A deep ache rocks my bones—that's the first sign that I'm not dead. Bright, white light blurs the edge or my vision, beckoning me from the darkness. My heart thumps in my chest as it rises and falls, breath escaping in short sharp gasps.

Wake up.

The voice in my head is not my own. It's deep and impatient. My eyelids weigh down, no matter how much I will them to open. Slowly, my hearing returns—gone are the growls and screams, replaced by the gentle rustling of trees, and the distant creaking of insects.

My head thumps.

Open your eyes.

The voice is so demanding my body obeys.

Four sets of eyes glow in the dark forest, standing over where I lie amongst the pine needles and dirt. My heart skips a beat, body jolting into motion as I scramble backwards across the ground until my back hits the trunk of a tree.

The world spins as I dig my nails into the bark, my breath picking up. The last thing I remember is lying beneath the shifter that now stands across from me, claws in my wrist, blood dripping from its teeth.

They didn't kill me.

The thought thrills me and terrifies me all at once. I saw the look in its eye, the murderous rage after I threw the junk from Myers. It was going to end my life right there in that street like they do to anyone else who gets in their way.

But it didn't.

Paralysis takes a hold of me, no matter my mind screaming at me to move, to bolt, to escape, even though the logic side of my brain knows there would be no use.

Get up.

I jump, swinging my head around, trying to locate where the voice came from. But there's only me in the clearing, me and four shifters shielded from the sky by the canopy of leaves.

Now.

It lets out an impatient growl, swiping its clawed hand against the ground. My stomach clenches in fear. There's so much about them that we don't know, so much mystery around their species I never could've expected that they could speak to my mind. How far does the ability stretch? Can they read my mind too? My heart skips a beat.

Up.

My legs move on their own accord, trembling as I push to my feet. Even at my full height, the shifters rival me in size, their presence taking all the energy in the surrounding area. The forest holds its breath as the shifter takes a calculated step closer.

Walk, it demands.

I hesitate, heart pumping as I glance over its shoulder. I have no idea where we are. We're not on any path, and I don't recognise our surroundings. I can't see through the darkness to tell how close we've gotten to the mountains, but there's a chill in the air as the temperature drops. All I know is that wherever we are, it isn't Veymaw.

I've never gone further than the forge before.

The shifter growls. I start to move forward, wrapping my arms around my body and wishing I had some sort of weapon, but even the metal I threw at the shifter is no longer in my pocket. The shifters prowl behind me, so silently that if it weren't for the occasional growl, I wouldn't know they're there—a threatening presence looming over my head, keeping me from turning around.

Thoughts of Cadence flood in. What will she think when they wake up and I'm not there? I force myself to think of Casimir as I walk. Of Samu. Of Killian.

Alarm bells ring in my head at the thought and I desperately reach into my pocket, stomach settling when I feel the nanium, squashed somewhat between my fingers. I discreetly drop one, holding my breath.

The shifters don't notice.

We continue our trek forward, and despite the hasty pace, I find myself trembling in my thin blouse and skirt, the white front littered with splatters of mud and paw marks. The shifters linger in my peripheral vision, a constant reminder that I'm being watched.

I think of Samu, so young, trekking through the cold, dark forest, shifters lingering over his shoulder and growling at any signs of veering off course. A flash of anger races through me and I pick up the pace, dropping another nanium berry.

We walk for longer than an hour when the trees start to thin out, letting the red moon splice through the foliage above. It paints the low bush a violent red, the white shifter at the front the picture of pure terror. We come to a halt. I look forward, narrowing my eyes as they adjust to what lies before us—we've hit a cliff-face, towering so high in the sky I can't tell where it ends.

The sight makes my stomach drop.

I've only ever seen the Elel mountains from a distance, rising like jagged spikes from the ground. From a distance, they were always beautiful tops dusted with snow that gleamed against the backdrop of a navy sky. Casimir and I spent countless hours watching the mountain tips carve each sunset. They were a distant beauty, the home of the shifters, a place I'd never dare enter in all my lifetime.

I never wondered what lurked within their beautiful yet unforgiving tips; never considered the drop in the air temperature. But now that it lies ahead of me, it almost doesn't feel real. I clench my jaw, gnawing on the inside of my cheek as my body trembles.

One of the shifters stalks towards me. I stumble away from it, not stopping till my back presses into the tree. Its eyes flash violently, and it raises its top lip, revealing razor sharp teeth. Before I can react, it lurches forward, sharp claws extended as they tear through the bottom fabric of my skirt. Bitterly icy air assaults my exposed knees as I clench them together, heart hammering as it drops the ragged, dirtied material at my feet.

