The skies were thick with blood.
Warm and crimson, it showered through the canopy of dead branches, clinging and soaking into the blackened wood. It ran in rivulets down their trunks, merging into rancid streams. To later dry upon the mountainside in a coagulated crust.
It took a special kind of person to see the abyssal rain, and Kaycia, unfortunately, wasn’t one of them. To her, it was as though the blood wasn’t there. She had to picture it in her mind—the viscous globs pelting her leather hood and the warm humidity against her face.
It was damn unfair.
The problem wasn’t that Kaycia wanted to see blood—she’d never been fascinated by the bleak and morbid. No, the real issue was that she’d wasted seven years of her life chasing a dream. She’d gone against her mother’s will and given up a reputable apprenticeship in bone smithing. She’d put everything into her training, all with the expectation that her eyes would be opened—to not only see the rain but the abyssal current itself.
In the end, her vision remained unchanged. Instead of setting things right, she’d ended up like her father. Two weeks ago, her rites of ascendancy failed, and there were no second chances.
From beneath her leather hood, as she rode alongside the rocking, armored carriage, Kaycia saw nothing to distinguish this afternoon from any other. There was nothing unusual in the pale buttermilk sky or the crunch of autumn grass beneath the mounted mercenaries. The air itself wasn’t scented with copper but sweet, dry cedar.
Were it not for Tenlen’s warning—reminding her to keep her dark red hair safely tucked within her hood—it might’ve been easy to believe there was no rain at all.
Her mare’s step faltered, giving a snort and shaking its mane with irritation.
“It’s miserable, I know,” said Kaycia, stroking the horse’s neck. Its slick black hair felt strangely dry. She could feel how the rain made it clump together, though she couldn’t feel the stickiness itself.
Still, it’d been her choice not to ride inside the carriage. Instead of relaxing with her sister and the other two women, she’d sought a different kind of peace. Outside, at least, she could pretend to be useful.
More than that, she wanted to observe the mercenaries. Like her, these men couldn’t see the blood, either, and yet here they were, risking life and limb. Days away from the nearest populated village.
Perhaps she, too, could find new purpose as a sentry.
Urging her mare forward, she came up beside Tenlen, their group’s ascendant, who was stooped forward, driving the carriage from beneath a black canvas overhang. Shoulder-length iron hair hung beneath the brim of his rawhide hat. Only his stern face was visible, with his body hidden beneath the folds of his cloak, or wrapped in cloth bandages.
She bit her lip. “I thought you checked the ropes.”
Tenlen worked his mouth in distaste. “Wearing thin already? This damn corrosive weather...”
“They’re not going to last,” Kaycia insisted. “Perhaps, if we moved the heavier cookware inside—”
“Can’t stop,” he said with a deranged smile. “We’re being followed—don’t turn your head.”
Without the warning, Kaycia might’ve done just that, and it took effort to keep her eyes forward on the six riders in front—a number far fewer than was typical these days. She felt a chill at the thought of something back there, watching through the trees. But looking back wouldn’t have done her much good anyway. Whatever followed them would be as invisible as the rain.
All the same, she found herself straining to hear anything above the fall of hooves and the bump and jolt of the carriage. The faint scrape of claws against the hard-packed earth. A rustling through the grass. The held breath of anticipation. But the forest was as empty and dead as it’d been since leaving Wern’s Hold two days ago.
Her hand almost went to her spear at her shoulder, but she stopped herself. These weren’t mindless creatures, and she had to be careful of such absentminded gestures. At moments like these, she had to trust in her training. She’d practiced drawing her weapon on time in the event of an ambush. If needed, she also had knives at her waist and a loaded crossbow clasped to the saddlebag behind her.
“Now, I need you to stay calm,” he continued. “Don’t start anything out of the ordinary, you hear?”
She nodded and drew her mare closer to the wagon. She lowered her voice just enough to be heard above the horses. “Did you get a good look at it?”
Tenlen merely grunted. “Not really.”
Kaycia hid her frustration. Here she was, trying to understand a threat only he could see, and he didn’t seem to care.
Gingerly, she pressed further, “I mean, what if you only thought—?”
“Thought what?” he asked, with a scowl. “You think I would’ve said anything if I wasn’t sure?”
“I meant no disrespect.”
“I know you didn’t,” he said, softening his tone. “But look... This conduct might’ve worked with your professors—but out here, on the road, it’s not your job to question your ascendant officer.”
