Chapter 5
Hannah
Alonger, more piercing screech ripped through the air, causing my ears to ring. The ground trembled hard enough that the post at my back rattled, and outside, something snapped with the loud crack of a falling tree.
For a heartbeat, I froze, my breath stuck in my throat. The soldiers had been preparing to sacrifice me to some nightmare tree, and now the mountain itself sounded like it had decided to join the party.
That sounded about right with my luck.
More glass vials rattled across the tables while men outside shouted with panic. Judging by the chaos erupting beyond the canvas walls, whatever was attacking had absolutely no intention of behaving politely.
"What in the void—" Keldren spun toward the tent entrance.
The Night General moved, dropping his hand to the sword at his hip. "With me. Now."
They swept out through the tent flap without a backward glance, leaving me alone as the camp erupted into chaos. My heart hammered against my ribs while their footsteps disappeared. My brain struggled to catch up. They had walked out and left me tied to the post like an afterthought.
Either Fate had just handed me the luckiest break of my life, or I was about to run straight into the world’s most elaborate trap.
Another screech tore across the hollow, and the ground shuddered again.
Either way, sitting here waiting to be sacrificed was definitely not the better option. This was it. My chance.
I threw myself against the ropes with everything I had, no longer caring about subtlety.
The frayed strands bit into my raw skin as I twisted and pulled, feeling the weakened fibers stretch and snap.
Another screech tore through the night, closer now, accompanied by the heavy beat of massive wings and screams of terror from the soldiers outside.
"Solumbra eagle!" someone bellowed. "It's a solumbra eagle! Get to cover!"
“It’s angry!” another voice shrieked.
The ground shuddered again as something enormous slammed into stone. Men shouted orders that dissolved into panicked cries, and yet another ear-piercing screech ripped through the air.
I wrenched my wrists apart, and the rope finally gave way with a satisfying snap. My hands were free.
Pins and needles screamed through my fingers as blood rushed back into them, though it wasn’t nearly as bad as it had been earlier.
I clawed at the gag, ripping the disgusting cloth from my mouth before dragging in lungfuls of freezing air.
Blood and bile coated my tongue, but I’d never tasted anything sweeter than freedom.
Assuming this was actually freedom.
Flashes from the movie The Wicker Man slammed into my brain. They’d let him run and believe he had escaped, all while quietly steering him right back into the trap so he could be sacrificed.
More or less.
What if this were the same thing?
"It’s a bad omen!" a voice cracked with fear somewhere nearby. "Fate is angry with us! We should—"
"Steady!" Istos barked, though even his commanding tone sounded strained.
“Do not attack it!” The Night General’s voice thundered across the hollow. “Do not harm the solumbra eagle. Move back from the tree. Get whatever meat we have.”
Another massive impact shuddered through the ground. Then a man screamed, but the sound ended abruptly.
Trap or not, this opportunity was far too good to waste.
I bent forward and attacked the ropes at my ankles, my numb fingers fumbling with the knot. Come on. Come on. The rope had been tied tighter here, but the slack I’d created earlier gave me just enough room to work. I dug my fingernails into the fibers and twisted until the knot finally shifted.
It loosened, and I yanked one foot free.
Then the other.
The rope fell away, and I shoved myself upright. My legs wobbled as if I had just stumbled out of a bar after a few too many drinks.
The tent swayed, and I grabbed the edge of the nearest table to steady myself.
Glass crunched under my boots where shattered vials littered the ground.
Outside, soldiers shouted conflicting orders while others simply ran.
Massive wingbeats thundered through the air overhead, followed by another bone-rattling screech that vibrated through my teeth.
Whatever that eagle was, it sounded even bigger than the wyverns the Night Court had sent after us weeks ago.
Which was honestly impressive, but I didn’t have time to stand here in awe.
I had to get moving before it swooped me up and ate me for dinner…
or breakfast. With what time it could be, it could be either one. Dinfast?
Dammit, Hannah. Focus.
To survive outside, I’d need more clothing and supplies. I scanned the tent, cataloging everything in desperate seconds. Tables cluttered with books and vials. Hanging bundles of herbs. Shelves packed with jars full of preserved horrors that I absolutely did not want to identify.
