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“I wonder if Phantom and father are getting tired of all of this,” Dusk mutters, shaking his head as he kicks one of the grave troll’s hands.
It’s weird. They said the creatures could build themselves into grave trolls again if we don’t burn them, but I’m not sure the body parts here would be enough for that. Not that I want to find out.
Onyx signs something I can’t see very well in the dark. Luckily, Dusk’s words put them into context as he gives a snort-laugh. “Yeah, you’re probably right. It’s unlikely.”
We start up the fire, and within a short time, it’s burning brightly. Together, we drag over the bottom half of one of the trolls and then toss it onto the fire, followed by the legs and crotch of the next one, and finally the lone hand. The smell of wood and rotted bodies burning fills the air, and I gag.
Onyx laughs, and I hate to say it, but I love his laugh. It’s not quite a chuckle, but somewhere in between a belly laugh and a chortle. It makes it all the more special, somehow, that he can’t hear the sound himself. And also, a bit sad. One day I’ll have to tell him what a nice laugh he has. You know, when I’m not working so hard not to hurl.
“Just go find Ann,” Dusk finally says, and I realize he’s laughing at me too.
“Sorry, we didn’t,” I gag again, “burn trolls at the mansion.”
Dusk, the ass, actually laughs harder. “No, I’m sure there wasn’t troll burning time in between tea and dances.”
I toss some dirt at him.
He grins, standing far closer to the flames than I could ever manage. “Just go.”
“Fine, but you just remember that you’re a prince too!” It takes everything in me not to loudly gag again as I retreat from the flames.
“A prince of the shadow beasts, not the delicate fae,” he calls after me.
“I’m not delicate,” I grumble, which would have been perfect if I didn’t loudly gag again.
I glance back at them and Dusk signs something to Onyx, then they’re both laughing their asses off. I give them the finger before turning around to look for Ann, but I’m smiling. This must be what it’s like to have brothers, and although I love Esmeray, I’m kind of glad to have “brothers” now.
That thought fills my mind as I make it to the place that we’d left Ann. Only, she’s not there. I understand that sometimes she has to adjust her angle or move deeper if the rot monkeys get too close, so I walk further into the woods, wondering how far Ann has gone, how deep into the cover of the trees she’s ventured.
Maybe she felt the danger more acutely today. Maybe she wanted to get away from the sound of battle. Her light makes her sensitive to sound while she uses it. She’s sensitive to many things, and vulnerable, which I knew she hates. Still, my Ann is a trooper. She always has been.
But after a few minutes, I start to worry. Probably unnecessarily. Not because I’m stupid and think she’s safe out here, but because with her light she could vaporize anything that gets close to her. The concern for me is that I always thought she has to be close enough to see where she’s directing her light, but I’m two-hundred yards into the forest, and I still don’t see her.
Still. Don’t. See. Her.
The last thing I want to do is call out and alert any lingering enemies that she’s alone and vulnerable, but my stomach clenches. This isn’t like Ann. I hope she’s just sitting and tired. Maybe somewhere I missed. But something feels off.
Wrong.
I’m ten yards farther when I see them–the moon shards we’d collected earlier. She’d had them in the pouch she carries on her belt. She always keeps them there because she’s the only one who can carry them without being affected. There’s no way she would have left these on the ground. Not by choice, at least.
My heart races.
A flash of light catches my eye. Past the moon shards, a few feet farther away, her dagger sticks out of the ground near the stump of a fallen tree. I know it’s her dagger because it’s one I gave her from my personal stash. It’s got an ivory handle and a blade that’s sharp on both sides with a point on the end that could pierce a hole in a man without much force behind it. It’s shiny and silver and she sharpens it every morning because she doesn’t want to be caught off-guard. And somehow, someone caught her anyway.
Fuck.
There’s no way Ann would have just dropped this all here. Panic builds inside of me, and I want to deny what I know because it’s too painful.
But I can’t.
Someonetook Ann, and it isn’t a big stretch to figure out who. My gut aches, and nausea builds as my heart twists. This is… worse than anything I imagined. We kept Ann far away from the Void. We handled the Shadow King’s minions. Ann should have been safe.
I kneel down and gather the moon shards, then I collapse onto my knees and slowly pick up her dagger. Ann is…gone. Now, I can feel it deep inside. It’s like part of my soul is missing. I try to picture her in that dark world with Phantom, how he is now, and the Shadow King, but the idea makes me sick.
If I thought the smell of the grave trolls would make me vomit, I was wrong. Finding my Ann gone though… bile rises in the back of my throat.
I won’t rest until we have her back with us. Where she belongs.
