“I know Vaelora has Cillian,” she said, flipping through the pages until she reached the marked passage. “We suspected it, but now I know for certain.”
Alaric’s eyes flicked over the text.
“This one,” she said, pressing her finger to the dark illustration identical to the mark near her family’s estate. “This sigil was carved into the rock the night Cillian was taken. My father believed it was a warning, and he was right. But it’s more than that; it’s a claim. According to the book, it was created through blood magic.”
Alaric’s shoulders stiffened. “And she’s the only witch ever to wield such magic.”
Evelyne closed the book, nodding. “At least we’re headed in the right direction.”
But Alaric’s face had gone pale as he glanced at the page again. “Evelyne… did you read the full passage?”
She knew what he was implying. She knew exactly what the message said. “I did. But I’m getting him back, Alaric.” There was nothing more to argue.
***
Night had barely fallen when her hunger announced itself with such volume that even Reuben looked over in surprise.
“I’ll find something,” Alaric muttered, already grabbing his bow. “Rabbit, maybe. I won’t risk gunfire out here.”
She nodded, pulling the map into her lap while Alaric disappeared into the trees. The fire Reuben had started crackled against the oppressive quiet of the forest. Evelyne took the opportunity to change into something simpler for the evening.
Her fingers curled around the map’s edges, checking it every few moments and watching for any sign of the black ink returning. Thankfully, the darkness stayed away.
For now.
When Alaric finally returned, a fresh kill in hand, she refused to watch him skin it. He made quick work of it over the fire, and though the meal was simple, just rabbit and dried berries, it was enough.
“Never thought I’d see the day where Lady Duskwood eats rabbit in the middle of the woods,” Alaric teased, spearing a piece of meat with his knife.
Evelyne smirked. She sat on a tree stump, cloak cinched close and boots smeared with mud. “Yes, well, this isn’t exactly how I pictured my life as a lady either.”
Alaric chuckled and shrugged. “Fair enough. You’re handling the bugs better than I thought you would.”
Her eyes narrowed. “What bugs?”
He lifted his chin toward her boot.
She followed his gaze and spotted the brown spider crawling up her leg.
She squealed, launching off the stump, swatting at her foot. Alaric burst into laughter, and even Reuben, who had been silent most of the day, let out a faint snort.
“I’m going inside the carriage,” Evelyne huffed, clutching her food as she stormed off.
Alaric’s laughter followed her the entire way.
She ate in silence, absently chewing as the steady chirping of crickets filled the night beyond the carriage walls. The fire outside crackled softly, casting faint, flickering shadows along the edges of her vision.
Would her father send men after her soon?Not yet,she thought. Perhaps in a week, maybe longer. That gave her time to find Cillian before anyone tried to drag her back home.
Her fingers tightened around the tin plate in her lap. Was Cillian okay? Was he afraid? Was he even alive?
Stop it.She clenched her jaw, forcing the thought away. Of course he was alive. He had to be.
A gust of wind rustled the trees outside as she let out a slow breath, trying to ease the anxious weight in her chest. Almost absently, she unfolded Alaric’s map, and her stomach dropped.
Black tendrils spread across the parchment, inching steadily toward their glowing location. The map seemed to throb with a sinister energy, and the shadows began to accelerate. Her heartbeat thundered in her ears—and then the forest went silent.
No more crickets. No rustling leaves. Only the fire remained, its crackle suddenly too loud.
