Chapter one
I’ve only been in this forest for a little over a day, and I’m already weary of overgrown brush and thorns. The weather has been fair by luck alone, but I don’t know if it will hold. The soil I slept in was damp and rocky, a cold breeze and my rumbling stomach keeping me up late into the night.
A rough start, I’ll admit, but the discomfort is a reminder that I’m free. On my own, at last. And I’ve got a plan. Bare bones, but a plan all the same: Find Jaegen. Convince him to help me.
Take Aris down.
I’d classify myself in the pre-phase of phase one—as in, regarding finding Jaegen, I have no clue where he is or how to summon him. I still have my book, buried in the bag I’ve been dragging along, but I haven’t taken the time to look through it. Once I start, it could take days to find the proper sigils to contact him—and weeks to determine the right order to put them in.
But I’ll figure it out. Because I have to.
I’ll start looking once I find shelter. And food. And water. My tongue is so dry that it sticks to the roof of my mouth, my teeth covered in plaque and tasting sour. The hunger pains are striking and frequent, and, when I look down at my stomach miserably, I notice the dirt on my legs from sleeping on the forest floor. My back and neck are still sore from the night, no matter how many times I stretch or massage the muscles.
The thinning of the trees keeps me on my feet, hope powering me forward. What was once a jungle of green has slowly turned into foliage trimmed or felled. I’ve been searching for marked paths, but haven’t found any yet. I would very much like to; my jeans snag on thorns, my face smacked by a low branch every minute or two.
Still, there are signs that the forest is being managed. And that is a sign of civilization.
As the sun begins to dip and I consider setting up camp for the night, I spot the streetlights. Hit with a fresh jolt of energy, I scurry toward the light, pushing through the brush to find a building with a faded MARKET sign and advertisements for discounted food in the windows. A parking lot with vehicles within white lines tell me that the store is still open.
At first, I think the building is a mirage, but it doesn’t disappear as I approach. I laugh in manic relief, and almost cry at the thought of getting help—and at a grocery store no less! But my stomach sinks as reason kicks in. There is food and water inside, but the presence of others raises a different issue: recognition. I am known as Aris’ host and almost as infamous as he is.
I dance on my feet, unsure what to do. Do I risk it? There aren’t that many cars in the lot—maybe I can sneak past anyone inside? Finally, I come to the decision that I can’t pass this up.
I enter the store anxiously, one foot angled out the door. A person glances my way, and I brace to run, for someone to start screaming my name accompanied by a slur, but the shoppers’ gazes pass over me like I’m not there at all.
My rune, I remember with a start. It’s holding.
While the Following searched for me during the attack at the Institute, I had enough time to find a mark in the book. Something to hide me. I tattooed it on my arm with a safety pin and ink from a pen.
It worked at the Institute when the man was searching for me, but the others were able to see me: the Grand Mage, Henry, Silva… Aris. Maybe it only works when I want it to?
I want you to work, I say to the tattoo desperately.
It does not speak back, obviously, but I remain invisible to the shoppers as if the tattoo listened all the same.
Taking a breath, I start looking for the things I need. Browsing, I take note of the accents around me—people exchanging neighborly pleasantries. Everyone sounds Scottish, or at least something close, and I have to wonder if the Grand Mage sent me to the U.K. It would make sense—I don’t recognize any brand names or the packaging of items, and even the layout of the store feels foreign.
The thought terrifies me. I know nothing about this area. What currency do they even use—euros, pounds? I think I heard someone say “quid” in a movie once. And geography. Where is the nearest airport? Are there trains to get there? Where could I find a station ?
I try to focus on the task at hand. I grab as many granola bars as my duffel allows and hesitate in the cosmetic aisle before taking hair dye. Who knows how long the sigil will hold? In case people start to see me, I need to look different.
Other necessities for incognito work come to mind: scissors, sunglasses, a hat. The supermarket doesn’t have a grand selection of any of these, but there are a few things by the registers and tucked between aisles.
