Page 64 of Crownless Heirs

The hag lunged across the table, her claws extended straight for Sorcha’s throat. But her knees buckled halfway across. The poison finally hit her like a sledgehammer. Her body collapsed forward, knocking bowls and iron cups into the air as she hit the dirt floor with a sickening, heavy thud.

For a long, agonizing moment, the only sound in the cabin was the sharp crackle of the hearth and Kyron’s ragged, hyperventilating breaths.

Sorcha shot out of her chair, her knees shaking. “Now! Move It!”

Kyron didn’t hesitate. Gritting his teeth until they nearly cracked, he grabbed the hilt of the dagger in his thigh and ripped it out in one violent motion. A spray of dark blood hit the floor. Maelan scrambled over the table, tearing through his pockets for the stolen herbs. He muttered a frantic, breathless incantation, crushing the dried leaves into a bloody paste between his palms before slamming them directly over Kyron’s open wound.

A faint, pale-green light sparked beneath his fingers. Slowly, the jagged, torn flesh began to knit itself back together. The blinding, throbbing pain remained, but the terrifying torrent of blood finally slowed to a halt.

“Can you walk?” Maelan gasped, hauling Kyron up by his arm.

“I can run,” Kyron wheezed, his face ghostly pale.

They didn’t waste another moment. They burst through the heavy wooden threshold of the cabin, plunging headfirst back into the suffocating bog. The air out here was thick and humid, heavy with the stench of rot and sulfur. Mud bubbled in sluggish, black patches around their boots, releasing pockets of noxious, stinging gas while the dead reeds swayed against the windless sky.

Above them, a chorus of hidden crows began to caw with a frantic, deafening alarm that echoed through the murky mist.

Suddenly, a massive black raven descended from the fog, landing on a rotting stump right in front of them. Its dark, intelligent eyes gleamed with a terrifying awareness. It tilted its head, assessing their bleeding, breathless forms for a split second before letting out a sharp, commanding cry. It took flight, its massive wings cutting through the heavy air as it guided them forward.

“Follow it!” Kyron shouted, limping heavily but forcing his legs into a sprint.

The raven stayed just a few feet ahead of them, banking sharply left and right through a dizzying maze of identical reeds and sinking mud. It called out continuously, its urgent, piercing cries the only thing keeping them on solid ground.

Then, a bloodcurdling, inhuman scream tore through the swamp behind them. It was a sound of pure, demonic fury.

The hag was awake. They ran faster, feet slipping in the muck, the bog closing in around them as if it were alive, twisting and turning as if they were trapped in a maze. The raven kept pace, its wings cutting through the thick mist, guiding them through the endless labyrinth. And then they broke through.

They stumbled out of the thicket, lungs burning, gasping as they tumbled into fresh air.

For the first time in what felt like forever, the bog was behind them.

As they emerged from the bog, they ran toward the cliff’s edge. Stopping too late, they collided into one another. Their feet failed to find solid ground as they tumbled downward, rolling and sliding, gravel and dirt scraping against them. They hit the ground hard and lay still, catching their breath.

29

Lost

Sorcha stared up at the sky, watching as the raven circled above them. The raven watched them a while before departing, leaving them alone in the vast unknown. It seemed they had stumbled into another part of the woods. This time, the forest stretched for miles, open paths and rivers weaving through rolling hills. There was no city in sight. As fate would have it, they were lost. Sorcha sat up, brushing off the grass and dirt that clung to her after their tumble.

Sorcha looked between them. “Any idea where we are?” she asked. The endless stretch of wilderness felt like a maze.

Maelan came up beside her and whispered, “Shall we burn the forest? Maybe then we’ll know where we are.”

Sorcha scoffed, nudging him with her elbow. Maelan’s hand caught her elbow and he held it, his fingers caressing her arm before letting go. Kyron was already scanning the treetops, searching for any sign, anything that looked familiar, that could give him a clue. He shook his head. “I have no idea where we are either. Nothing looks familiar.”

Perplexed, Kyron started climbing a tree.

“I’m going to see if I can spot anything from up here,” he muttered.

Maelan smirked. “I’m a cat. It’ll be quicker if I just go. Also your wounded”

Kyron sighed and stopped climbing. He had barely made it a few limbs up, his leg burning, before Maelan leaped past him.

By the time Kyron was on the ground, Maelan had already reached the top of the trees, surveying the area. Within a few agile leaps, he landed beside them with a grin.

“There’s a lake to the southwest that leads to a river. We can follow it and see if it takes us out of here.”

Sorcha met Kyron’s gaze. ‘It’s as good an idea as any,” she said with a shrug.