“Yes, sir,” she said, feeling foolish. After years of speaking casually with ascendants, it was a habit she found difficult to break. Tenlen had reminded her, more than once on this trip, to act deferential—but, this time, he seemed less patient than usual. And she realized she’d never seen him quite so on edge.
The ivory, indirect sunlight deepened as the trees down the path grew closer together. The widest trunks were over six feet across, with crisscrossed branches that twisted like thorn bushes. It was beautiful, in a way—not at all like the world Tenlen saw. And it wasn’t just the blood...or the monsters.
Within the abyssal current, it was always dark, as though the sun itself had cooled into ash. There was no moon, either. No stars. It was a wonder ascendants could see anything at all.
Kaycia couldn’t deny she’d been terrified by the prospect of entering that nightmare world. There had been times these past years when she’d climbed onto her dormitory’s roof to watch the sunset. It’d been her way of making peace with never seeing daylight again. Kaycia still remembered how sad she’d felt, and how a part of her had hoped her ceremony would fail.
But when that failure became a reality, Kaycia became even more confused. The relief she’d expected never came. And while she was glad to see the sun, it’d come to represent everything denied her.
She adjusted her grip on the reins. “I’ll ride to the front and inform the captain.”
“What did I tell you?” he asked. “Just sit tight. No sudden movements. The men will know soon enough.”
His condescending tone sent heat through her face. A simple ride forward was unlikely to provoke an attack. If anything, the warning would make the men more alert. More primed to respond.
Besides, shouldn’t Captain Veldt be making these decisions? While it was true Tenlen held seniority as their only ascendant, he’d chosen to defer his command to Veldt. She didn’t completely understand the arrangement but sensed it was related to Tenlen’s advanced age.
Her lips parted, preparing to argue, but she stopped herself.
There was something in Tenlen’s poise—an unsteadiness in the way his bandaged hands gripped the reins. It was nothing so evident as sweaty skin or shaky palms. Outwardly, he appeared tired—bored, even—but it was likely a cover. An effort to conceal how tightly he was stretched.
Rather than take risks, he was delaying the attack as long as possible. Long enough, perhaps, to reach the abandoned village she’d heard the others mention earlier. They were supposed to get there by nightfall.
“You can tell me,” she said, keeping her tone aloof. “I won’t panic. How many did you see?”
He hesitated, meeting her gaze, before turning away.
Kaycia swallowed hard.
Traveling with such a small escort was a gamble, but they hadn’t much choice. Neither Kaycia, her sister, nor Marien—her financial sponsor—could afford the more prestigious caravans. The Lady Marien had invested nearly all her wealth into Kaycia’s schooling, and yet, she’d insisted on paying this final traveling expense. They’d take this carriage back to Carheim together before splitting ways. Unfortunately, with insurance premiums on the rise, they couldn’t afford more than a single elderly ascendant.
This was not to say small companies were always bad. In many ways, small escorts had proven equally effective as larger ones, due to their speed and tendency to draw less attention. Kaycia herself had traveled with similar groups in the past without incident.
But the countryside was getting worse.
There was little point in deceiving herself. They might’ve fended off a single attacker—two, at most. Any more than that, and there’d be no battle. It’d be more of a chaotic retreat—a desperate struggle to keep ahead of the invisible onslaught.
Kaycia would end up dead like her father.
All because her ceremony had failed.
“Could you give me a guess?” she asked. “How many there are?”
His grimace was sober. “Hard to say... More than I’d like. If you keep asking questions, I won’t hear them coming.”
And with that, she said no more.
Not fifteen minutes later, the riders stopped in front.
“What’s going on?” asked Kaycia.
Tenlen shook his head, clearly nervous. “Go ahead,” he said. “Check it out.”
She nodded and urged her horse into a canter.
Like most hunters or mercenaries, their group wore hoods and matching livery—faded black cloth embroidered with a golden seagull. But, unlike most companies, their assortment of armor was a mismatched array of shapes and shades. This was either an indication they saw combat frequently—with a continuous need to replace damaged gear—or their earnings weren’t consistent enough to afford more than scraps. Out of sheer hope, Kaycia preferred to believe the former.
When she reached the front, the leading riders were in a heated debate.
“We can’t just stand here,” said Roke, one of the men near Kaycia’s age.
“I’m well aware,” hissed Captain Veldt, controlling his tone with difficulty.
Their eyes looked ahead as though searching for something.
As Kaycia brought her horse beside them, she found no obstructions. They weren’t looking for a way around, as she might’ve expected, had the land been washed away by floodwater.
