And now she needed to use it.
Think, Wren. Think.If she was going to figure out a way to remove the cuff and escape the encampment, then she neededto try to uncover high-level security information. She needed to go to the place where she knew Edith and the other generals kept their belongings.
Onyx Unit.
It was a risk. But it also might be her only chance to investigate.Three days.That was all she and August had left to try to find a way out. Which meant if Wren was going to do something stupid…she had to do it now.
Don’t think.
Just move.
Wren sucked in a sharp breath and strode forward. Luckily, it was late enough that most Demiens had retired for the evening, though a few stragglers lingered, chatting by the crackling glow of a bonfire. Wren kept her head bowed and gaze lowered, careful not to make eye contact with anyone around her.
It didn’t take long for her to make her way out of Silver Unit and into the heart of the cavern. She thought back on earlier that morning, when Quinn and Arthur had given her the tour of the cavern.
The western tunnel is for Onyx.
Wren pivoted to the right, careful to keep her steps light and hurried. But something caught her attention as she approached the entrance to the western tunnel…a hooded black cloak dangling from a post. She reached out her hand, quickly grabbing the cloak and tossing it over her shoulders, tightening the hood around her head. It wasn’t the best disguise, but she hoped it would be enough.
She entered the western tunnel, placing the lock of hair inside a pocket in the cloak. As she slowly slid her hand out of the pocket, her knuckles brushed something sharp and cold.A knife.Not exactly the most useful weapon against Demiens, but at least it was something.
With that tiny shred of hope, Wren made her way into Onyx Unit.
It was quiet. Eerily so. Unlike Silver Unit, which was usually bustling with activity and laughter, a dense silence pierced the air of Onyx Unit. No light emanated from any of the dozens of tents, though that didn’t surprise her, given how late it was. But there was also a strange pressure in the air. A tension thick enough to drown in. Wren winced as loose earth crunched beneath her boots. Every tiny sound seemed to echo. As if even the soft rattle of her breath might be enough to raise an alarm.
Wren was considering abandoning her plan when a faint noise echoed in the distance.
Her head snapped up. She squinted, attempting to peer through the opaque darkness.
And that was when she saw it. Up ahead, looming near the center of the cavern, was another tent. It was larger than any of the others she had seen—almost like a domed circus tent, though the fabric itself was a midnight black that appeared to shimmer with starlight. She approached the tent cautiously, careful to keep her steps light. Just beyond the entrance, she could hear the deep rumble of voices.
“…understand your strategy, High General, but isn’t it best we resume the sessions as soon as possible?” a muffled voice asked. “The catalyst must be awoken. We are running out of time. We’ve gotten word that the Resistance has uncovered something…concerning. Something that could put them at an advantage.”
A resistance?Wren’s heart surged. Maybe therewashope after all.
“Their silly tactics are of no concern to me.”Edith.The HighGeneral’s smooth voice echoed with authority. “Tell me, Commander, do you not trust in the Soulless One’s plan? Do you doubt his timing?”
“Of—of course not!” the other voice sputtered defensively. “I…I simply wonder…if it would behoove us to—”
“It would behooveyouto remember your place,” Edith cut in, silencing them. “The Soulless One will call upon the girl when she is ready. And I will resume the sessions when I sense that it is necessary.”
“Has there been no change?” Another person spoke up. “Nothing at all?”
“Not from what I gather,” Edith replied with a sigh. “She remains…stagnant. The vision is still concealed.”
The vision?Was that what Edith was trying to get Wren to see by forcing her back into the past? Was that what they were waiting for? Wren had stepped closer, desperate to learn more, when a heaviness settled upon the nape of her neck.
A presence.
I’m not alone.
Before Wren could react, a hand was grabbing her by the waist, pulling her backward, another hand clamped tightly over her mouth. She tried to scream, but the sound was muffled in her throat, and then she was being thrown into another tent, swallowed by darkness.
She prepared her body for a fight, but as soon as she stumbled into the tent, her attacker dropped their hands. Using the freedom to her advantage, Wren unsheathed the knife from her cloak and spun on her heels, thrusting the pointed edge of the blade toward her attacker. But before the tip of the knife could make contact with flesh, a hand was wrapped around her wrist, stopping her.
August.
A confusing mix of fear and relief erupted inside Wren.
