13. Rhune
Rhune
I wake in the middle of the night to Kevin nudging my chest and bleating wildly.
It takes me a moment to place why he's so frantic. Then I feel the cold space beside me where Willow should be.
I sit up fast, my heart pounding as I search the furs. She is small and could easily get lost among them.
But no matter how thoroughly I look, I can’t find her. She’s gone.
"Nyx." My voice comes out rougher than I mean it to. "Nyx, wake up."
I reach across the bed, but my hand finds nothing but cold furs where he should be. Dravik's spot is empty, too, the blankets thrown back as if he left in a hurry.
All of the familiars are gone, too. The only ones left are Kevin and me.
Panic claws up through my chest, and I’m on my feet before I realize I decided to stand.
"Willow? Dravik? Nyx?" I wring my hands together. “Anyone?”
Kevin bleats, frantically nudging my calves toward the doorway. "Is that where they went?" I ask. “Are they in trouble?”
Kevin doesn’t answer—of course he doesn’t. Still, it does nothing for the panic choking my heart. “Okay. Let's go find them.”
The air feels wrong the moment I step into the hallway. It’s heavier somehow, swirling with an invisible, dark kind of energy. Kevin doesn't follow past the doorway. He stops at the threshold, bleating once, then goes silent.
That’s… not a great sign.
I reach for the bond I share with Willow, closing my eyes and allowing it to lead me. It’s the only thing I trust right now.
The tunnel slopes downward the farther I go, the lanterns growing farther apart until I’m left entirely in the dark. The bond yanks harder, more insistent than I've ever felt it, and something cold and sick settles in the pit of my stomach.
Willow is in trouble. I know it in my bones.
My heart pounds in time with the tug of the bond, and I quicken my pace. My instincts are telling me to slow down, to turn back and run from whatever is causing this wrongness in the air—but my Willow is in danger, and I won’t leave her while there is breath left in my body.
The tunnel opens without warning into a massive chamber, and I stop dead at the threshold, unable to believe what my eyes are seeing.
Sitting in the center of the room is a massive pit, impossibly deep and overflowing with angry, pulsing red Welwig roots.
Willow stands at the edge of it, staring down into the dark as if nothing in the world could make her look away. The Welwig roots have found her, and the thick tendrils wind up her ankles, climbing higher with every heartbeat.
In the few moments it takes me to regain my bearings, they’ve already reached her hips and are coiling around her waist. All the while, Willow stands there, entranced by that horrible pit.
"Willow!"
My voice tears out of me louder than I mean it to, but she doesn't so much as flinch.
What… What is wrong with her?
I look around the room, searching for anything that might explain it, and that's when I see them. Dravik and Nyx are pinned against the far wall, each extremity held fast by a tangle of Welwig roots. Several smaller roots wind across their mouths, thick enough to muffle their cries for help.
Dravik struggles against his restraints, the veins standing out along his forearms as he fights with everything he has. But it’s not enough. The Welwig is stronger. It’s always stronger.
Nyx’s eyes find mine across the room, wide and urgent. Don’t get close to her, he says through our bond. That’s how it got us.
I can’t just leave her!
Mad with the need to save my mate, I rush in despite Nyx’s warning. My wings snap open, and I launch myself straight up toward the domed ceiling. Once I’m high above the roots and safe from their evil tendrils, I take a moment to hover, planning the best angle of attack.
It’s like the Welwig knows exactly what I’m thinking. Before I can react, several thick roots break off the ceiling, sending chunks of ice-rock raining down on me.
I have to dodge a particularly large chunk, and I’m so distracted I don’t notice the root until it’s too late. It wraps around my ankle, yanking me sideways toward the wall, where a dozen others join the first—winding around my wrists, legs, and throat, completely immobilizing me.
"Let go of me!" My voice comes out ragged, desperate. "Willow! WILLOW!"
She doesn't turn. She doesn't so much as blink.
