The night air feltdifferent. No sound came from the lodge, not even a stir from the horses. The quiet began to press in. Their footsteps crunched against the gravel as they moved toward the stables, each sound too loud in the heavy silence. Alaric needed to check with Reuben, though he was likely asleep in the carriage.
Stepping carefully, he unlatched the door, mindful not to startle the horses. But as it creaked open, he stopped cold.
Reuben was awake, sitting still and staring. His expression was blank, detached, as if his mind were elsewhere. His head tilted at an almost predatory angle as his dark eyes fixed on Alaric with an unsettling stillness. Then, he blinked. For a brief moment, his irises weren’t their usual color; they were black. Not the kind cast by shadows, but deep, unnatural darkness, like something sinister was staring back.
Reuben exhaled, rubbing his face as if shaking off a trance. His features settled back to normal.
“Mr. Stonebridge?” he asked, his voice groggy. “Is everything all right?”
Alaric unrolled the map, his gut tightening as the ink began to recede, drawing back toward the forest. He told himself he was fine, but he wasn’t sure he believed it.
“Yes.” He cleared his throat. “I just wanted to check in. Did you hear anything tonight? Anythingunusual?”
Reuben frowned, rubbing the back of his neck. “No, sir. Nothing. Did something happen?”
Alaric shifted his gaze to Evelyne, who still stood beside him, shivering; whether from the cold or something else, he couldn’t tell. At least the unnerving presence that had seeped into his room was gone now, but the thought of it still lingered.
“I want to leave at sunrise,” Alaric said steadily. “We eat first. Then we go.”
Evelyne stepped closer. “I don’t need to eat. If you feel we should leave now, let’s go.”
Alaric shook his head. “We need our energy. Especially since we still have no idea what we’re up against.”
By morning, the eerie quiet had lifted, replaced by the mundane clatter of bowls and spoons as they filled their stomachs with grainy oats and weak tea. The meal was nothing special, but it kept them moving. And then, with the first light of dawn stretching over the treetops, they were off into Mokkvyrn Forest.
Chapter 24
Evelyne drifted into a restless sleep once they were back on the road. Too shaken to relax after the night’s events, she’d spent the early hours pacing her room at the outpost. At one point, she had even practiced loading her father’s pistol, still tucked away in her carpet bag. It had been years since she’d last fired one, and though she had no plans to use it, she needed to remember how.
Her fingers had moved through the motions mechanically—checking the flint, wrapping lead bullets in cloth patches, wiping dust from the barrel—all while her thoughts spiraled. She thought of the sigil, of Cillian, of the taint of blood magic. Of Vaelora, and the realm of magical creatures that had lurked unseen for generations, veiled just beneath the surface of her reality. She’d been blind to it all. Now, she was chasing ghosts into the darkest forest on the continent.
She stirred, rubbing the sleep from her eyes as she rolled her shoulders, feeling the travel stiffness settle deep in her bones. Even in daylight, Mokkvyrn Forest was smothering. Its canopy of twisted branches wove so thickly overhead that only the faintest light slipped through, casting the forest floor into an unearthly, eternal dusk. Fog drifted through the tangled undergrowth, curling like spectral fingers around the trunks of ancient trees. She should have been afraid. But it was beautiful in a haunting, untamed sort of way.
When she sat up, Alaric’s stare was already on her.
Evelyne narrowed her eyes. “Is there something on my face, or do you just enjoy staring?”
Alaric immediately looked away, shifting awkwardly. “No… I—I’m sorry.”
Evelyne smirked, leaning back against the seat. “I’m joking, Alaric.”
His lips twitched into something like a smile, but neither pressed the moment further. They both knew the weight of the silence between them, the unsaid words, the rift unhealed. But now was not the time. There were far more significant things to worry about, like the inky darkness that had spread across Alaric’s map last night.
“Are you well rested?” Alaric asked cautiously, watching her stretch.
“As well as I can be, given the circumstances,” she muttered, stifling a yawn. “Though I’d much prefer a proper pillow next time. Or perhaps, I don’t know, a certain someone could let me sleep through the night without waking me before dawn?”
He rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m sorry for frightening you. I’m still trying to make sense of this map, and when I woke up, I… I felt something.”
“What did you feel?” she asked curiously.
“I don’t know. It was like… a chill, but it moved over me. Almost like a cold shadow brushing past. But it felt wrong.”
Her breath stilled. She knew that feeling. She had felt it the night Cillian disappeared. “Did you see anything?” she whispered.
“No. Just the ink spreading on the map. But something was there, Evelyne.” His voice fell quiet. “Something was watching us.”
A shiver ran down her spine, because she had felt it, too. But instead of letting the fear sink in, she reached into her luggage and pulled out a heavy tome.
