Page 135 of Veiled

My heart slams against my ribs.

“Two.”

The decoys tilt their heads in perfect unison: unnatural, puppet-like, and predatory.

“Go!”

We explode forward, the decoys meeting us halfway.

I don’t have time to track anyone else’s fight as my blade clashes against a curved short-sword, and sparks of light burst between us. The impact reverberates up my arm, rattling my bones.

Fast as lightning, the decoy pivots and its blade slices through my leather jacket. Pain flares bright along my forearm, a burning line as intense as any real combat strike.

“Fuck!” I hiss, but I don’t let myself look at the damage just yet. I need this illusion gone for good.

I attack, taking two quick jabs as my boots slide in the mud. The decoy doesn’t bleed when my blade connects, but it jerks back as if it felt as much as I had.

“They’re mimicking Clowessian basic strike patterns! Watch for the feint on the left!” Reyna calls.

“Got it!” We all answer back.

The boy cries out, “Help! Please!”

We best the soldiers in a domino effect and watch them dissolve into mist. Rhyan wins his fight when he knocks it to the ground and slices its throat, I connect my blade with where its femoral artery would be, and Reyna just gets lucky when her opponent falls into the marsh and doesn’t come back up.

We don’t waste a single breath. We sprint straight to free the boy. We’re only ten feet away when a barrage of enchanted voices hits us.

“Help!”

“Please…don’t leave me!”

Mateo flinches with every new voice, but he keeps moving, pushing toward the crying boy clutching the tree root.

Then one voice cuts through the rest—

“I’m here, Rhyan, please…my legs!”

“Mom?” he calls out, voice cracking. Another breath, sharper and breaking. “Mom! Where are you?!”

Reyna drops to a crouch, hands clamping over her ears as if she can press the projections out of her skull.

And me?

I hear one voice.

One small, trembling voice that doesn’t echo, doesn’t distort.

“…please help me. I’m trapped and so hungry. Please ... help…”

I stumble, and the marsh tilts under me.

Mateo reaches the boy first, hands shaking as he pulls the flare stone from his belt. “I’ve got you, I’ve got you. Ignore the voices…ignore them…”

He crushes the stone, causing the marsh to dissolve and the trees to vanish. As the voices come to a sudden halt, the other teams' clapping and whistling fill the air.

But my stomach is twisting itself into knots, cold and sharp and sour.

Because that voice…the one whispering that it was trapped and hungry…