, just as Cillian’s had been that night in the library.
A warning bell screamed in her mind. She had to move.
Had to find Alaric. But she couldn’t, because Reuben stood in the carriage doorway, unmoving and unblinking. Fear clawed its way up her throat.
“Alaric!” Her voice cut through the night, but she heard nothing in return. Was he still by the fire? Was he still here?
Reuben’s hand closed around her wrist in a flash, unrelenting as iron. Pain lanced up her arm, and she gasped, realizing just how unnatural his strength truly was.
“Reuben, let go!” She twisted and fought, but it was like trying to tear free from shackles.
Then he spoke—but the sound was twisted. No warmth, no familiarity. Just a chilling cruelty that wasn’t his.
“Foolish girl,” he sneered. “You were warned. Yet here you are, still sniffing around.”
His grip turned vicious, grinding down with bone-snapping pressure. He dragged her in close, voice laced with malice. “Consider this mercy my last.”
Whatever looked out through Reuben’s eyes wasn’t human anymore.
Evelyne could barely breathe, panic swallowing her whole. But then, the sound of footsteps rushed toward them.
“Evelyne—” Alaric was close now. But before he could reach her, the trees shuddered. A low, guttural growl ripped through the air just as a massive shadow lurched from the trees.
It was huge. And not just one figure, but… three.
Reuben blinked. His eyes snapped back to normal, and the haze lifted. He looked down at Evelyne’s wrist, his grip still crushing her bones. Horror spread across his face. He released her instantly, stumbling back.
“I—I’m so sorry, my lady.” His voice trembled.
She hardly heard him. Her focus had narrowed to the hulking shapes emerging from the dark. Creatures built to hunt. The snarls grew louder, closer, and her heart thrashed violently against her ribs.
Alaric’s urgent voice cut through the moment. “RUN!”
Evelyne pushed ahead, branches snagging at her cloak, hair, and skin. The forest closed in around them, trees pressing from all sides. The ground was rough and uneven, but she couldn’t stop.
They were close. Growls split the night, vibrating through her bones. She sprinted harder than she ever had, but the pounding of paws stayed just a breath behind.
“Keep running!” Alaric yelled.
She nearly tripped on a jagged root but caught herself at the last second. A sharp branch sliced across her cheek. Warmth trailed down her skin. But she couldn’t slow down. Not as the footsteps became louder—
Her ankle twisted in a hidden ditch. She went down hard, face-first into the mud. A curse had barely left her lips before a massive weight crushed into her back, and hot breath ghosted over the nape of her neck.
The sting of claws raked across her back. She braced for the end, squeezing her eyes shut.
THUMP.
Something struck the back of her head, and the world vanished into blackness.