No. The dirt road was simply gone. Not destroyed, but more as though the road had never existed. The forest looked the same on all sides, with no discernible signs of which way to go.
“I say we keep straight,” said Roke. “We’ve been going the right direction, so sooner or later, we’ll find where it picks up, you think?”
The captain grimaced but didn’t disagree. He appeared to be weighing their options.
“You’re wrong,” said another man. “We lost the road at the stream. I told you that wasn’t no deer trail!”
“Give it a rest,” said Roke. “You even stepped in deer shit. We all saw.”
“And?”
None of this helped Kaycia feel better.
“Haven’t you traveled through here before?” she asked, unwilling to believe Marien would’ve hired mercenaries with such poor experience.
“Not recently,” said one. “Been what? Ten years?”
When a few others admitted this was their first time through Graywood Pass, Kaycia became increasingly appalled.
“I have,” said Veldt. “But that’s not the problem.”
Everyone turned as the carriage rolled to a stop behind them.
Tenlen met the captain’s eyes and, in a raised voice, confirmed his suspicion. “The forest is moving.”
“The hell?” asked Roke.
Kaycia, however, understood. It was a possibility that’d worried her since learning of their route. The only reason she hadn’t said anything was because she’d expected these men’s experiences to outweigh her own.
The young man, too uncomfortable to look at the misshapen ascendant, directed his question at Kaycia. “What does he mean, moving?”
“More like changing,” she clarified. “People don’t talk about it much, but it’s the risk you take the further you travel from civilization.” She shook her head. “None of this would’ve happened if we’d taken the main thoroughfare.”
“I agree,” said the captain.
His reaction confused her because Veldt wasn’t the sort to admit his mistakes. There wasn’t, however, any remorse in his tone. If anything, he sounded angry.
Did she have it wrong, then? Until that moment, she’d assumed this was his idea. And he’d chosen Graywood Pass based on personal experience.
But Veldt wasn’t really in charge, now, was he?
Marien was the one paying these men.
Kaycia frowned. She’d known Marien’s family most of her life and couldn’t think why the lady hadn’t consulted her first.
“We need a plan, now!” said Tenlen.
Kaycia shot the ascendant a wide-eyed look, as though to ask if the creatures had finally caught up.
Tenlen shook his head. “The rain is making us difficult to see. They’re holding back—waiting for the storm to pass.”
At this, the men exchanged nervous glances.
Kaycia swallowed, wondering if it could be so simple. So it wasn’t luck they hadn’t yet been attacked, but poor visibility?
Everyone agreed something needed to be done, but no decisions were being made.
That’s when a woman’s shout came from the carriage. “One moment!”
The side panel had been opened. The shadows within made it difficult to see, but it seemed as though the lady was leafing through some notebooks.
“Yes, here!” shouted Marien. She then leaned her upper body out the window. Her dark brown hair was a mess—a loose bun surrounded by several strays. She didn’t seem bothered by the exposure to the blood—at least, not as much as she cared to be understood.
Kaycia looked where the woman was pointing.
“That peak above us...” said Marien. “We’re in the right place. All we need do is find the ravine between this peak...and that one there. You see it? Above those elms?”
“You’re certain?” asked Veldt.
“Without a doubt.”
At once, Kaycia felt both surprise and reassurance. This not only confirmed they’d been traveling the right way, but that Marien had planned for this. The lady was wise to use mountains as landmarks, as their size made them more resistant to changes in the forest.
“You heard her! Move!”
Captain Veldt turned to the man nearest him. “Not you, Roke. I want you to drive the carriage. I’ll feel better if Tenlen has his hands free.”
When the captain turned to the ascendant, the older man nodded in gratitude.
Only Roke seemed to think this a bad idea, but he handed his horse into another rider’s care.
Tenlen slid to one side, a crossbow clutched between his hands, as the younger man took the reins and got them moving again.
For the first time, Kaycia felt some relief. Here was proof these men could behave like professionals, which made her willing to give Marien the benefit of the doubt. For all she knew, finding men more experienced with the region was impossible.
The problem was that no one traveled here anymore.
Kaycia rode silently beside the large wheels, listening carefully for anything unusual.
Once she felt reasonably certain an attack wasn’t imminent—that the creatures were indeed waiting for the rain to subside—she leaned over and rapped her knuckles against the wooden panel.
No one answered.
She became insistent and shouted, “Marien!” before knocking a second time.
