Chapter 33 Are We There Yet?
Are We There Yet?
They travelled through the backcountry, following the river as their guide. It weaved between mountains that rose like giants, making the ones they’d crossed days ago seem like hills.
Luna trailed behind Damien and Gregory, her steps slow. Exhaustion weighed down on her, and pain gnawed at her body—persistent, but at least no longer all-consuming thanks to Gregory.
Every few moments, Damien glanced over his shoulder to check on her, his eyes lingering long enough to ensure she was still keeping pace.
Gregory was in mid-story, recounting his escape, and Luna welcomed the distraction. It gave her mind something solid to hold onto, pulling her thoughts away from the camp and everything that had happened there.
After they had separated outside Grythorn, he’d led the guards far south before losing them.
He ditched the gown in some nameless village, then went north to Kalt Ravine.
“I couldn’t believe how many guards were out looking for you two,” Gregory said, with a small whinny.
“The skies must have blessed me since none of them recognized me without that awful dress.”
“And now we know the perfect disguise for you if a situation ever calls for it,” Damien said with a snort.
Gregory swished his tail, prancing ahead with his nose high. “Sign me up for another ball gown diversion any day,” he said, but the joke stumbled a little at the end. He glanced back, as if realizing it might’ve landed wrong. “You know . . . anything’s better than walking through this wilderness.”
“It wasn’t that bad . . .” Damien looked over his shoulder at Luna, his eyes soft. “I had some pretty nice company with me.”
She dropped her head, letting her muzzle brush against the stalks of grass. How could they laugh and tease after everything? Just existing took everything she had. How she wished she could go back to the last night they’d shared before everything shattered.
Undisturbed by her silence, Gregory rambled on, oblivious.
He marvelled at how every village he passed already had guards searching for her.
Damien chimed in, recounting how a baby’s cry had distracted the guards long enough to ease their suspicions about Luna’s identity.
The memory tightened Luna’s chest like a closing fist.
“We weren’t that lucky,” she said hollowly. “Taemin betrayed us. That’s how the king’s men found me.”
Damien gave no sign he’d heard her. He simply kept walking, his back rigid, his face hidden.
Not a word. The silence between them was heavier than any accusation.
Yet Luna felt the words as surely as if he’d spoken them: I told you humans couldn’t be trusted.
If only she had listened. Maybe she would’ve escaped him and the king alike. Maybe none of this would have happened.
But there was no point in chasing what-ifs.
Better to just keep walking. One step at a time, until she figured out what came next.
Sensing the tension but unsure how to fix it, Gregory dove into another story. He talked about winning the horses in a poker game—bridles, saddles, and all—and when that ran dry, he spoke of the weather, the trees, anything to fill the silence.
Damien slowed his steps, matching Luna’s pace, brushing lightly against her side. She stiffened, her muscles locking so tightly it hurt. Instinct screamed through her veins—not again, not again, not again—and she jerked away, moving so sharply she nearly stumbled.
And then, she froze.
The world narrowed to the feeling of her skin—too tight, too raw—straining against the fear that clawed at her chest. Her hooves planted themselves uselessly in the dirt.
She didn’t dare move. She didn’t dare breathe.
Her heart battered itself against her ribs, but the rest of her stayed locked, like a trapped prisoner.
She knew it was Damien—Damien—and not the humans who had carved agony into her bones—but her body didn’t care.
Terror didn’t listen to reason. Terror was a knife pressed against her, humming with memory.
Damien must have seen it, sensed it—because something in his expression withered before he turned away, like he couldn’t bear the truth written so plainly between them.
She feared him. Feared everyone.
And if she were to dive deep within herself, she knew she blamed him for it.
He turned away quickly, but she noticed the way something inside him folded inward, wounded deeper than any blow could reach.
Shame burned through her, hollowing her out. Hot and acid-sharp, it filled her chest until she could barely breathe.
She hated herself for it.
Hated how easily she recoiled, how she stood there now, trembling like some beaten dog.
He hadn’t touched her, not really. Still, she couldn’t stop it.
Maybe she deserved it. Deserved all of it.
“Eloria isn’t far from here,” he said, the familiar mask of calm sliding into place. “You’ll be safe, unreachable to humans soon.”
Safe.
She almost laughed—almost choked on it.
There was no safety anymore.
Not from humans.
Not from magic.
Not even from him.
She kept her head down, the ground blurring beneath her. Moving her hooves mechanically, her body ached with the effort it took to pretend she was still whole. Each step forward felt like dragging herself through broken glass, barefoot, bleeding, with nowhere left to go but forward.
She swallowed down the rising panic, tasting blood where she had bitten the inside of her cheek, and somehow forced her legs to keep moving.
She didn’t trust herself to speak. If she cracked—even a little—he might hear it. Might realize she knew about his plans with the Darkened One and lock her away before she ever reached freedom.
