Chapter 15 Emilio
EMILIO
Nothing good ever happens in a creepy forest.
Emilio wasn’t trying to be a pessimist about the whole thing, but it was difficult not to worry about their impending doom.
Maybe it was the eerie trees flanking their path, or maybe it was the impenetrable silence sucking out the air like a vacuum—but whatever it was, Emilio couldn’t help but feel…
off. His skin itched. His stomach churned.
And he was certain that if he’d still had a heartbeat, his pulse would have been pounding in his ears, heart thumping against his chest cavity like a wild drum.
Coward, that annoying little voice echoed in the back of his mind.
“Shut up…” Emilio mumbled to himself, hand clutching his own wrist like it might run away from him.
“You all right?”
Olivier was peering down at Emilio. How long had he been watching? Emilio flushed, suddenly embarrassed. He always felt embarrassed, and Olivier and his stupid dimples weren’t helping.
“Just…” Emilio’s voice trailed away. He shrugged. “You know.”
Olivier smiled. His dimples deepened, as if mocking Emilio. “I know.”
Emilio shivered, despite the absence of a breeze. He could barely stand the intensity of Olivier’s gaze. The unbearable tension radiating between them. Did the others sense it? His flush only deepened at the thought.
It was driving Emilio insane that neither one of them could muster up the courage to act upon their feelings.
Emilio didn’t blame Olivier—it wasn’t like they’d gotten a lot of alone time since being thrust into the world of the Resistance.
But their profession of love seemed to perpetually hang between them now, this unspoken ache building inside Emilio, and he was certain that if one of them didn’t make a change, if one of them didn’t close the distance between them, he might just implode.
Emilio sucked in a sharp breath. “Olivier, there’s something I need to—”
But his words were drowned out as Catherine came to a sudden halt, calling for the rest of the group to stop.
Emilio groaned. Why do we have the worst timing?
He focused his attention on the front of the group, blinking in confusion when he noticed they were standing at the edge of a clearing, a single tree looming at the center. A willow tree.
Emilio gasped.
The tree from the map.
The willow’s twisted trunk was split into dozens of gnarled branches, wispy leaves drooping down like sheets of rain in a storm.
Not only was it larger than the surrounding trees of the forest, but it almost appeared older—aged and withered, as if it had been standing there, marking its place, from the beginning of time.
Its thick, bulbous roots protruded from the base in haphazard spirals, sprouting from the ground in cresting waves.
The strangest part, however, wasn’t the ancient tree itself, but what surrounded it.
All around the willow stood what appeared to be statues made of bark and vines. Limbs and faces coated in earth and twigs. Who would have made these? Emilio wondered, approaching the closest one with slow, tentative steps.
“Have you ever seen anything like this?” Masika asked, breaking the piercing silence that had fallen upon the group.
She approached another one of the statues—bark and roots fashioned to look like a woman standing with her hand raised to the sky—and gently pressed her fingertips against the statue’s cheek.
Catherine shook her head. “Never.”
“I don’t like this,” whispered Dina. The silver-haired girl unsheathed two daggers from the dozen strapped to her thighs. “Something doesn’t feel right.”
Dina wasn’t the only one unmoored by the strange statues. A queasy feeling had erupted in the pit of Emilio’s stomach. An unsettling shiver on the back of his neck. Even Benji let out a low whine, burrowing his face into the crook of Emilio’s elbow.
Emilio gently brushed his palm against the creature’s head. “It’s okay, buddy…” he whispered, though he hardly believed it himself.
Olivier strode up to one of the statues, squinting in scrutiny.
“Why the hell would someone come all the way out here just to make these?” Olivier asked. “Some weird art project?”
“Better question is…if someone did make these…then who got here before us?” asked Analisa, expression solemn.
“Well. That’s not at all ominous,” muttered Dina with a snort.
“Does the map indicate where the first clue might be?” asked Olivier.
“No…there’s just a circle around the willow tree.” Catherine unfurled the map, eyes dancing across the page. “It doesn’t say anything else.”
“Wonderful.” Olivier rubbed his face. “Profoundly helpful.”
At that same moment, Analisa let out a gasp. The healer’s eyes seemed to be focused on the ground; her face was drained of color. Emilio dragged his own eyes down, following her line of sight.
And that’s when he noticed the tree root wrapped around Analisa’s calf.