The panel slid open, not by the lady but by Kaycia’s younger sister, Elyriel.
A girl of fifteen, she was nearing the age when Kaycia had begun her training—except Elyriel had no interest in becoming an ascendant. She’d been content to let that be Kaycia’s thing, but was yet to decide what she’d rather do instead.
Deep shadows concealed most of the girl’s face but not her sullen mood. “Marien doesn’t want to talk right now.”
Kaycia groaned. “Damn it, Marien!” She leaned over to bang on the wood once more. “This is no time to hide!”
From inside came an exasperated sigh.
“What is it, girl?”
There was movement as Elyriel switched places with the woman.
For her advanced age, she wasn’t unattractive, with deep green eyes and a few streaks of silver hair. Her facial lines were faint and more suggestive of a cheerful demeanor than otherwise. Her body was thin and donned with the refined, ochre dress of someone accustomed to getting her way.
Kaycia grit her teeth. “Graywood Pass?” she asked, getting directly to the point. “You never mentioned this was your idea! What the hell are we doing here?”
“Watch your tone, young woman!”
“Or what?!”
It felt strange to yell at Marien, who, in many ways, had become like her second mother—one who appreciated Kaycia more than her birth mother had. For the past seven years, the woman hadn’t only paid for Kaycia’s tuition, food, and clothing—she’d also covered Elyriel’s needs. This, alone, went far beyond the terms of their contract.
The woman had done more than enough to earn her loyalty and respect, and Kaycia felt guilty for speaking so forcefully. But Kaycia was furious. Not for the woman’s secrets or her reckless planning, but the fact she’d included her sister in this danger.
“Look,” said Marien. “I didn’t want to come here. There wouldn’t have been a need had you only—”
“Had I only, what?”
Kaycia knew exactly what Marien was going to say and was outraged the woman would pin this on her—on the failed ceremony that neither of them anticipated.
Marien said nothing.
Taking a deep breath, Kaycia realized this was a poor moment to take offense. Her failure, after all, hadn’t only ruined her life but Marien’s as well.
If it was desperation, however, that’d driven the lady into Graywood Pass, the important thing, now, was to find out why. And Kaycia would get no closer to those answers by behaving like a petulant child.
She swallowed. “Just tell me what we’re doing. What’s out here, Marien?”
The lady hesitated, then said, “We’re almost there. Once we clear the ravine, you’ll see Hebril. It’s an old village nestled between these mountains.”
Kaycia had never heard of a village by that name.
Undoubtedly, it was the place the others mentioned earlier—an abandoned ruin. Until now, Kaycia had assumed it was nothing more than a rest stop—a safe place to camp for the night before passing through.
“This village—is it defensible?”
Marien appeared surprised—then uncertain. “I’m not the right person to ask that question.”
Kaycia clenched her teeth in frustration.
The lady frowned. “There was mention of a tower, I think...” Then, she shook her head. “To be honest, my only information is what my husband wrote down. This all comes from his notes. They were never meant to be comprehensive.”
“So you look it up! Gods, Marien! Do you even realize how dangerous—?”
Marien raised a hand to stop her. “I tried. But there’s nothing to research. When it comes to Hebril, there are no records.”
Kaycia didn’t know what to say.
“No charters,” continued Marien. “No histories. Not even tax reports.”
While Kaycia trusted the woman, she still found this difficult to believe. “Okay. But couldn’t you have asked someone? I mean, Captain Veldt claims to have traveled here before. There have to be others!”
Marien nodded. “You’re right. Memories don’t disappear so easily as paperwork. But, even so, when it comes to places like Hebril...you can’t just ask anyone. You never know who might be listening.”
“Suppose you’re right—and someone is hiding something. Please, don’t tell me we came all this way to satisfy your curiosity!”
“That’s not it at all,” said the woman with a smile. “We’re out here because we know what’s here—and why. It’s all in the notebook.”
Kaycia hoped Marien would get to the point.
“Hebril might be small for a village, but it has one thing most these places don’t... A monastery.”
Kaycia remained quiet, waiting for more.
A monastery, after all, wasn’t anything special. It provided sacred ground, of course—a location closer to the gods and the aeilic realms than any other. But monasteries were everywhere. In Carheim alone, there were half a dozen.
Marien, however, appeared to be finished.
For a second, Kaycia couldn’t shake her disappointment—as if all this build-up had been for nothing. But then it dawned on her.
This wasn’t just a monastery, but an abandoned monastery. Which meant no monks, no priests. No supervising clergy.
