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By the time I got past the lake, the fire had grown in intensity and size, spreading itself out, a blanket of flame thrown over the trees. The roar of it was loud, but the crackling, explosive sound the oak trees made as they fell was deafening. The way they combusted when they hit the ground, it sounded like they had been struck by lightning.
And when those ancient oaks fell, the earth trembled beneath my feet.
“Ezra!” I screamed her name over and over again. I was desperate to find her.
Another tree fell, landing just to the left of me, nearly bringing me down with it. Scrambling, I darted forward, towards the cottage, out of the reach of the flames chewing on the vacant branches of a red dogwood bush.
A widow-maker pine hung on another tree, then it came thundering down. I leapt backwards, narrowly missing it as it fell. It blocked my path. My hand shot forward, a blast of water emitting from my palm. The flames that ravaged that tree hissed in agony as I put them out. Steam and smoke weighed the air down, thick and heavy, riddling my lungs. I coughed and covered my mouth with the crook of my arm, my eyes burning as I peered over top.
I pressed on, but I wasn’t so sure I knew where I was going anymore. The markings I had etched into the trees when I was a child to guide me back to the cottage were gone, and although I had outgrown them years ago, I no longer recognized the forest anymore.
When I was certain I was lost, that the inferno had swallowed me whole and I was now stuck inside this never-ending maze made of flame, when hope was about to give out, that was when I saw it—the cottage.
And by the grace of the gods, it was completely untouched.
I raced towards it, lungs working on borrowed time. My sleeve caught on a tree, pulling me back. I turned, eyes going wide—it was not a tree.
The raven was large, its feathers oddly light—just like the sickly one I saw the night we buried my brother. It looked healthy now, its massive wings flapping as it stayed suspended in the air, its beak tugging on my sleeve like it was trying to pull me back—away from the cottage.
I fought with it, surprised by its strength.
A scream—Ezra’s scream—slammed into me.
Adrenaline coursed through my veins. I gave a final tug, and my sleeve sprung free. Twirling, my feet nearly tangled up in one another, I moved as fast as my legs would carry me.
The bird tailed me, dipping in front of me, trying to cut me off.
I threw a water ball at it, aiming just below it—not enough to hit it but enough to scare it off. It worked, granting me enough time to get ahead. Heart pounding, lungs hissing, I slipped my hand around the doorknob, not bothering to care if it scalded my fingers to the bone. But it wasn’t hot. It was cool to the touch—an anomaly I had no time to think about. I swung the door open, my eyes darting around, falling, stumbling, when I saw Ezra standing there—a blade held to her throat.
My heart missed its beat.
“Soren?” I asked the boy I once thought of as a brother—the boy who now stood behind Ezra, his hand holding the dagger.
Ezra’s eyes were even more vacant than usual. She stood there, her face impossibly blank, like she was a lifeless husk, her spirit gone. Something was very, very wrong.
“I am so sorry, Sage,” Soren replied, his eyes wide, filled with horror. His hand shook, making me even more nervous.
I raised my hands slowly, gesturing defensively, as if I were no threat. “It’s okay, Soren. Just please put the knife down and we can talk.”
“They didn’t give me a choice,” Soren said, his voice raised, tears gathering in the corners of his eyes.
“Whodidn’t give you a choice?” I asked, trying to make him feel like he was being heard all the while stumbling to form a plan.
“The king’s men!” Soren screamed, his hand shaking. The blade bit into Ezra’s throat, drawing a droplet of blood to the surface. Her expression never changed, worrying me even more.
“Please, Sor, please, don’t hurt her,” I pleaded, my legs wobbling beneath me, and I was suddenly uncertain if they could bear my weight. I needed to keep him busy, to buy more time. “Tell me what happened.” My voice was steeped in false warmth.
“I awoke in a cold, damp cell, the back of my head aching, an arrow embedded in my chest. I learned from the prisoner next to me that I was in Clearwell Castle. They didn’t give me much for food or water—made me sit in my own filth, like I was a lowly, dying animal. I suppose to them, that’s what I was. Then the guards came in and dragged me out. They took me to a room buried in the back of the dungeon—to a place that echoed with screams, the kind you never forget. There, they . . . they—” he stuttered. He held up his left hand, revealing the gruesome, leftover nubs, cauterized on the ends. Only two fingers were left. “They cut them off, Sage. They said they had two questions they needed answered—two questions and the pain would stop. They wanted to know who the Cursed girl was who freed the conscripted soldiers and where to find her.” Soren paused briefly. “At first, I didn’t tell them. Not for the first two fingers, but when they got to the middle one, when that blade bit in . . .” Soren turned ashen, the blood chased out of his skin. I wondered if he might pass out—prayed, he would—but a strange, disbelieving giggle slipped out of him instead. “I told them everything they wanted to know. I didn’t have a choice. If I didn’t agree, I would have died—whether that was directly because of them or the infected arrow wound in my chest.” He shook his head, his voice a whisper, twined with a shaky breath. “I just . . . I don’t want to end up like my parents.”
“It’s okay. I understand,” I lied, my tone honey sweet. I didn’t understand—I would have let them take every digit before I gave up my family and friends.
“You weren’t there. You don’t know what it was like,” Soren seethed, defending himself.
I stiffened, remembering he had access to my thoughts. “We have time,” I started, treading carefully. “The forest is on fire. They will have trouble navigating it right now. We can escape. You, me, and Ezra—we’ll go to the Cursed Lands. Together. There is still time,” I exclaimed, taking a daring step forward, testing his limits, as well as mine.
“No, there is no time.” Soren performed a somber shake of his head. He didn’t connect his gaze with mine, instead just staring, his eyes downcast to the floor. “They are waiting for you outside.”
“No one is outside,” I countered. “The forest is on fire.”