The roots tighten, squeezing the last of the air from my lungs. I strain against them anyway, every muscle in my body fighting a battle that was lost the moment I stepped into the room. Giving up isn’t an option. Not while I’m alive. Not while I can still fight for her.
My vision is going dark at the edges, though, and I don’t know how much longer I have.
Just before my sight goes, a shadowy figure steps into the cavern. It takes me a moment to realize it's Cin. Noox is draped around his shoulders like a deadly necklace, and he looks every bit the terrifying predator that he is.
His mask is gone, exposing the raw bone and sinew beneath—and it only serves to make him more lethal.
His slitted eyes move over the room, taking in the roots holding me, then Dravik and Nyx. Last, his eyes move to Willow and stay there, his features flickering with a mixture of emotions I can’t quite make out.
Cin walks farther into the room and begins speaking in hushed tongues—words I don't recognize, syllables that don't belong to any language I've ever heard.
Amazingly, the roots respond. The one at my throat loosens, then slides back down my chest, retreating toward the pit.
The others follow suit, and I lower slowly to the ground, frozen in awe and terror.
Around the room, the same thing happens to the others.
Meanwhile, Cin keeps advancing toward the pit, never taking his attention off Willow.
Cin stops at her side, whispering to the roots wound around her. One by one, they loosen and slide free, retreating toward the pit. Willow sways the second they let go, and Dravik is already moving, crossing the distance to catch her before she falls.
As soon as his arms are around her, he pulls her away from the edge, not stopping until they reach the safety of the tunnel. He passes the threshold, then collapses, pulling Willow to his chest to protect her.
At the same time, Cin crumples to the ground next to the pit. Instead of attacking, the roots pull back from him, leaving a large bare patch of ice around the circumference of his fallen body.
Then the sound starts. A deep, ominous foghorn rolls up from the base of the pit, loud enough to feel in my chest. Cracks spiderweb out across the walls and ceiling, and chunks of ice-rock break loose, crashing down around us.
I duck deeper into the tunnel as a shard grazes my shoulder, and my brothers follow suit.
But Cin is still out there.
We have to get Cin! I tell Nyx through our bond. He’ll be crushed!
Nyx's jaw sets, and he nods once, letting me know he’s ready. We cross to Cin together, dodging falling debris. Once we’re to him, we grab an arm each and haul him back toward the tunnel.
We’re passing through the threshold as a huge slab of ice crashes down where he'd been lying a second earlier. Nyx and I share a glance, unwilling to name what would have happened if we had started moving a minute later.
Dravik carries Willow’s limp body against his chest, and all five of us make the trek back up the tunnel, leaving the chaos behind. The foghorn fades slowly the higher we climb, though the ground still trembles faintly under our feet, even when we are back in the safety of the bedroom.
“What do we do now?” I ask, fighting the whine building in my chest.
“For now, we need to let them rest.” Dravik carefully places Willow onto the bed, his palm trembling as he tenderly brushes her hair back from her face. “You are safe, my heart. We will not let them touch you again.”
Nyx and I share a glance. I’m not sure that is a promise he can keep.
While Dravik whispers promises to Willow, Nyx and I find a comfortable patch of fur to lay Cin's body on. We ease him down as gently as his size allows, then work to bind his hands and feet together—just in case he wakes up and chooses violence.
Once Cin is secured and as comfortable as possible, we move to the bed where Willow and Dravik are. I sit on the edge, gazing down at her pale skin, something cold settling in the pit of my chest. How could such a wonderful night turn out to be so ugly and horrible?
Just like Cin, her face is twisted and drawn tight with pain. Both of them are twitching, their mouths moving around soundless screams. Like they’re sharing the same nightmare.
All at once, it stops.
Willow and Cin lie perfectly still. The foghorn ceases. The shaking beneath our feet subsides.
Somehow, it’s worse than it was before.
I look at my brothers, and I see the same concern on their faces that I feel sitting heavy in my own chest. Something horrible is happening to this world, and Willow and Cin are at its center.
The only question is… are we too late to try to save them?