He’d have to save Wren—on his own terms.
Edith stood up. Blanketed by the dimness of the cavern at night, her shadows seemed to melt into their surroundings. As if Edith weremadeof shadows. And perhaps she was. Perhaps that was all that was left of his sister.
Edith turned to face August. Something passed over her expression. A fraction of regret…a faint echo of sadness. Or maybeAugust was simply seeing things. Clinging to the version of his sister that had died long ago.
“We were bred from darkness, dear brother.” Edith’s lip twitched and the shadow crown floating above her head darkened. When she spoke next, her eyes bored into August’s, branding him. “And to darkness…youwillreturn.”
25
WREN
They were running out of time.
Night had fallen over the encampment, shrouding Silver Unit in a delicate hush, but as Wren readied herself for bed, all she could seem to think about was her conversation with Quinn and Arthur. The way they had looked at her. The shame etched upon their faces. The regret burning in their eyes.
She hadn’t imagined it.
There was still hope left for Quinn and Arthur. Remnants of their humanity clawing their way to the surface. She was sure of it. And if she could reach them, if she could find a way to pull them to the light…then maybe they would help her.
Maybethatwas Wren’s way out of here.
But time was dwindling. Wren’s window was closing—fast. Equinox was approaching, the festivities commencing the following evening. Which meant if she was going to try to do something about it…she had to act now.
Wren sprang out of bed. She slipped on her boots, fashioning her hair into a simple braid, and fished out the lock of hair she’d hidden beneath her pillow. But as she took a single step toward the tent’s entrance…something appeared in front of her.
Someone.
Edith Hughes materialized at the front of the tent from oneblink to the next. Wren didn’t even have time to brace herself. She staggered to a halt, nearly colliding with the other girl, though she managed to stop herself before she could go barreling into her.
But this wasn’t the Edith that Wren had come to know since arriving at the encampment.
This…this was something else.
This was the version of Edith that Wren had seen in the Ether all those weeks ago. Her teeth were jagged and sharp. Eyes painted black by shadows. Slithering black veins rose from her neck, swallowing her jaw, crawling to her temples.
Edith cocked her head, watching Wren with a sickening grin.
“Hello, Wren.” She snapped her fingers and Wren’s entire body went rigid, her muscles once again frozen by Edith’s curse. “I think it’s best we resume our sessions now, don’t you?”
Wren Loughty succumbed to the darkness and
fell
back
into
time…
She walked among a forest of the dead. The trees, their bark gray and withered, loomed menacingly around her. They seemed to whisper to her, beckoning her forward in their ancient tongue. Beneath her bare feet stretched a path made entirely of charred leaves and sharpened bones. She left a trail of bloody footprints inher wake, a path of crimson gleaming against the ivory floor, and yet…she felt no pain.
She felt wonderfully, blissfully nothing.
A perfect circular glade had been carved into the forest. Within the clearing, standing among a graveyard of ruins, was a single statue. A face chiseled from white stone and a pair of sapphires embedded in its eye sockets.
Afternoon light flickered through the naked branches surrounding the glade, illuminating dust particles floating aimlessly in the air. Perched upon one of the trees sat a black-eyed raven. It watched Wren, head tilted, as she ventured deeper into the clearing, approaching the stone statue that sat untarnished among the ruins.
A voice called out to her.
