He looked over his shoulder, continuing to tug me further away from the stone silhouette of the Archives. “We need to hide.”
I tore my arm from his grasp and stopped walking, the damp grass soaking into the soles of my feet. “Where?”
His eyes darted behind me, his face pleading. “Come on, love, we cannot stand here and argue.”
I bit down on my bottom lip, taking a single step toward him. “Will I ever see my family again?”
Talon remained silent, and it was enough of an answer.
“No.” I shook my head. “I cannot go anywhere. I do not even know if Hera is alive. And I cannot have my family believing I have become a wandering soul.”
My eyes begun to sting at the thought of her lying dead on the floor of her bathroom. One subconscious act may have been enough to drain the life from her.
Talon stepped forward his hand resting against my cheek.
“She is alive,” he assured me.
“How do you know?” I croaked.
His thumb gently caught a stray tear, smearing it across my cheekbone. “Because it is my duty to keep an eye on all unbounds.”
I sniffled, looking up at him through the blur of my vision. “Someone is watching her?”
“Someone is watching her,” he confirmed. “We will send medicine over, but right now, we must move.”
“Okay,” I managed, my voice small. “Can we pass by my home on the way?”
Talon sighed, but before he could reject the idea, I quickly added, “It will be quick. I promise.”
His hand caressed my jaw, his thumb tracing the line of my skin. “Okay, but we must not linger. They will be expecting you to return home, so let us try and beat them there.”
I nodded and with a firm tug, he pulled me from the shelter of the ancient trees and back toward the edge of the Archive grounds.
We made our way through the silent, winding streets, the moonlight casting long, distorted shadows against the cobblestones. There was nothing but the whistle of the wind through the eaves and the frantic cadence of our footsteps to accompany us. I clutched Talon’s coat around my shoulders, a shiver racking my body.
As we turned the final corner toward the familiar silhouette of my home, the crisp, night air was suddenly choked by the acrid scent of burning pitch and wood smoke—a smell that did not belong to a quiet neighborhood at midnight.
Talon’s hand tightened around mine, his stride halting as he pulled me back into the shadows of a stone archway.
“What is it?”
He did not answer. He stepped in front of me, his broad shoulders creating a wall between my gaze and the street.
“Talon,” I hissed in a whisper, but he ignored me, his eyes remaining pinned ahead.
I leaned out just enough to glance past the curve of his arm, and my breath faltered.
Figures stood across the yard of my home in the silver and red armor of the High Court, their torches burning with a steady firelight. At their center stood a woman cloaked in sigil-stitched fabric, ancient symbols glowing faintly across her sleeves.
“A witch,” I whispered. “They said the line was extinguished.”
“They lie often,” Talon murmured.
Before either of us could move, the woman raised her hands. Green stardust burst outward like a cloud of poisoned light, seeping through the open windows of my home. It crawled across the ceilings and down the walls like a living thing.
Through the glass, I saw my mother stiffen and slump against the kitchen table. My father reached for her, his limbs jerking before he too collapsed.
Lyra and Theron ran for them, their bodies abruptly extending before they sank to the floor in a heap of unnatural stillness.