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I turn to the nearest heap of bones, resuming my search. I hope I find nothing. Or else I’ll have to be the one to tell Caya her brother is dead. To snuff out her last bit of hope.
I find nothing in the first pile of remains, even when I muster enough courage to sift through the bones with my fingers. I straighten and turn to the other heaps. Though there’s no trace of Juron in this pile, it doesn’t mean I’ll find nothing among the others.
I start over to one lying a few strides away, though I doubt I’ll find anything among it. The bones here are old, their ivory white surface dirtied and yellowed with time. I suspect they’ve lain here for several decades.
Metal glints to my left. I hurry toward it, crouching before the metallic object.
A sword. Its hilt has a familiar gilded pattern.
My throat dries at the sight.
This belongs to Juron.
My fingers close around the sword’s hilt. I stare down at the blade, the brilliant rays of my illumination orb gleaming across its surface. Behind, the sounds of the others fighting the wisps continue.
I grip the hilt. Juron was here. Why else would his sword be in this cave?
My gaze trails across to the most recent pile of bones. My stomach knots as my eyes fall upon the human skulls.
Is one of them his? Have we arrived too late?
“Reyna?” Caya calls. She must have noticed me peering at something. Urgency fills her voice, raising it by several pitches.
I can’t bear to look at her expression, let alone tell her that her brother is dead.
I simply remain there, clutching the sword’s hilt as I search for the right words. None come to me.
Soon the fighting quietens. With the wisps defeated, hurried footsteps approach.
“What is it?” Taria asks, halting beside me.
I turn slowly and hold out the sword.
Caya takes one look at it and lets out an anguished cry. She doubles over, clutching her chest.
Taria closes her eyes, placing a hand on Caya’s shoulder. I don’t miss the tear tracing her cheek.
“No,” Caya gasps. “This can’t be right. My brother . . . He can’t be . . .”
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, looking away from her. Guilt snakes around my chest, constricting so tightly I fear my heart will stop beating. I know Caya’s pain all too well. The agony of losing those held dearest.
It was my choice to cut through the Ghost Woods. If I hadn’t insisted on us taking this perilous path, Juron wouldn’t be dead.
Silence stretches between us, filled only by Caya’s ragged breaths. Taria gently tugs Juron’s sword from my hands. She clutches the hilt, her golden eyes squeezing shut and tears flowing down her cheeks. I lower my head, shame weighing heavily on my shoulders.
Out of cowardice, I turn away and start out of the cave. Natharius and Zephyr trail behind me. The demon says nothing as we walk.
Cool air slams into my cheeks, jolting me awake. Since the wisps cast their bewitchment over me, I haven’t felt this aware of my surroundings. Their magic must have now completely lifted from me.
I let out a deep breath. Zephyr flutters down and rests on my shoulder. I tilt back my head and peer up at the canopy of gnarled branches hanging overhead and shutting out the sky. The tiniest rays of sunlight slice through the branches, and they’re all which prevents darkness from entirely consuming these woods.
I suppose it must be morning again.
Even after standing here at the cave’s mouth for a long while, Natharius remains silent. Though I can’t say the demon is usually chatty, I’m surprised he hasn’t uttered a single snide remark about Juron’s death, but I’m glad he’s kept such hateful thoughts to himself, for once.
“Do you know where we are?” I ask, desperately seeking a distraction from my guilt.
Natharius gazes at the trees ahead of us. “Somewhere deep inside the Ghost Woods?” he offers, a smirk etching onto his lips. It disappears as soon as I cast him a stern look. I’m in no mood for playing these games with him.