Marien was plotting something—the sort that shouldn’t be discussed out loud.
Kaycia returned her attention to the terrain ahead.
During their conversation, the path had brought them down a gradual slope, converging into the ravine proper. Sheer rock walls rose on both sides, where ancient glaciers had carved through the bedrock between peaks.
Now, however, there was no water to be seen—leaving nothing more than a clear, dry path.
Except...it wasn’t really dry, was it?
If the abyssal rain was as bad as Tenlen suggested, wouldn’t the runoff from both mountains run straight through here? She imagined cascades of blood running down the cliffs in a continuous current against their horses’ legs.
The ascendant, however, didn’t appear concerned, and Kaycia was forced to conclude it wasn’t deep.
Even so, she continued to watch him and was surprised when the man rose to his feet. He hastily took down the canvas overhang, removing the obstruction from his line of sight—and the aim of his crossbow.
“Shut the window,” instructed Kaycia.
Tenlen shouted, “Let’s pick up the pace!”
The riders responded immediately. There was no moment of confusion or need for clarification.
Kaycia pushed her mare forward, maintaining her position beside the carriage.
“What is it?” she asked, looking up at Tenlen.
“Roke!” he shouted. “Get us out of here—now!”
His voice was all wrong.
It was as though her ears had been stuffed with cotton. And it wasn’t just his words that were muffled. Everything, from the creaking wheels to the fall of hooves—to the sound of Kaycia’s breathing—was becoming increasingly difficult to make out.
Oh, gods...! she thought, as she drew her spear—without hearing so much as the scrape of leather. They’re here.
In less than a heartbeat, Tenlen turned, stepped onto his seat, and leaped high above the carriage roof.
Kaycia craned her neck, keeping sight of his dark cloak as it trailed behind him, snapping soundlessly through the air.
The man flew up over fifteen feet—impossible for anyone without an ascendant’s strength—before his trajectory lurched sideways.
At first, Kaycia thought he’d been hit as he was thrown against the ravine wall.
She was forced to turn away—her attention drawn to the rocks ahead—but just before she did, she saw him land on his feet. He’d landed sideways, high above the ground, to stand perpendicular against the stone.
Only then did she realize the truth.
Tenlen’s abilities were not the same ones for which Kaycia had been training. The older man was bound to a different god, a different realm, and a different set of rules.
And while Kaycia had taken time to study each of the eight aspects and their branches of ascendancy, this was her first real chance to see this particular variety—known as Equilibrium—in action.
Kaycia looked back again and saw Tenlen running diagonally down the wall toward the invisible enemy. He was surprisingly agile for a man of his ungainly physique. He made it seem easy, as though the entire world had tilted sideways, and he was running along the ground. From beneath the folds of his cloak came a flash of bone as he produced some weapon.
At one instant, the blade trailed behind him, his right arm bent back—then, he was swinging in an upward arc.
Tenlen sprung off the wall, flying parallel to the ground. To her surprise, his trajectory didn’t slow but sped up. There was a moment’s resistance as his weapon contacted something. His orientation of gravity—one that affected only him—sent him through the enemy and falling toward the opposite wall.
She wanted to keep watching but was forced to turn away.
Up ahead, Veldt signaled some riders to fall back to help defend the rear of the carriage.
At the same time, however, she saw the wagon bounce, with the ropes in the back stretching dangerously. All their packs—including their rolled-up canvas tent, bedding, and cooking supplies—drooped closer to the ground, threatening to break loose at any moment.
Knowing this would pose a risk for the others, Kaycia spun her spear. She waited for Tenlen to reach the side of the path, and she struck the rope.
Her aim was sloppy—against strands moving every which way—but it did the trick.
At once, the bags fell free. Some broke open as they hit the ground, scattering utensils and pots across the road. The enormous canvas roll bounced, turned, then collided with an unseen force. One end bucked high into the air while the other skidded forward, pushed by the momentum of the invisible beast.
The other tumbling bags produced similar effects as the charging horde swerved and stumbled.
Amid the chaos, the creatures fell back—but didn’t stop completely. It was enough distance, however, to weaken the silence. Enough for a small but noticeable improvement in her hearing.
Taking advantage of this, Captain Veldt began to shout—as though his voice were passing through a long tunnel.
“The village entrance is narrow, walled off by these cliffs. So tight, two carriages can’t pass side by side. We’ll take advantage of that! And block that space!”
“What?!” shouted Kaycia. “With what time?”
