The Umbral was a place of ancient blood and secrets I was not sure I wanted to know. I had no place among the Veythar, yet as I looked into his relentless eyes, the bond surged—a terrifying, beautiful current that told me I was already too far gone to turn back.
26
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Talon’s hands were steady as he packed our meager belongings. Leather creaked softly beneath his fingers as he piled in a few daggers and some rope.
I sat cross-legged near the cavern wall and watched the muscles shift across his back, the black ink sliding over skin like something half-alive, half-watching.
As if he felt my gaze, he glanced over his shoulder and a crooked smirk tugged at his mouth.
I scoffed and looked away, heat crawling up my neck. When he turned back to me with the satchel in hand I snatched it and stood.
“Are you ready?”
“I am.”
I was not, but the waterfall was thundering outside, only amplifying the fear that sat in my chest at the thought of staying here.
We stepped through the vibrating curtain of the waterfall, the icy weight of the spray slamming into me with a brutal soaking that stole the air from my lungs and left me gasping against the piercing chill.
When we emerged on the other side, the world felt stripped bare of its former beauty, appearing gray and sharp-edged and utterly hostile under the weight of the encroaching storm.
Clouds bruised the horizon in shades of violet and charcoal, swallowing the sun whole. The air smelled of wet pine and iron, and oddly, it calmed me. It reminded me of the mornings I would spend foraging in foggy woods similar to these.
Talon moved ahead without a shadow of hesitation, his dark form cutting through the mist with an efficiency that made my own limbs feel clumsy as my boots slipped repeatedly on the wet stone.
Every step we took away from our sanctuary felt like a descent into a world that was actively sharpening its teeth for me.
As we waded into the thickets, the air turned heavy and stagnant, thick with the scent of wet stone and the rot-sweet odor of something decaying just out of sight.
My steps slowed without a conscious command from my mind, my skin tightening with alarm as the ground beneath us shifted in a way that moss and earth should never move.
The soft greenery was gone, replaced by a dense mat of violet, vine-like tendrils that glistened with an oily, unnatural sheen that made my stomach churn. Their slow, almost imperceptible movement reminded me of a predator breathing just beneath the surface of a dark pool, and a cold awareness crept up my spine as the bond tightened within my chest, recognizing a threat before my eyes could truly comprehend it.
The forest had gone unnaturally quiet, stripped of the sounds of birds or insects until even the distant roar of the waterfall was dulled to a low, muffled throb.
Talon slowed instantly, his entire frame tensing.
“Stay close,” he warned.
The words had barely left his mouth when the ground screamed.
A vine lashed upward with the terrifying speed of a cobra, coiling around my ankle with a force so brutal it yanked me off balance and slammed me into the cold mud.
Before I could draw the breath required to scream, a thinner and barbed tendril spiraled around my wrist, its surface pulsing against my skin with a glow that synced perfectly to my panicked heartbeat.
I clawed at the rough surface, panic crashing through me in waves as the vine tightened further, biting into my skin until white-hot fire raced up my arm.
“Talon!” I gasped. “What are these?”
“Lurkers,” Talon growled, his voice a snarl. He was already fighting, his boots anchored into the earth as vines corded themselves around his massive thighs like pythons. “The High Court’s hounds.”
The forest floor writhed in a chaotic frenzy around us as dozens of thicker tendrils shot upward, slamming against Talon’s chest and arms until they had coiled relentlessly around his torso. He roared and tore one free with a sickening sound like splitting sinew. A foul-smelling, dark liquid sprayed across us as the vine snapped, a substance that mirrored the oily blood of the vines the witch had set upon me in the front yard of my family home mere days ago.
I thrashed against my restraints, my fingers clawing uselessly at the slick surface of the vines, but every tug only seemed to feed their hunger.
They were cowards, dark magic sent by men too afraid to draw their own swords or look their prey in the eye.