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The only thing on my mind is survival.
Tears blind me as I bolt, and I can only hope I’m leaving the nightmares behind.
five
Find Strength in Fear
Alessia
Bare branches reach for me like bony claws as slivers of moonlight glitter off the forest frost. The unforgiving weather eats me alive as I struggle barefoot, with only my threadbare dress on, against the elements.
As the adrenaline wears off, the pain sinks in, slowing me down.
I need to find shelter soon, or else Char’s death will be for nothing.
Do not linger in the forest on either side—especially if it calls to you. I wonder if this is what she meant. The call to quit. The ease of giving up. The forest is certainly calling to me in that sense, but it’s Char’s voice that keeps me going.
A sob escapes my throat and I stumble. My hands catch a thin, gnarled tree trunk and I steady myself, pushing the suffocating images aside.
Somewhere behind me, shouts carry on the wind.
I need to move forward.
Must get to the Gleam.
It can’t be that far or else Char wouldn’t have encouraged me to run for it. And it’s only a matter of time before someone catches up to me. I might have the advantage of a head start, but Lady Nilda will have the advantage of horses, warmth, and stamina.
I try to keep up my pace, knowing my trail through the snow can be tracked. Strands of hair whip across my face, knotting together as my teeth chatter uncontrollably. There’s nowhere to hide where I won’t be found. I half-run, half-wobble until my legs grow stiff and my chest burns.
Until I can no longer smell the fresh pine of the forest, and each breath turns razor-sharp in my throat.
I’ve never felt so alive yet so close to death at the same time.
My head pounds with Char’s words on repeat: I am not your family.
She was my family. She died for me, that’s how much she loved me—believed in me. She had her secrets, but she loved me fiercely.
We both knew it. She even apologized for it with her last breaths.
She died so I would keep going.
I need to.
Keep going.
But it’s so hard.
I’m so tired.
Right when I’m about to collapse from fatigue, a glimmer of light snags my attention. At first glance, it’s a faint iridescent mix of blues and greens. The closer I get, the brighter the colors glow, like a translucent, shimmering wall. A thick swell of mushrooms stands near the colors. Vibrant, standing calf-high, the fungi contrasts with the low saturation of the woods.
They’re unlike any mushrooms I’ve seen before.
I made it.
My breath hitches and my joints creak in refusal as I try to pick up my pace one last time. There’s no portal. No door. Nothing magical about the border other than the vibrant hues the Gleam clearly gets its name from.
On the other side, through the shimmering wall, there’s nothing out of the ordinary. It’s the same expanse of Lyson forest, stretching as far as the eye can see.