Cover your eyes.

I jolt at the voice in my head again. With shaky hands, I pick up the ragged material and tie it across my eyes, securing a knot at the back of my head.

Walk.

I stumble forward. The shifters around me make hissing sounds, as if in mocking as I fumble through the forest. Eventually, one of them brushes up against me, nudging me to the side. I try not to flinch. My hands brush the cliff-face, the earth crumbling against my fingers. I scale the wall as the shifter guides me with a less than gentle shove in the centre of my back. The cliff-face gives way, earth shifting beneath me from dirt to gravel. And as I move forward, I don't need my vision to know that we've entered the caves.

The walls mute the sounds of the forest, leaving only a distant howl of the wind and my laboured breath as I move forward into unknown territory.

Trina mentioned the caves more than once, carved in the earth by the shifters years ago when they were at war with Torrine. She had a map laid out for them but only an inch of it was clearly marked. But my fingers press into the walls and I feel each corner before I turn, I imagine the drawing in my mind—picturing the way these caves weave through the mountains, a labyrinth of turns I feel but can't envision.

Trina's voice echoes through my mind, summoning a shudder that rakes through my entire body.

No deserter who has entered has ever found a way out.

The deathly silence unsettles me. I can't hear the shifters moving, but I know they're there, and with the absence of the wind, crickets, bird calls, rustling of trees—there's only my stumbled steps and sharp breath filling the air.

I hold my breath as I reach into my pocket, squishing the nanium between my fingers, and then drawing them out, reaching sideways to brush the wall. For the first time, I'm glad to be blind-folded, as searching for the wall as a guide is a completely natural reaction. The tips of my fingers brush it and I press my fingerprints there, holding my breath as if the shifters will notice.

But nobody makes a sound.

I keep walking forward, following the curves of the wall and changing directions when a shifter harshly shoves me the other direction, trying not to stumble. There's a distant rumbling, but I tune it to the back of my mind and focus on leaving marks against the passageway.

Getting out of here depends on it.

Getting Casimir and the deserters in.

Getting Samu out.

I can't fail.

#

The hours drag on, ticking past one another like mere passing seconds.

Ice travels through my veins. I'm so cold I can barely feel my limbs; my fingers and toes have no feeling at all. Even the shivering, which persisted for hours, has stopped. And despite the situation, my heartbeat has slowed to a murmur.

The further we walked the more my other senses tuned in. I hear the stones crunching beneath my feet, the heavy breaths of the shifters surrounding me—in front and behind. I feel the distant rumbling of the mountain we walk beneath.

We don't stop for water, food, or rest.

I think of the mountains and their rugged beauty to distract myself from thoughts of what I'll face at the end of the tunnels. We're only now heading into autumn, but even in the heat of summer, snow dusted the mountain peaks.

The aches in my body have dulled, a painful numbness taking over. But I don't dare complain as we continue through the cavern. My mind swims with anxiety. I can't see where my hands are being placed, whether I've left adequate marks on the walls. We've been walking for hours, taking various turns. I tried to keep track of them in my mind, but it was impossible. All I can think of are Casimir and Killian navigating the path, my marks misleading them and trapping them down here forever. Dying down here.

I shudder. I'm almost glad I can't see our surroundings, feel the panic of the walls so close to my body, closing in, trapping us beneath the mountains. It feels like decades have passed when I'm finally halted with a harsh nudge that knocks me into the side of the cave.

Deathly still, I dig my nails into my palms. I don't dare speak, paralysed with fear and complete ignorance to my surroundings.

A voice fills the silence.

"Who's this?" they spit. I don't hear the response, only the bated pause as the owner of the voice receives it in his mind like I did back in the forest. "Are you sure?" There's a long pause.

My heart hammers but I don't dare move. The footsteps halt in front of me before the blindfold is ripped carelessly from my face, taking some of my hair with it. I wince, squinting as my eyes adjust. We're still in the caves, but in a wide opening, and the earth has transitioned to stone.

A man stares directly at me, our eyes lines level. A scar pinches the left side of his face into a scowl. "What's your name?" he demands. I open my mouth to respond but nothing comes out. The man grabs the neckline of my dress, tightening it around my neck. "Your name."

"Freya," I gasp. "Freya Raune."

He doesn't loosen his grip; his expression doesn't change. But he raises his other hand and presses it to a spot where my neck and shoulder meet. And as black dots my vision, it's his voice that is the last to fade out.

"For the sake of your life, you better be telling the truth."

~

1. What're your theories about why the shifters think Freya and her brother are important?

2. What do you think will happen next?

3. If you could travel anywhere in the world, where would you go?