Chapter Thirty-Two #2
His mouth opened and closed before a finger went up in the air, and a roll almost fell out of his armpit.
“That is not the point.”
“It feels slightly like the point.”
He thrust one roll at me, then noticed the old man in the doorway and went completely still.
The old man looked at Barlen, and Barlen looked at the old man.
Neither of them spoke.
“You two know each other,” I said.
“No,” Barlen said quickly.
The old man gave a dry little laugh. “He lies poorly.”
“Everyone keeps saying that in Shadowick.” I shook my head and clutched the roll as my mind raced about the escaping shadow.
“Because no one here has the energy for better lies,” the old man replied. “This place wears a person out.”
Barlen’s ears flattened, and he scowled at the man. “You should be inside.”
“I am inside. Doorway counts.” He tapped his frail fingers onto the frame.
“It does not count.” Barlen looked angrier than I’d seen him yet.
“At my age, many things count if I say they do.”
Despite everything, I liked him too.
I looked over at the wall where the shadow slipped away, and my shadow mark flared in response. Behind the wall sat nothing but looming trees that I couldn’t see through.
Barlen noticed immediately and grabbed my hand.
“We are leaving.”
“No.” I shook my head. “There’s something I need to investigate.”
His eyes widened. “No? You’re telling me no?”
“I need to see where that shadow went.”
“You need to return to the compound before someone notices you’ve wandered out of the approved streets.”
“The Priestess told me to explore Shadowick.” I smiled. “So, I’m exploring. She didn’t mention anything about wandering too far or out of boundaries.”
“She meant the pleasant portions.” Barlen stomped his foot.
Is this not pleasant?”
Barlen gave me a helpless look.
The old man stood slowly, using the cane to steady himself. “If she follows it, she will find what the Priestess does not show guests.”
“Which is exactly why she should not follow it,” Barlen snapped.
I stepped toward the crack in the wall.
The root mark above it glowed faintly.
The shadow mark on my shoulder responded so strongly that I had to bite back a gasp.
Behind the wall, something pulsed, and I could feel it calling through the stone.
The old man watched me carefully. “You feel it.”
I swallowed as Barlen whispered something under his breath that sounded like a prayer or possibly a very small curse.
“What is this place?” I asked, turning around.
Neither of them answered as the crack in the wall widened enough for me to slip through.
Fog spilled out from the other side, thicker and darker than before. It wrapped around my boots and curled up the hem of my cloak as if welcoming me.
That should have been enough to make me turn around, but it wasn’t.
I glanced over my shoulder at Barlen, who looked frozen with terror, before I stepped through.
The passage beyond was barely a street at all. It was a long, narrow lane wedged between old stone buildings with boarded windows and sealed doors. The boards were blackened at the edges, hammered in from the outside, and each bore the same symbol.
A root curled around a star.
The shadow moved ahead of me, sliding over the stones toward the end of the lane where a much larger shape emerged through the fog.
A massive building sat at the edge of Shadowick like it had once mattered more than anything around it and had since been punished for daring to remain standing.
My steps slowed as the building’s roofline rose high into the fog, steep and jagged with broken spires that disappeared into gray. I spotted wide steps that led to double doors barred with iron and wood, though the shadow ignored the entrance completely.
Barlen squeezed through the crack behind me and stood next to me as I watched the shadow drift up the front wall, slip between two cracked stones, and vanish inside.
The moment it disappeared, my shadow mark went wild, sending a trail to my butterfly mark.
And without understanding why, something dangerously close to longing ripped through me so suddenly that I grabbed the nearest tree trunk to keep myself upright.
Barlen grabbed my cloak from behind. “Maeve, no.”
I barely heard him as the sprawling building pulsed, and the fog pulled back from its foundation as if the village itself had inhaled.
I couldn’t believe what I was seeing as I wandered closer, unable to stop myself. Along the side, tall windows that must have been beautiful once, with vivid stained glass, anchored the structure. A thick soot coated the golds, purples, and reds.
And I stood in awe at the color.
In Shadowick.
Even though it had been dimmed, it was still here.
The old man had followed us but remained several paces back near the lane’s entrance.
Barlen whispered, “We should not be here.”
I looked up at the windows, the barred doors, the root-and-shadow symbol, and the old stone, and the pull in my body deepened until it felt less like pain and more like a key turning beneath my skin.
And that was when I realized what I was looking at.