Page 89 of The Reaping Rose

“Your freckles.” Callum’s eyebrows pinch. “They’re not glowing.”

I press my fingers to my cheek, and Perame circles to see what he’s talking about.

“This is good; you look human.” She smiles.

I’m not sure good is the word I’d use to describe it as this weight settles inside me. But I force a smile, knowing that with my round ears, it will help me blend in.

“My hair?” I ask.

Perame steps close, lifting my braid to get a peek of what’s hidden. “Still blue.”

Somehow that’s a relief. I’m not entirely changed, and I cling to that as we enter this place that feels so far from home.

The forest around us is a graveyard of dead trees and twisting branches. Fallen leaves carpet the ground. There is no wind. The hush is eerily unsettling as I gaze into the night.

Atop one of the trees is a raven watching us with such intensity that it’s as if I can feel it assessing.

“Do you think that’s a sign? You mentioned a raven in your vision.”

Perame follows my gaze. “Maybe. It’s not nothing.”

The Arch behind us flickers, and I glance back as a smoky swirl rolls in waves between the posts. It looks like it did on the other side. Something sparks against one of the posts, and as quickly as the Arch came to life in Andare, it dies in a single breath, becoming nothing more than a gap between one part of this dying forest and another.

“We got through just in time,” Perame says, her voice duller than a moment ago. “I guess it’s good we’re both here to open it again when we need to leave.”

“Let’s keep it that way.” Callum releases my hand, stepping forward. “Where do we go from here?”

Perame looks around, her eyes squinting as if she’s remembering the vision that led us to this realm. She pauses on a particular tree in the distance. The twisted bark has a giant knot on its face, and another raven sits on a branch.

“That way.” She points and starts walking.

The Mortal Realm is as vast as any other, with the Arches to Vaelier and Lyrichia on opposite ends. Thankfully, Perame swore she recognized the village where the void is hiding, which means we have some chance of getting there.

Leaves crunch beneath our feet. There’s no keeping quiet, and every bird seems to be watching us.

The Mortal Realm feels nothing like I expected. Magic stirs, but it’s dull. Starlight barely sparks when I try to summon it, but it’s there. There is no wind. No whisper of life in the forest. There’s an emptiness to the land.

I thought it might feel like home, but nothing here calls to me. If anything, something pushes me away. An invisible force that I physically resist as I walk toward it.

I glance at Callum, whose eyebrows pinch as if he feels the same.

“It has to be the void,” I whisper.

The only other magic mine has resisted in such a visceral way was Hazel’s. And although Idunn said the void and shadows are not one and the same, there are similarities. They’re both dark. Endless. They bite more than they drink, which makes every step more difficult.

At a distance, a pulse beats stronger than a heart. But we don’t slow; we continue toward it. Until voices freeze us in our tracks and torchlight comes into view.

Humans.

Chapter 30

Greer

Sunrise in Solace never fails to amaze me. Growing up beneath the rolling lightning storms in Echme, I’m used to the gray clouds. The static in the air. The hum of magic pulsing with each strike.

As Atlas and I reach the peak of a sandy hill and sunrise bathes the sky in orange and pink, I can hardly breathe. It’s godslike. Quiet. There’s a stillness here that even the heat doesn’t ruin. A new day breaks in the distance.

I close my eyes and focus on the wind tickling my skin. The warmth of morning cresting the horizon. My braids are unbound, so my dark curls tickle the sides of my face as a rogue strand tosses in the breeze.