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The raven’s caw is a loud screech, ripping the air around us and piercing my ears like a pick driving right into my head. Dugald takes a step away. He looks angry.
“That shouldn’t have happened.”
“You think?”
My head is spinning. What were those feelings? Where did this come from? What is wrong with me? Stress. That’s what it is. I’m losing it. As I try to sort through my thoughts, Dugald moves towards the trees.
“Quinn, don’t trust anyone.”
“Does that include you?”
“Yes,” he says, then steps past the tree and out of sight.
ChapterSeventeen
“Wait,”I yell, leaping up and running after him. “Son of a—”
He’s gone. I look around but there’s not a sign of him or the raven either. And once again, I’m alone. I look around, knowing there’s no point. It’s getting late and the trees are casting heavy shadows. As I walk through the grassy area between the trees the hairs on the back of my neck rise and that sensation of being watched comes on.
When I look around there’s no one that I can see. Strangely, I don’t even hear other students. The campus is sprawling, covering dozens of acres and uniquely designed with lots of green space between the Halls. It’s a selling point for recruiters but I’m really wishing it wasn’t right now.
Fear, I’ve learned, comes in degrees. It’s one word, but that one word encompasses a really big range before it graduates to the next English word. Terror. In this moment my fear is slightly more than a bad case of nerves. A little more than nervousness, it’s a sense that things aren’t right. That something is wrong. I don’t know what, not exactly, but the not knowing is the basis of the fear in the first place.
We don’t fear the known. The dark is only scary because you don’t know what’s hiding in it. There could be anything in there after all. Giving up on finding Dugald, I head for my dorm. I don’t have long before I’ll need to see my professor and find out if there is any makeup work I can do that will salvage my grade. I’m going to have to beg and grovel, but I’ll do what I must.
I formulate arguments in my head as I walk but that sensation of being watched and that something is wrong grows stronger until I can’t think about anything else. I stop and turn a circle, half-expecting to see someone following, but there’s no one behind me. I stare at the emptiness as if maybe I can will a bad guy into existence. Then I see it.
The shadows underneath the trees move in an odd way. They’re not reacting to the gentle wind rustling the branches, they’re moving towards me, not shifting and swaying in time with the motion of the trees. My throat is instantly dry and a scream catches.
I take a step backwards then realize they could be behind me too. Darting a glance over my shoulder, they are. They’re there too. All the shadows, under every one of these trees, look like they’re reaching. They’re not shadows; they are black, inky fingers impossibly stretching towards me.
“Stay back,” I say as I motion with my hand.
The shadows continue lengthening, moving closer. They’re all around. I turn a fast circle, looking for a way out. Nothing. I’m trapped. They move slow, creeping in an inch at a time, and as they do I feel their emptiness. It’s an unending hunger, always craving more. I don’t know more what, but I feel their need in my soul.
The gradient of fear climbs. Sweat soaks my shirt and my heart palpitates as I breathe faster and faster. I try to reach for power, but it’s elusive as ever. I reach and come up empty. The shadows are closing in faster behind me than in front. I move away from them, trying to keep all of them as far away as possible.
I step again and my foot comes down on the soft sand of a beach. The setting sun casts long golden red fingers across the water as the waves softly swoosh in and out. I whirl around and come face-to-face with the Druid.
“What was that?” I ask, my voice cracking.
He cackles and shuffles away. He looks out of place on a sandy beach that looks like someplace in the Caribbean, still dressed in his dirty rags. He doesn’t belong in this idyllic setting.
“Thank you.”
“What?”
“The words you’re looking for. Thank. You.”
“Thank you?” I stare at him with my mouth open, but I close it and ball my hands into fists.
“You’re welcome,” he says with a toothy smile.
“I told you I was done with this. I meant it. I’m done. I have to handle my life.” He shrugs. “What is wrong with you?”
“Wrong with me? They say you’re the One. They name you Destroyer. Yet what do you do? Nothing. You run away. You complain. No, I do not think you are the One.”
“Good!” I shout. “Now send me home and let... whatever the hell that was back there know it too. I didn’t ask for this and I can’t handle that and fix my life.”
