Landyn turned to her, his gaze moving over her delicate features—the arch of her eyebrows, her large eyes, the bow of her lips.
“We stay together. We’re not splitting up,” she said firmly.
He felt a deep sadness knowing what she had gone through losing her sisters, and he wanted to do everything he could to keep her from going through that pain again. But it simply wasn’t possible—she couldn’t be with them every moment of every day.
“We stay together,” she repeated resolutely.
He reluctantly nodded, even though he knew it wouldn’t be possible.
She lifted her chin and spurred her horse after Sage.
The sun rose too early, in Raven’s opinion, and she sighed deeply. She ran a hand over her grumbling midsection, shooting a glance at Willow, who usually complained the loudest when meals were scant.
Willow looked uncharacteristically silent as she rode beside Christian.
“Our supplies are running low,” Landyn told the group.
They slowly descended the winding road cutting through the gently sloping hill. Raven scanned the horizon for any hint of human life but only saw an infinite sea of rolling green hills and valleys.
“We can’t stop now,” Sage insisted. “Not with the Sterlings trailing us. We have to get to the end first.”
“We don’t even know why these directions are so important or what is at the end,” Landyn replied.
Sage glared at Landyn. “Everyone’s after it. It must be something important.”
“Or they think it is,” Landyn said.
“We can’t starve,” Willow insisted, holding her stomach.
“We can’t stop,” Sage said persistently.
They turned to Raven.
She was taken aback, her lips forming a perfectly roundOas her sisters voiced their contrary desires, each of which was sensible. She looked away momentarily, her mind flicking through all the possible implications of either decision. Finally, she declared, “We’ll continue with Sage’s directions for now.”
Sage nodded, her lips curling in a satisfied smirk.
Willow raised her eyebrows, her gaze flickering towards Christian with concern.
At the sight of Willow’s concern, something inside Raven twisted like a wet rag. She was suddenly overwhelmed by the possibility that she had made the wrong choice. Her stomach sank, and she wondered if her father had ever experienced this indecision.
The crisp, distinct notes of bells pierced the air, their melodic tinkling drifting through the hills.
Raven pulled on the reins, her gaze searching for the source of the sound.
“This way,” Landyn said, spurring his horse into a canter. He dug his heels in, and the horse responded with a burst of speed.
“Wait!” Raven shouted, but it was too late.
“You said we were following the directions,” Sage protested, watching everyone else speed by on their horses.
Raven yanked the reins, and her mare lurched forward into a gallop, chasing after Landyn.
As they rode across the valley, a sprawling cathedral emerged in the distance. Its spires reached up toward the sky like fingers stretching toward the heavens. As they approached, Raven noticed one of the spires had crumbled, and chunks of stone lay scattered along the ground. The grand church stood alone in the center of the valley, surrounded by nothing but nature.
Landyn drew back on the reins as he approached the church, then swung his leg over the saddle and dropped to the ground. He tried to make eye contact with Raven, but she stared straight ahead, her mouth set in a tight line, disapproval radiating from her like waves of heat.
“It will only take a moment,” Landyn explained.