It was moving. Slowly constricting around her leg like a snake. Panicked, Analisa shot a wave of flames toward the root, but it remained unharmed, as if the fire had been nothing but a light gust of wind.
“What the hell?” Dina choked out, charging toward Analisa.
She sliced down on the root with one of her daggers, but the blade simply ricocheted off its surface.
At that same moment, another nearby root jolted from the ground, wrapping itself around Dina’s arm with enough force to knock the dagger out of her hand.
Just the way the tree root had latched itself onto Analisa, it began slithering its way around Dina’s arm, tightening its grip with every movement.
“Uh…” Olivier cleared his throat. “I think we might be in trouble.”
Emilio didn’t even have time to process what was happening.
Without warning, a dozen more roots rose from the ground and launched themselves at the group, taking hold of limbs, until they were all completely trapped where they stood.
Both of Emilio’s legs had been seized by roots, and a third wrapped tightly around his wrist. He’d accidentally dropped Benji amid the chaos, and now the little creature was pacing back and forth by his feet, anxiously barking at the roots and swatting at them with his paw.
Olivier’s panicked eyes flitted to Emilio.
His own legs had been completely engulfed by the ravenous roots.
They climbed higher and higher at an impressive speed, swallowing his calves and lower thighs.
It made it appear as though Olivier’s legs were made of plant matter.
Almost as if he were turning into the roots themselves. Just like…
The realization hit Emilio only a second later. “They’re not statues,” he whispered, voice shaking.
“What?” Dina snapped, furiously attempting to kick her leg away from the tree root that was currently ensnaring her thigh. Another one had coiled itself around her neck, creeping down over her chest.
“They’re not statues,” Emilio repeated, this time loudly enough for the entire group to hear.
“You mean—” Dina’s face fell. The fury in her gaze shifted into panic. “No. No, no, no. I am not turning into a freaky tree statue. That is not fucking happening.”
“Just stay calm,” Catherine snapped. A million thoughts seemed to be reflected in her hazel eyes, emotions coming and going too fast for Emilio to register. “There has to be a way out. Just let me think.”
“Why the hell wouldn’t there have been anything about this on the map?” Masika stared down at the roots in horror. “Why wouldn’t the True Headmaster have warned us?”
Analisa had gone impossibly calm since the tree roots had come to life and trapped them. Her expression remained stoic and serene, not a hint of strain in her muscles. She casually flexed her fingers, observing her situation with detached curiosity.
“I don’t sense a natural life-form…” the healer whispered softly. “The tree itself isn’t alive, despite the intention in its movements. It’s almost as though it’s doing this against its will. As if someone has programmed it to behave this way.”
“I don’t give a damn why it’s doing it, I just need it to stop,” Dina sneered, scowling down at the roots slithering over her stomach.
At that same moment, a deep rattle echoed a few yards ahead. A low groan. Emilio’s eyes darted in the direction of the noise—the willow tree. Something strange was happening to its trunk…the edges warping and shifting.
Emilio cocked his head in confusion.
The trunk is moving.
Pieces of bark shifted and fell away, forming what first appeared to be symbols and shapes. Emilio watched in fascination as the jagged shapes slowly morphed into letters, until he could fully understand what was written on the bark.
Run from me, yet still I cling. The healer of wounds, the slayer of kings.
A thief, a collector, an enemy to some.
The keeper of the past…the seer of what’s to come.
“It’s a riddle,” Catherine remarked, looking around the group. A tree root coiled itself tightly about her waist and she cringed away from it. “That must be the way out. Solving the riddle.”
“Any ideas?” asked Analisa with a soft smile.
Dina let out a furious groan and extended her one free arm in front of her. An electrifying jolt of corporeal magic shot out of her arm like a bolt of lightning, bursting against the trunk of the tree.
She dropped her hand, chest heaving.
But the tree remained perfectly intact. Not a blemish to be seen.
Catherine sighed. “Are you done?”
Dina scowled and slumped. “Yes.”
As the others continued to bicker about the best way to solve the riddle, Emilio sank into the chaotic void of his own mind.
Something about the first part of the riddle stuck out to him.
Run from me, yet still I cling. And there it was—prickling at the edges of his consciousness.
What had they always been running from? What had always continued to chase them, despite how hard they all might have tried to evade it?
The slayer of kings.
The healer of wounds.
Emilio hadn’t even meant to whisper the word out loud. It simply tumbled out of him.
“Time.”