Finally finished, I hurry toward the “WC,” and my luck holds; the bathroom doesn’t need a key to get in. I lock the door behind me and wash my face and under my arms with the harsh soap in the dispenser. After using moss as a pillow last night, grime and dirt sticks to me like a second skin.
After a few minutes, I’m still not satisfied with my hygiene, but I’m worried that someone might come knocking at the door. I need to move on; there’s more to do. Still, I hesitate, my gaze drawn to my reflection.
I find a pale, stressed girl with weighted eyes. Bony, with plain features. Slumped shoulders. Gaze drifting to my long, dark hair, I dread what I have to do next. I’ve always liked it long, but so many photos show me with it.
I sigh and start snipping away, aiming to cut it from mid-shoulder to what is about neck length. When I finish, it’s uneven in the back, clearly a shoddy job, but I force myself to stop, worrying that if I mess with it more, I’ll just make it worse.
After swiping my hair into the trash, I mix the dye, wet my remaining hair, and leave the bathroom while the dye sets. I find a corner to settle in, chewing on a granola bar and keeping an eye on the clock in the corner. Staying alive—good job so far. Shelter, food. Incognito work.
I can do this. I can be on my own.
The store closes at nine and customers are ushered out a quarter til, the manager vacating at ten. She seemed confused by the smell of dye when checking the bathroom, but ultimately shrugged and turned on the overhead fan .
Once I’m certain everyone’s gone and it’s just me in the store, I curl up in the employee lounge. There’s no couch or blankets, only a stiff armchair that unfortunately makes sleep close to impossible, even with how exhausted I am. I take turns alternating between the chair and the linoleum floor, but both are terrible.
Finally, I turn on the florescent lights and flip through the spellbook. If I have to be awake, I might as well be productive.
But I soon discover that I won’t be getting anywhere tired, with a mind that does nothing but circle back to Henry and Aris. I can think of them only with clenched teeth.
I run through the moments we spent together, the secrets I shared. Was I telling them to Henry, or Aris? Could Henry bring himself to touch me, or was he so disgusted that Aris had to take control?
Tears gather in my eyes, a trophy of Aris’ victory, but I can’t stop them. Now that I’m somewhere safe, I’m finally able to deal with what happened at the Institute: Aris’ betrayal, losing Henry, the deaths.
From what I saw, the destruction from the attack was immeasurable. There were countless bodies and screams that echoed down the halls. I was only ever a means to an end to them, to all of them; my presence was not celebrated, merely tolerated. The mages imprisoned me, even hated me, but I can’t bring myself to enjoy their downfall.
A painful idea seeds: Is it my fault?
The sound of something like a slice suddenly cuts through the air.
Despair momentarily forgotten, I sit up straighter. The room is empty, but I definitely just heard something, like two knives grinding against one another, or a sword swishing about…?
My first thought is that someone’s here to work the midnight oil, but no one enters the lounge and I hear nothing else.
Just when I’m about to chalk it up to nerves and fatigue, shining light cuts through empty space, and a tall, needle-thin hole appears in the middle of the room. For a moment, I go completely still and don’t react at all. And then I spring to my feet like a rabbit fleeing a fox .
Has Aris found me already? Is it the Following? He ordered them to let me go, but maybe he changed his mind…?
Could it be Henry? Is he back? Is he sorry?
The iridescent light offers no answers, and, as the seconds tick past, it gets brighter and brighter, until it feels like I’m staring at the sun and I have to shade my eyes as a shadowed, massive form steps through.
At first, I freeze, thinking Ryan has come to collect me in place of his master, but as the light dims and the crack settles…
I squint, then tense. I’ve never seen this man before, but I know who it is instinctively. The name invades my mind like an ailment, beyond my control: Jaegen.
His eyes land on me immediately. “Mary,” he says. “Are you ready to talk about consequences?”