Chapter 19 Wren
WREN
Wren had found the lock of hair on her bedside table. No note. No indication of who might have left it there. It was just…there.
She brushed the dark strand of hair between her fingers, brows furrowed. Who the hell would have left a lock of hair in her tent? And for what purpose? It made no sense. Was it a message? A threat?
Wren hadn’t noticed anything strange when Quinn and Arthur had guided her back to her tent after the battle simulation and the training activities that followed.
Wren hadn’t participated in the training—given her lack of magic—but she’d been forced to watch.
Forced to be in the presence of magic without having a drop in her veins.
Once Wren had entered the tent and Quinn and Arthur had left her for the evening, she’d wandered over to her bed, only to notice the lock of hair in her peripheral vision. And now, here she was, racking her brain for some sort of explanation.
It wasn’t her hair, that she was certain of. And it didn’t seem to belong to Quinn or Arthur, given that Quinn’s hair was a bright shade of pink and Arthur’s was shaved close to his scalp.
But it must belong to someone in the encampment.
A Demien.
The realization struck Wren a second later. She gasped, nearly dropping the lock of hair on the floor. A memory flitted into her mind. Something Quinn had said to her earlier that morning.
“It’s enchanted to keep you in. If you want to cross through, you have to have physical contact with a Demien.”
If this lock of hair belonged to a Demien…would it count? Would it be enough to get her through the tent’s barrier? If so, the better question wasn’t why someone had left this here…but who had left it?
Wren pocketed the questions for later, refocusing her attention on the task at hand. She gripped the lock of hair tightly and approached the entrance to the tent, breath held.
Please work.
She shut her eyes and stepped forward.
A delicate breeze. A gentle pressure.
Wren’s eyes fluttered open, blinking as her vision readjusted. It took a few seconds for the realization to sink in.
She was standing outside the tent. She had passed through the barrier. It had worked.
It actually fucking worked.
Wren clamped a hand over her mouth to silence the wave of laughter bubbling up in her throat. Getting past the barrier was only the first step, and there was no point in rejoicing when she was still in danger.
Somebody, for whatever reason, had handed her this opportunity.
And now she needed to use it.
Think, Wren. Think. If she was going to figure out a way to remove the cuff and escape the encampment, then she needed to try to uncover high-level security information. She needed to go to the place where she knew Edith and the other generals kept their belongings.
Onyx Unit.
It was a risk. But it also might be her only chance to investigate. Three days. That was all she and August had left to try to find a way out. Which meant if Wren was going to do something stupid…she had to do it now.
Don’t think.
Just move.
Wren sucked in a sharp breath and strode forward.
Luckily, it was late enough that most Demiens had retired for the evening, though a few stragglers lingered, chatting by the crackling glow of a bonfire.
Wren kept her head bowed and gaze lowered, careful not to make eye contact with anyone around her.
It didn’t take long for her to make her way out of Silver Unit and into the heart of the cavern. She thought back on earlier that morning, when Quinn and Arthur had given her the tour of the cavern.
The western tunnel is for Onyx.
Wren pivoted to the right, careful to keep her steps light and hurried.
But something caught her attention as she approached the entrance to the western tunnel…
a hooded black cloak dangling from a post. She reached out her hand, quickly grabbing the cloak and tossing it over her shoulders, tightening the hood around her head.
It wasn’t the best disguise, but she hoped it would be enough.
She entered the western tunnel, placing the lock of hair inside a pocket in the cloak. As she slowly slid her hand out of the pocket, her knuckles brushed something sharp and cold. A knife. Not exactly the most useful weapon against Demiens, but at least it was something.
With that tiny shred of hope, Wren made her way into Onyx Unit.
It was quiet. Eerily so. Unlike Silver Unit, which was usually bustling with activity and laughter, a dense silence pierced the air of Onyx Unit.
No light emanated from any of the dozens of tents, though that didn’t surprise her, given how late it was.
But there was also a strange pressure in the air.
A tension thick enough to drown in. Wren winced as loose earth crunched beneath her boots.
Every tiny sound seemed to echo. As if even the soft rattle of her breath might be enough to raise an alarm.
Wren was considering abandoning her plan when a faint noise echoed in the distance.
Her head snapped up. She squinted, attempting to peer through the opaque darkness.
