His absence is like a deep wound that refuses to heal. I try to push away the memories, but they cling to me stubbornly like a second skin.
My captors didn't realize that I'd stolen a knife from Keksej. The one I'd struck him with was still carefully tucked into my waistband upon awaking. I'll count it as a sweet coincidence. As well as the lack of pain in my lower back and leg.
I feel light-headed. Whether it is from blood loss, healing, or grief, I don't know. All that matters right now is that I can keep walking. When I left behind Arlet, it was almost too easy to sneak back through hallways until I reached the tunnels leading out of the mountain.
The furs I wore were stolen from the room I'd been given by the Enduar King. After his cursed songs and crystals didn't succeed in seducing me to death, he tried to pacify me with crystals and clothes. With any luck, I will never see him again.
As I stand before the great doors leading out of the mountain, the flaw in my plan comes to life. The exit is made of that same goldish metal I see everywhere. When I push on a door, it doesn't budge. They are sealed with no visible handle.
"Gods-damnit," I curse. “Mamá, you left me alone inEl Paseo de Nubes.You owe me.”
Inspiration sparks. Just a modicum of luck—a small message like what I felt after she died. She was with me. The Enduares are ingenious, they would be able to hide something in plain sight. I continue feeling my way along the rough ridges of the door until my hand connects with something. I grab it. Nothing.
My breathing picks up. I'm dangerously close to hyperventilating. Every second here is a second I could be caught. But I refuse to give up, so I grasp the object tighter, pulling until my nails break, and I start to bleed all over again.
Something gives way slightly and the relief in my body is palpable. Half-mad with panic, I twist the object and hear a satisfying click. One side of the doors begins to slowly creak open. I can taste my freedom in the air all around me.
When I slip out, it's as if I'm leaving behind all my years of chains and shackles. I pause at the edge of the cave, wiping my hands on my clothes and looking back at the swirling red veins coming out of the stone.
Something feels wrong. I can't explain it fully, but there is a pit in my stomach that wasn't there before. I turn away from the tunnel.
The night is dark, the moon barely peaks out from the clouds and I see my breath in the air, but I have to try. I allow myself one hesitant moment longer before stepping out into the open air. No voice invades my thoughts and the song ceases.
Good, I tell myself, but my head hurts and my heart hollows out, as if I am hurting myself by putting space between me and these trolls. I block out the looming face of the Enduar King, and start to walk briskly. A sharp, fragmented pain tears through my sternum. I raise my hand to touch my chest—as if I could hold my cracking heart together.
This is not your home, so you shouldn't feel this loss in your chest. You, Estela, have no place to call your own.
The extreme cold alerts me to the fact that my feet are still tender, as is my back, but I've braved worse for Mikal before. I can finish healing when he is safely away from the giants.
I quicken my pace, the crunching of snow beneath my boots is the only sound in the vast emptiness around me.
My fingers and toes start to tingle, and my nose runs before freezing in trails over my upper lip. I hold the back of my fur to my mouth to help the pain.
I have barely made it down the small slope at the base of the mountain before I am so cold I can hardly move. I hadn't realized how much traveling in a group had kept me warm. There were fires and giants radiating sadistic warmth.
Something crunches behind me, and I whip around. My heart races as I stare into the darkness, trying to make out any shapes or movements. There is nothing to see, nothing to hear except for the sound of my own breathing. I chide myself for being so paranoid.
I keep walking—this time, more cautiously. I have the distinct impression that I am being watched. Has the king come for me? I shut my eyes against the thought, telling myself that all will be well.
Another crunch, and I whip around. A figure emerges from the darkness, its silhouette illuminated only slightly by the faint moonlight. My heart pounds in my chest with fear and anticipation.
“Who's there?” I call out, casting a puff of white into the air.
The figure doesn't answer right away, instead continuing to approach me.
Maldita sea.1No, no, no.
"Blood," it hisses in a broken version of the common tongue. "Sweet, human blood."
The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end as the figure gets closer, revealing itself. Though not quite as tall as a giant, nor Enduar, its form resembles a man. A jolt of electricity skitters down my spine when I meet its red eyes gleaming in the darkness, reflecting the scant moonlight, while silky dark hair falls over its ice-pale shoulders, and a strip of cloth hangs around its loins.
I take off with a speed I didn't know I possessed, my breath rising in quick gasps. The adrenaline pumping through my veins helps me ignore the growing pain in my feet. I glance behind me and see the creature, its long limbs fluid and graceful as it chases after me.
My mind races as I try to come up with a solution to fend off the creature. I know that I won't be able to outrun it for long, but I only have my small knife.
I scan the area frantically, searching for anything that could help me while the thing pounces. Its sharp claws tear through my flesh like paper. I scream in pain, shoving and kicking at the creature.
I grab at the knife on my waistband and plunge it deep into the creature's side. It howls in fury and pain but doesn't stop lapping at the blood pouring from my wounds. I wrench the knife out of its side and stab it again and again until I falter, weak.