“It’ll be enough,” said Veldt with a devious smile. “There’s an old watchtower above the entrance. With a single, well-placed munition, I’ll collapse the structure right into the gap.”
“And then?” asked Kaycia, shaking her head. “Even if that works—you’re talking about a rock pile! They’ll force their way through!”
“I never said it would stop them,” said Veldt, his voice growing fainter by the second. “Keep ahead of the blast, and we’ll—”
She didn’t hear the rest. It was enough, however, to convey his intent. They wouldn’t stop at the village but keep riding through the night.
Just like that, Marien’s careful planning had amounted to nothing. After coming all this way to visit this monastery, they’d have no more than a handful of seconds before rushing off again, deeper into the mountains.
At this point, however, Kaycia didn’t care. For the first time since the attack began, Veldt had presented a feasible solution. And though she didn’t relish the idea of pushing on through the night—bringing their horses and themselves to exhaustion—it was their only option. The only way both she and her sister might safely reach home.
Even Marien would have to agree. The lady might be foolhardy, but she wasn’t suicidal.
As Kaycia alternated her view between the road and craning her head back, she found Tenlen soaring above the ravine. His arc curved until he landed atop the cliff.
When he stopped near a large boulder protruding from the edge—over half as large as the carriage itself—the strangest thing occurred. The rock began to tremble, breaking loose from its position.
Then, both Tenlen and the rock fell toward the enemy.
While Kaycia knew this was possible—that Tenlen could extend his influence to the area surrounding him—she also knew it came at a significant cost. Draining his reserves at an exponential rate.
Tenlen curved his path upward, just before the boulder slammed into the ground.
Unexpectedly, sound returned—the thunderous boom too loud for her sensitized ears. Her mare staggered as the earth trembled. Loose dirt rained down on both sides.
There was more she could hear: shouts from the soldiers, the thundering echoes of hooves. An unearthly wail. It all mixed like a deafening flood.
“Are they dead?” a man yelled, unwilling to look back and check for himself.
When Kaycia turned, she could only see an immense cloud of dust filling the gorge.
But then...she saw shapes—outlines of figures where the dust was absent. There were spindly voids where limbs twisted and rose to their feet.
“Bloody heavens...” she said, without revealing what she’d seen.
The dust didn’t cling to the creatures as one might expect. Anything that didn’t penetrate their hides, including paints, powders, or tinctures, would slough off.
This left Kaycia barely a few seconds to count at least three shapes. But due to the fact she was riding a horse, and the billowing dust refused to stay still, there could’ve easily been twice that number.
“Keep moving!” she shouted—disheartened to hear her voice diminishing. The creatures were recovering too quickly.
“Are we almost there?” she asked while the captain could still hear.
“I don’t understand!” he responded. “We should’ve seen it by now!”
His change in tone was unnerving—casting aside his mask of confidence.
Kaycia, however, refused to give up.
Even if the forest was moving—it couldn’t have changed much, could it? The mountains were still here, right where they should be. This pass—this gorge—was still here. So, the tower must be, too. Perhaps not in the same place, but close, right?
Try as she might, she saw nothing up the mountain or hidden in the trees—nothing that resembled an artificial construct.
Up ahead, the ravine curved, and she couldn’t see what was causing the riders to slow.
Bloody heavens! she thought, knowing the last thing they needed was one more obstacle. It wasn’t until she’d rounded the corner that she realized the truth was much worse.
The problem was the tower, fallen to ruin.
With no other choice, she pulled her horse to a stop.
“Damn it!” she yelled.
Had the unattended structure collapsed by itself? Or had another group, perhaps, fled through here before and concocted a plan similar to Veldt’s?
Either way, there was more rubble than a single building could account for. The lumber was intermingled with great sections of earth and rock, broken from the cliff and adding to the barrier.
Due to the narrow space, wooden supports jutted twelve feet into the air, sharp and jagged. Moreover, the wreckage had spilled in both directions, creating a distance of over a hundred feet between their group and the opposite side.
“What now?!” she shouted.
Veldt didn’t seem to hear. He turned back the way they came—eyes wide and jaw rigid.
This time, the air thickened all at once, like an avalanche of silence crushing them in.
She brought her horse around and looked down a canyon that only appeared empty.
At the moment, even Tenlen seemed to have gone missing.
Clutching her spear, she struggled to keep her hands from shaking. Beads of sweat ran down her neck and back.
“Oh gods...” she breathed.
But, by then, she could not even hear herself.