The day wore on, fading into dusk.
The river, once a steady guide, had grown treacherous as the land changed.
Its banks were badly eroded, crumbling into the churning current.
Cold grey water slammed against rocks, carving the earth away bit by bit.
They were forced to veer inland, skirting the worst of the broken terrain in search of a safer place to cross.
As they walked, Luna’s thoughts drifted.
She missed the simplicity of her life before magic—before unicorns, kings, and betrayal. What she wouldn’t give to return to her family: to her sister’s laughter, her father’s advice, her mother’s gentle hands. Back to palace routines, where the worst thing she had to fear was a scraped knee.
But there was no going back. That life was gone.
She needed to look ahead.
When she reached Eloria and was finally freed from Damien’s shadow, she would have a chance at something new.
At least, that was the hope she clung to.
A small, fraying hope—because deep down, a colder voice whispered: What if there was no real freedom waiting for her at all?
The river’s roar gradually faded as they pressed on. The wild current broke apart, branching into smaller, quieter streams that wove through the valley.
They crossed where the water ran shallow, stepping carefully over the slick stones, the cold soaking into their hooves with every step.
For what felt like hours, they followed a narrow brook, the terrain softening around them, until at last a wide, empty meadow opened before them—the place where the barrier’s hole awaited.
The entrance to the hole was barely noticeable. It lay tucked between two flat, half-buried stones, camouflaged by the waving grass and bursts of wildflowers. Even though Damien and Gregory knew roughly where to look, it still took them nearly half an hour to find it.
“It’s over here!” Damien called, scraping away the dirt and grass with his hooves to reveal dark charcoal-grey stone beneath.
As Luna approached, she felt the air shift—dense, like a storm about to break, but also stifling, like standing too close to a roaring fire.
It wasn’t heat from the sun or the weight of humidity pressing against her; it was magic.
Thick, heavy, and electric, it clung to her coat, pulling her towards the stones.
The closer she moved, the stronger it grew. Magic seemed to radiate from the very ground beneath her hooves, as if Eloria itself had been waiting for them to find its hidden entrance—and now that they had, it couldn’t contain itself.
“See you on the other side,” Gregory announced, striding forward between the two stones without so much as a glance over his shoulder. The barrier rippled around him, his form blurring like a mirage, then he faded entirely, leaving only the low hum of magic in the air.
Damien lingered nearby, the wind tossing his black mane and tail. “Are you ready?” His voice was low, as if he wasn’t sure she would follow if he went first.
Luna looked down at the stones, where faded writing had been etched into the surface. The letters were curved in rough cursive, barely legible in some places.
Do not pass. Returning not guaranteed.
Damien caught her glance. “It’s a warning,” he said, answering the question Luna hadn’t yet asked, “for any humans who find the realm’s entrance.”
A warning she could easily dismiss—there would be no need to return here.
Yes, she’d miss her family, but the only future Grythorn offered her was as a magic reservoir for King Hendrix. She would rather die than let him have her.
An ache tightened in her chest, but she pushed it aside. Without hesitation, Luna nodded.
“I wish I had gotten to you sooner,” Damien said, his voice breaking through her thoughts. “I’m sorry.”
Was he trying to sweeten her up, lull her back into trusting him with that easy charm?
Raging-hot anger flowed through her like a river, but the only outward sign she allowed was the furious lash of her tail against her rump.
She hadn’t expected a confession of guilt, and she couldn’t find it within herself to answer him.
Despite knowing she needed to keep up the facade, she couldn’t even look at him.
Damien drew in a deep breath, shifting his weight so his hind leg rested on the tip of his hoof. “I should have told you the truth from the start. About . . .” He shook his head. “Never mind. It doesn’t matter now.”
She swallowed dryly, forcing down her temper and burying it, alongside everything else she couldn’t afford to feel.
He stepped closer, reaching out to nuzzle her neck.
Luna instinctively stepped back, putting space between them.
He stiffened, the movement halting in his muscles, and for a heartbeat, pain flickered across his face before he forced it away, his body going rigid with the effort.
His voice was clipped, princely manners sliding into place. “There’s a process we’ll have to go through to enter the realm . . .”
Luna pawed at the ground impatiently. “I said I was ready.”
Damien dipped his head in acknowledgment but didn’t move.
Instead, something in his posture eased slightly; the rigid line of his shoulders loosened. When he spoke again, his voice was low, a soothing murmur, “Guard your light. Don’t let their wrongdoings push you into darkness. They win if you give them that.”
Words of wisdom—ones she wasn’t ready to hear.
“I can’t talk about it,” she hissed, killing the conversation.
Damien didn’t argue. Just drew in a slow breath, turned, and guided her towards the stone, into Eloria.