Chapter 26
The last thing I want is to offend him and be left stranded here all by myself.
Deep down, I know he wouldn’t do that. Not now.
We’ve developed a strong connection since my arrival—something unspoken.
There’s a mutual understanding between us.
He reads me as much as I try to read him.
And though he’s still unpredictable, even dramatic at times, I’ve learned to respect that part of him.
As we weave through the trees, I watch as orange and brown leaves float from above in slow, methodical motions, gently landing on the forest floor.
The Autumn Court is really beautiful. I haven’t seen the other courts, only the Winter one, but I think each holds their title and beauty in their own unique way.
A rustle from above sends a shiver down my spine and I lift my gaze to the tangled branches above. The canopy sways, shadows shifting in ways that feel just a little too deliberate. Were there any bellowigs in this part of the forest?
I really didn’t want to be fending off one of those carnivorous nightmares right now.
Tightening my grip on Storm’s mane and blow out a slow, measured breath, trying to steady my pulse.
I scan the treetops once more. I wasn’t in the mood to become someone’s evening snack.
The forest grows darker and darker the further we go. The warmth of the sun completely gone. I lift my hood up over my head, hoping to ward away the sudden chill in the air. In this part of the forest, the trees are gnarled and twisted, the thickest dark canopy blocks out all light.
Nervously, I swallow, and my fingers grow stiff the tighter I grip onto Storm’s mane.
Now that my anger has faded, I’m beginning to regret not having brought someone along for company.
This is probably not the smartest idea I’ve had, but my guilt and loyalty to my friend outweigh all logical thoughts.
The path narrows, the trees growing denser and the underbrush thickening until it becomes nearly impassable. Storm slows, his powerful strides faltering as the ground becomes uneven, tangled with roots and low-hanging branches. Finally, he comes to a complete stop.
I lean forward and pat his neck, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath my fingers.
“She’s close, isn’t she?” I murmur, more to myself than to him.
Storm bobs his head in response, his dark mane flicking elegantly with each movement.
The simple gesture draws a smile from me.
He’s always been able to make me smile, even in moments like this.
“Alright then,” I whisper, taking a deep breath to calm the rush of nerves that churn inside me.
The air is thick with the smell of damp earth and pine, the forest quiet except for the soft rustling of leaves in the breeze.
I grip Storm’s mane for support as I swing my leg over his back and slide down.
My feet hit the ground hard, and I stumble backward a few steps, my legs still shaky from the ride.
Nymeria is there, stopping me from tumbling on to my ass.
I wince, steadying myself on a nearby tree, wishing—not for the first time—that I could move with the same effortless grace as everyone else.
My movements are clumsy and awkward in comparison.
They would have leaped from the horse as swiftly and naturally as a dancer.
But me? I’ve always been fighting to keep up, to make it look like I belong.
I cast a quick glance at Storm, who’s watching me with those knowing eyes. I exhale in a rush and straighten, forcing my legs to cooperate as I begin to gather my bearings.
Suddenly, I hear the beat of wings overhead and instinctively look up, though the dense canopy of trees blocks my view.
The rhythmic sound is unmistakable; Raiden is searching for me.
My breath catches, and for a second, everything inside me stalls—then rushes forward all at once.
He’s close, but I also know why Zaria chose this spot to hide.
The forest here is a labyrinth, its thick foliage and twisted paths make it difficult to navigate, especially for someone of Raiden’s size.
I move carefully, each step deliberately placed to avoid making too much noise.
The forest floor is a tangle of roots and fallen leaves, concealing potential hazards.
I can feel the gentle hum of my magic resonating through my skin, as if it’s connecting with the plants and trees surrounding me.
It feels as though the ancient magic of the forest yearns for a connection.
All around, there is a distinct energy, a gentle hum that resonates in the air.
Nervously, I grip the edges of my cloak and close my eyes, extending my senses to the forest. Instantly, I feel their vibrant life energy enveloping me and gently caressing my own.
Waves of magic roll over my body, and I can sense each and every life around me.
But among all the heartbeats, there is one specific rhythm I am searching for.
I let my magic glide effortlessly over the rugged rocks and gentle mounds, finally coming to rest at the base of a towering tree a few hundred yards away.
The enormous tree stands tall, its gnarled and twisted trunk reaching toward the sky.
Like a second skin, its bark is completely covered in a vibrant green moss.
In the midst of its foliage, Zaria’s glowing amber eyes blink, casting an otherworldly glow in the darkness.
I open my eyes and smile. She isn’t far, and I know the path.
“I’ll be back soon.” I say, giving him a gentle pat.
Storm nudges me lightly, and the sound of his soft breaths fills the air.
I immediately feel the tears welling up in my eyes, blurring the scene before me.
The sadness in his dark obsidian eyes mirrors the void left by Maxon’s absence.
Suddenly, as if sensing my distress, Nymeria and Anika trot into the area, their paws creating a soft thud against the ground.
They surround me, warm fur brushing against my skin, enveloping me in a comforting embrace.
‘We will follow.’
‘No, stay with Storm,’ I answer.
Like vigilant sentinels, both wolves sit on their haunches, their ears pricked up, ready to react to any sound. My chest fills with a loving warmth as I stare at each of them. “I’ll be back soon with Zaria.”
Following the subtle pull of my magic, I turn and stride in the direction it guides me. The sensation is both familiar and foreign—like an old friend whispering directions only I can hear.
Out of the corner of my eye, shimmering lights flicker between the branches and leaves, catching my attention.
Ethereal trails of fairy dust swirl through the air, drifting like delicate smoke.
