His mind felt…fractured. It had been unraveling since he had been dragged to the Resistance’s manor, butthisfeeling was different. The disorienting presence he’d been experiencing since the Forgetting had first sunk its claws into his mind had seemingly doubled in size since he had set foot outside the manor’s walls. There was a heaviness pressing upon his skull. A dullness in hismemories that terrified him to his core. He didn’t even bother attempting to recollect a memory from his past—from his old life. It would only solidify what he already knew.
Your time is running out.
He shivered as the thought bounced around in his head. Was it his own voice? Or the voice of a ghost clinging to his consciousness, beckoning him into oblivion? It was impossible to tell anymore.
Olivier refocused his attention on the woods. There was no obvious path, so they weaved between trees, the crudely drawn map their only guide. Olivier’s fingers brushed against damp earth and gnarled branches, little tufts of moss clinging to brittle bark. He noticed that the leaves had morphed from a dark green to a morose palette of deep burgundy and charred black. Above them, what sky he could see through the canopy of interconnected trees burned a strange umber, a swirling vortex of smoke-gray clouds moving with the wind.
A few steps ahead, Emilio walked beside Masika, that terrifying little creature snuggled in his arms. Dina and Catherine trudged along at the head of the group, their eyes locked forward, a silent determination in their movements. Analisa, of course, had decided to plant herself right beside Olivier, her eyes drifting over to him every few seconds.
Ugh.
Can’t she just let me rot and wither away in peace?
Analisa snorted, biting back a smile. Olivier narrowed his gaze in confusion.
“What’s so funny?”
Her eyes widened as a sudden flush burned behind her cheeks. “Nothing,” she muttered, rubbing away her smile with the back of her hand.
Olivier stared at her. And stared at her. And—
He gasped as the realization dawned on him.
“Oh my God!” he shriek-whispered, grabbing her firmly by the arm and tugging her in closer. “Were you just…inmy mind?”
“No,” Analisa replied, though she shrugged and added, “I mean…nottechnically. I was just…feeling around. And for the record—no. I’m not going to simply let you rot and wither away, despite your death wish.”
“Analisa!” Olivier hissed, lowering his voice. His eyes darted to Emilio, but the other boy was too preoccupied with scratching the puppy in his arms to notice the conversation happening a few yards behind him. “You cannot just poke and prod in my mind without asking. We’re not even in a healing session—”
“It’s getting worse,” she muttered abruptly. Her expression grew solemn. “Changing. I’ve felt it ever since we left the base. Something about purgatory’s atmosphere…” Her voice trailed off as she took in Olivier’s growing alarm. “You feel it too…don’tyou?”
Olivier swallowed. “How long?”
Analisa nervously rubbed her wrist. “It wouldn’t be an accurate guess—”
Olivier cut her off, voice grave. “How. Long.”
Analisa fussed with the golden bangle on her arm. “Without the manor’s protection and our daily healing sessions?” She sucked in a breath, gnawing on the inside of her cheek. “A week. Maybe less.”
Olivier’s heart sank in his chest.
He tried to muster up something useful to say. Something meaningful. But all he could manage to utter in reply was a pathetic and defeated“Shit.”
Analisa reached out and squeezed his arm.
“I could be wrong,” she offered, though they both knew she wasn’t. “It could be longer.”
“Right.” Olivier snorted. “Or it could be less.”
A weighted silence fell between them. Analisa’s eyes traveled to Emilio. He was chatting with Masika, the puppy in his arms happily staring between the two of them as he dangled his head back in Emilio’s embrace.
“You should tell him,” Analisa muttered softly.
Panic surged through Olivier’s chest. He dragged his eyes away from Emilio. “And give him something else to worry about?” He shook his head. “No, thanks.”
“Right.” Analisa let out a dry chuckle. “Because lying to him about your imminent doom issuperhealthy. I’m sure that purposeful miscommunication won’t causeanyproblems whatsoever.”
“Okay, cut the sarcasm.” Olivier lifted a hand between them. “It’s weird.”
