12. Forest of fate
Forest of fate
It was early morning as dawn settled over the land when they slipped beyond the castle walls.
Golden light from the sunrise began to stain the sky, bringing a bit of cold to the air.
As the city disappeared from view, Sorcha let her limbs relax a bit.
The weight of watching eyes had lifted. The scrutiny, the expectations, all of it had been suffocating.
Now, with only the cobbled paths beneath their feet and the wind slipping through the trees, everything felt lighter.
For the first time since they’d set out, Maelan hadn’t shifted.
He remained in his fae form, tall and quiet, walking just ahead.
Kyron, a few steps behind, let out a scoff. “It’s weird seeing you like this,” he said. “An actual person, not a creature stuffed into a saddlebag.”
Sorcha let out a quiet laugh, and Maelan winked at her.
Kyron groaned as he watched the exchange. “So, do I call you Cat or Maelan now?”
Maelan barely hesitated. “Either, Cat’s grow on me, but Maelan works just the same.”
Kyron snorted. “Good, because Cat feels odd now. Maelan it is.” He said flatly, and Maelan smiled back.
Sorcha glanced between them, feeling a sense of relief. For all the tension and uncertainty of what lay ahead, they were still them.
The sun was now high in the sky when Kyron came to an abrupt halt and began speaking without turning around.
“We’re about to enter the ó Choill Go Cinniúint, The Forest of Fate. In here, time does not flow as it should. The trees whisper in familiar voices, calling you deeper. But it’s a lie. Everything here is a lie.”
Maelan squeezed Sorcha’s hand, Kyrons eyes landed on their intertwined hands.
“Maelan.” A voice whispered next to Sorcha’s ear.
“Sorcha” another voice rang out, but Maelan cupped Sorcha’s jaw as she began turning her head, keeping her gaze forward.
His gaze ahead, he added. “Never. Look. Back. No matter what you hear.”
Sorcha nodded as a sickening wave of dread crashed over her, tightening in her chest. She could die here. They all could.
She wasn’t ready for this. Her hands curled into fists. Had she taken on too much? A warm hand wrapped around hers, Kyron’s.
She looked up, startled, and found him beside her. “I’ll be with you every step of the way.”
She exhaled, nodding again. Her gaze flicked to Maelan. He had been silent while watching them, his expression unreadable, eyes lost in thought. But when she met his gaze, he gave the smallest nod. Without another word, they stepped into the forest.
As they stepped into , the shift began gradually.
The forest no longer welcomed them. Trees wove together to create an impenetrable wall around the forest like a dome; bark split open as brambles and thorns writhed against the forest floor.
Where golden leaves once shimmered, only husks remained, drained of color, curled at the edges into brittle gray and black.
Sorcha kept moving, though tension clung to her limbs, but as wasn’t alone in the feeling.
Maelan walked to her left, eyes never still, fingers grazing the hilt of his dagger.
Kyron flanked her right, posture taut, every motion braced for what might emerge from the dark.
The vines arrived without warning. Thick brambles surged up from the underbrush with unnatural speed, weaving through roots and stones.
Their black-tipped thorns caught what little light remained and reflected it like shards of glass.
Then a sound arrived, so faint that one might have imagined it.
Her name, whispered on the air behind her.
A second voice followed, closer to her ear, as though someone stood just behind her shoulder.
Then laughter, which was disturbingly familiar.
Not one voice now, but many, layered into a melody too chaotic to follow.
Voices she knew, voices that couldn’t be here. Mason, Eirin and Rhosyn and Emry.
Her heart felt as though it was in a vice grip as Emery’s voice whispered in her ear. “Why didn’t you save me?”
Her steps faltered, tears streaming down her face as Emrys voice screamed her name, but Maelan’s hand closed firmly around her wrist, grounding her in the moment before she slipped.
His voice was quiet. “Keep moving. It isn’t real.”
And it was the steadiness in it that made her believe him. She turned just enough to meet his eyes.
“Eyes forward, firelight,” he said. “No matter what you hear.”
She turned back to the path, and the voices multiplied.
Laughter spiraled through the trees. Some tones mocking; others scraped low in a wail.
They spun around the group, disorienting them as dark shapes flickered at the edges of her sight, darting between the trees with a twitching, ephemeral speed.
They never fully formed, always retreating before she could focus, but they watched.
Kyron spoke then, as if he sensed her look.
“Don’t look,” he said, eyes locked forward. “That’s what they want.”
She forced herself to ignore the brush of movement that ghosted across her arm, the sound of laughter behind her, the voices calling her name. Each step became a battle against the urge to turn her head. Something tugged at the edge of her shirt, and Maelan shifted closer to her.
Just then she heard Eirin. His voice sounded exactly as it had the last time she had seen him, full of quiet strength and concern, and it reached through as the darkness closed in around her but she refused to let it fool her and just when she thought she had regained control, the voice that broke her resolve also broke her heart.
It was her father’s voice. The sound hit her like a blow, pulling her back to a place where she’d always felt safe, always loved.
Her lungs refused to expand. Her heart slammed.
She turned; she couldn’t stop herself. She reached for the figure in the mist; he shouldn’t have been there.
It was him, but not fully formed; it wasn’t exactly a shadow either.
It stood in the shape of her father, flickering at the edges as if it were struggling to hold itself together.
Pain seared through her skull as if lightning had struck it, and the world cracked around her.
The air split open with a sound she felt more than heard, and in the space of a moment, the figure lunged.
Before Maelan or Kyron could move, it reached for her, and she was gone.
The silence that followed was deafening, a hollow stillness that pressed into the space where she had been.
The shadows receded just enough for them to see she was gone, and the voices fell silent.
Maelan stood frozen, hand still half-reached toward where she had stood.
Kyron said nothing, his eyes narrowed in fury that had nowhere to go.
Only two figures remained in the Forest of Fate.