The tiny creatures flit between the trees, their small, curious eyes focused, sensing the unusual energy that ripples around me.
It’s as if the forest itself is alive, observing, deciding whether I’m friend or foe.
After the eerie stillness of the ride out here, the sudden spark of life is a relief.
I didn’t realize how much the silence was bothering me until now.
At least out here, in the heart of the forest, there is movement, magic—things watching, shifting.
It feels like I’m not alone anymore, and for the first time since entering the forest, I breathe a little easier.
A fallen log in my path has me clambering over it with some effort.
As I plant my foot on the other side, the ground beneath seems to rise ever so slightly, catching me before I stumble.
I freeze, my heart skipping a beat. It’s only now that I notice the subtle movements—leaves rustling when there’s no wind, branches shifting to the side, vines parting just enough to let me through.
The forest is helping me. Guiding me. My magic must have connected with it, and now the very terrain is bending to assist my passage.
I press a hand to the nearest tree trunk, feeling the faint thrumming of life within its bark, an energy that resonates with my own.
I curl my fingers, pressing them into the soft bark, and smile. But then something shifts in the air, and I freeze.
The temperature drops, and an unsettling mist begins rolling toward me, thick and unnatural. I swallow hard, the tension snapping back into my chest. The mist is different—there’s something dark about it, something not quite right. I unclip my dagger from my hip, gripping its hilt tightly.
Up ahead, I can just make out the outline of a tree. It’s massive—larger than anything I’ve seen before, its thick roots twisting out of the ground like ancient serpents. This is the tree I saw in my mind’s eye, the one my magic has been leading me toward.
“Everly!” Raiden’s voice bellows through the trees above, making me jump.
“Seriously, Batman? Are you trying to give me a heart attack?” I breathe, my palm on my chest.
Shaking my head, I cautiously approach the towering tree, my gaze traveling up. How on earth am I supposed to get up there?
As soon as the idea has formed in my mind, a tangled mass of emerald vines bursts from the gnarled roots of the tree. With an audible rustling, they weave a makeshift ladder, reaching skyward, creating a path for me to take.
Swiftly, I sheath my dagger and start climbing, eager to escape from the encroaching mist. I can’t explain it, but something feels off about it. Something unnatural.
Goosebumps skitter across my body, and shake them off, climbing quicker.
The rough texture of the vines against my palms keep me grounded as my anxiety urges me forward.
I do my best to focus on the lush scent of the leaves and the sound of the breeze as it passes.
But then the vines stop abruptly. I frown, my hand brushing against a thick knot where the green tendrils cease their climb.
My gaze sweeps upward in confusion, but as I look around, I realize this isn’t the end of the path—it’s a landing of sorts.
The branches begin here, weaving together like a network of bridges, forming a natural platform.
Nestled within the twist of roots and bark is what looks like a den, a protected hollow shielded from the open sky.
Relief surges through me, and I carefully hoist myself from the vines, crawling onto the wide branch, solid beneath me.
“Zaria?”
A low, menacing growl fills the air, making my muscles tense and tremble in response.
Shit, this is your friend. Pull yourself together.
“Zaria, it’s me. Everly. I’m here to take you home.” I push to my feet, my eyes searching the dark. “Zaria?”
Pulse thundering in my ears, my vision slowly adjusts to the darkness, revealing two enormous amber eyes peering at me from within the depths of the tree. I halt at the boundary of the shadows, nerves rattling through my body.
“Zaria, please come out,” I whisper. “I need you.”
The eyes blink and slowly rise. Instinctively, I take a step back and watch in awe as a massive leopard gracefully emerges from the dark depths of the den.
Its head is lowered, and a fierce gleam sparkles in its predatory eyes.
Fear tightens my throat, and I clench my fist to stop myself from grabbing my dagger.
This is Zaria. She is not capable of causing me harm.
Slowly, I reach my hand out, hating how it shakes.
“It’s time to go home, Zaria.”
Lowering her head, she pins her ears back.
A low, guttural noise rumbles from her throat, a menacing sound that is a cross between a hiss and a growl.
The air feels heavy as I straighten my shoulders and slowly sit down and cross my legs.
My heart pounds in my chest, but I refuse to break eye contact with her, knowing the importance of maintaining this connection.
“Fine, you want to stay here, then I’ll stay, too.
But just so you know, our friends need us.
Our king needs us. Raiden, he needs you.
Hiding away won’t change what’s happening out there, and it won’t make the pain disappear.
But together, we can face it. You’re not alone.
You’re never alone.” I draw in a shaky breath before continuing, “But most of all . . . I need you now more than ever. They have him, Zaria.” My voice cracks, but I keep going.
“Let’s show them that we’re not giving up. ”
A whining sound comes from Zaria, and she seems to crumple in on herself.
Everything inside me shatters at the sound, and I scoot closer, pulling her massive head into my lap.
She buries her head under my arm, as if trying to get as close as possible.
Tears stream down my face, as I cradle her massive head in my lap.
My fingers gently glide over her velvety fur as she trembles and shakes.
God, the lump that forms in my throat swells to encompass my chest. I can barely breathe.
“I’m so sorry, Zaria. Rayna–” I choke on her name, my throat completely closing up.
I tip my head back, blinking away the tears and jolt at the sight of Asrai perched on the branch above. Her dual-colored eyes—one brown one blue—are filled with tears.
Her tiny hands come up and sign, ‘She has been stuck in this form since the battle.’
“Oh, Zaria.” I drop my face into her fur and silently cry. My tears soak into her, but I can’t stop them even if I wanted to.
I don’t know how or when, but eventually, I succumb to sleep, the heaviness of my tears lulling me into oblivion.