Then I saw it, making my heart skip a beat.
A glint of metal on the second table.
Hope sparked through my chest as I lunged across the tent, shoving books aside until my fingers closed around a dagger in an ornate sheath. The blade curved slightly when I pulled it free, the dark metal etched with interlocking runes that caught the lantern light.
It looked ceremonial.
Ceremonial blades could still cut, and I wasn’t picky. But the opportunity to escape with the ceremonial blade was super sus.
"The tree!" someone wailed. "Watch out for the tree! It’s splitting!"
Another screech ripped across the hollow, and the ground shuddered so hard that one of the tables collapsed, sending its contents crashing to the floor.
I stumbled but managed to stay upright with the sheathed dagger clutched tight.
I debated making a run for it right now, bursting out of the tent and sprinting into the chaos like a lion, but more realistically like a terrified squirrel.
Then my brain caught up with something important.
The chest.
It might contain clothing, and earlier, the Night General had placed something inside it. He’d been careful about it too, deliberate in a way that suggested it mattered. That meant whatever was inside was either valuable or useful, and right now, I would happily accept either.
Preferably both.
I just hoped it didn’t have some sort of magical locking mechanism that would explode in my face the second I touched it. Because that would absolutely track with how life had been going here lately.
I picked my way through the debris to the chest, which sat exactly where I remembered it. Plain dark wood reinforced with iron bands and, thank every possible deity, no visible lock.
This again seemed too easy, but I refused to sit here and wait to be slaughtered.
I dropped to my knees on the packed earth and threw open the lid.
Supplies. Actual, glorious supplies, organized neatly by dividers. Thank Fate.
The section on the right held clothing. I dug through the top layer until I found a heavy wool cloak as dark as midnight. It was obviously meant for a man, but it looked thick and warm, which made it perfect. I tossed it beside me and kept digging.
Beneath several folded garments were gloves lined with fur, followed by a stack of wool socks in varying shades of gray and black. Trousers and tunics were layered beneath them, along with belts, scarves, and handkerchiefs.
It was a travel trunk similar to the one Kai had packed for his trip.
The thought of him fell like a punch to the gut, but I forced the pain aside. I didn’t have time to spiral about him right now… maybe later.
At the bottom of the clothing stack sat a large pair of boots. Definitely too big, but still better than freezing my toes off.
I shifted to the other side of the chest into the far-left divider, which held the inkpot the Night General had placed inside earlier.
I picked it up and turned it over in my hands with a frown. It wasn’t empty.
Dark liquid sloshed inside when I tilted it, and when I unscrewed the lid, the sharp chemical scent of actual ink hit my nose. Just ink. Nothing glowing. Nothing smoking. Nothing screaming “powerful magical artifact.” At least, not from what my nonmagical nose could tell.
The glass itself was dark, but the emblem carved into the side caught my attention. A full moon hovered above a sun over a single horizontal line. The sun was rising, its rays stretching upward until they touched the moon.
I stared at it and scowled. What the hell did that mean? I had no clue, but something about it felt important.
I screwed the lid back on, wrapped the bottle inside a sock, then shoved that inside the matching sock before tucking the bundle aside. A small voice in my head insisted this thing mattered, and my instincts had kept me alive this long.
I dug through the rest of the compartments. A few items carried the same strange emblem, though none of them looked particularly useful. Quills, parchment, a pair of small knives, tins of dried herbs, and several vials of dark liquid that I was not about to taste test.
I snagged a pair of trousers and a tunic, then stripped out of my torn dress with shaking hands. Cold air bit into my exposed skin, raising goosebumps along my arms and legs.
The tunic hung loosely on my frame, clearly designed for someone with broader shoulders. The trousers tried to slide straight down my hips the second I pulled them on.
Fantastic.
I grabbed a leather belt and cinched it tight around my waist. Then I tore strips from the ruined dress and wrapped them around the loose sleeves so they wouldn’t flop around like sad fabric noodles while I ran for my life.
Not elegant, but functional.
I shoved my feet into one pair of gray wool socks, then another.
Then I eyed the oversized boots and grimaced.