And that was when she saw it. Up ahead, looming near the center of the cavern, was another tent.
It was larger than any of the others she had seen—almost like a domed circus tent, though the fabric itself was a midnight black that appeared to shimmer with starlight.
She approached the tent cautiously, careful to keep her steps light.
Just beyond the entrance, she could hear the deep rumble of voices.
“…understand your strategy, High General, but isn’t it best we resume the sessions as soon as possible?
” a muffled voice asked. “The catalyst must be awoken. We are running out of time. We’ve gotten word that the Resistance has uncovered something…
concerning. Something that could put them at an advantage. ”
A resistance? Wren’s heart surged. Maybe there was hope after all.
“Their silly tactics are of no concern to me.” Edith. The High General’s smooth voice echoed with authority. “Tell me, Commander, do you not trust in the Soulless One’s plan? Do you doubt his timing?”
“Of—of course not!” the other voice sputtered defensively. “I…I simply wonder…if it would behoove us to—”
“It would behoove you to remember your place,” Edith cut in, silencing them. “The Soulless One will call upon the girl when she is ready. And I will resume the sessions when I sense that it is necessary.”
“Has there been no change?” Another person spoke up. “Nothing at all?”
“Not from what I gather,” Edith replied with a sigh. “She remains…stagnant. The vision is still concealed.”
The vision? Was that what Edith was trying to get Wren to see by forcing her back into the past? Was that what they were waiting for? Wren had stepped closer, desperate to learn more, when a heaviness settled upon the nape of her neck.
A presence.
I’m not alone.
Before Wren could react, a hand was grabbing her by the waist, pulling her backward, another hand clamped tightly over her mouth. She tried to scream, but the sound was muffled in her throat, and then she was being thrown into another tent, swallowed by darkness.
She prepared her body for a fight, but as soon as she stumbled into the tent, her attacker dropped their hands.
Using the freedom to her advantage, Wren unsheathed the knife from her cloak and spun on her heels, thrusting the pointed edge of the blade toward her attacker.
But before the tip of the knife could make contact with flesh, a hand was wrapped around her wrist, stopping her.
August.
A confusing mix of fear and relief erupted inside Wren.
“What are you doing?” she said, seething, staring up at him defiantly.
“What am I doing?” August let out a bitter chuckle, lowering his voice.
“What are you doing?” His eyes skated to the blade pressed against his neck.
Wren wasn’t sure if she imagined it, but she swore she saw a flicker of amusement in his silver eyes.
“And how the hell did you manage to get a knife?”
“That’s none of your business,” Wren huffed.
August rolled his eyes. He still hadn’t let go of her wrist, though he loosened his grip slightly.
“Where are Quinn and Arthur? They should be watching you.”
“First off, I don’t need babysitters,” Wren shot back. She unearthed the lock of hair from her cloak. “And somebody left this in my tent. It let me bypass the barrier. Was it you?”
August squinted at the lock of hair, brows cinched together. “No,” he replied. “It wasn’t.”
Wren shrugged, shoving it back into the cloak. “Well. It looks like we’ve got somebody else on our side, then.”
August let out a low groan of frustration. “Loughty…do you understand how difficult it was for me to convince Edith to stop torturing you? If she finds out you’ve been sneaking around Onyx Unit…” His voice trailed off, teeth digging into his bottom lip. Wren had never seen him look so panicked.
“How did you convince her, anyway?” Wren asked, stepping closer.
“I…” August swallowed. He balled his free hand into a tight fist, then stretched out his fingers as he searched for the right words. “I tried to think like her. To suggest something that would appeal to her…motivations.”
“And what did you suggest?” Wren asked.
August hesitated.
“I told her that your mind might be more…malleable…if she gave you time to acclimate,” he confessed, voice rough. “That if she let you grow comfortable, if she found a way to lower your guard…that you’d be easier to break.”
Wren shivered. A part of her couldn’t help but fear how easily August could tap into his sister’s mindset. How seamlessly he fit into their world.
“Good.” Wren swallowed back the tight knot in her throat.
“I also told her to wait until after Equinox,” August added. “I don’t know if she’ll listen, but so far it seems to have worked.” He let out a sigh, running a hand through his curls. “Which is exactly why it’s so reckless for you to be investigating alone.”
“You’re the one who said we needed to find a way out of here!” Wren snapped back.