Page 22 of What Beats Within the Tunnels

I’m quick about it, eager to get the day started. I braid my hair into one large braid and wash up quickly, popping my head out to see Colton still poking at the fruit like it’s going to bite him.

“Hey, you said something about clothes?” I ask, getting his attention. He hands me a folded stack, and I duck back into the bathroom.

Glad to be clean and out of the heavy red gown I was wearing, I look through the small stack of interesting clothes this Lycan lady left. I wonder where they came from while sliding into a pair of black hosen, the supple leather hugging my legs and promising easy movement. I don a bright-blue tunic next, its vibrant fabric embracing my form. Over this, I secure a black leather bodice, cinching my waist and enhancing my appearance to seem more composed and formidable than I feel.

I step back into the bed chamber, ready to go find my father. A wicked smile spreads across Colton’s face as he looks me over. “Who’s looking all dark enchantress-like now?”

“Not another word,” I scold him. He laughs, and I pull the covers back off the bed. Chepi stretches, rolling onto his back. Colton and I both lean in to give him belly rubs at the same time, and all we accomplish is smacking our foreheads together.

“Gods, are you ready to go?” I huff, rubbing my forehead and giving him my best impression of an evil eye.

“After you, my little shadowmancer.” I’m pretty sure I’m never going to get away from the nicknames, so I just ignore him, giving Chepi some love and heading to the door. Chepi hops down and trails after me. Once into the hall, I glance around to get my bearing and realize I have no idea how we got to this room.

“Alright, squish, go find father,” I tell Chepi, and he takes off down the hall. Colton and I have to keep a brisk pace to keep up with him. He doesn’t take us back to the main sitting room we were in yesterday, and instead we end up on the other side of the palace, I think. It’s slightly more rundown looking, and I find myself slowing my steps as the corridors go from warm and grand to dark and decrepit.

Chepi stops in front of a closed wooden door, rot setting into a few of the boards, and the handle appears rusty. Colton gives me a look, and I lift my hand to knock on the door, but a voice stops me.

“You have to tell her everything or she’s never going to go along with it,” Athalda says. Her voice is low and muffled through the door, but I know it’s her.

“I’ll tell her everything she needs to know. There’s still plenty of time,” my father says.

“Lyra, you’re awake. I hope the coffee and fruit were to your liking,” a woman’s voice calls from a few feet away, much louder than necessary for us to hear. This must be the Lycan lady Colton was referring to earlier.

“Yes, thank you. And you are?” She has soft features and those piercing blue Lycan eyes. She fiddles with her long brown hair, twirling it in her fingers as she walks toward us. She looks far too young to be in Zomea, and I wonder how she died, how she fought her way here, and how the hell she ended up here working for my father.

“Forgive me, my name is Anika. I help your father out around this place when I can. I’m pleased to see the clothing fits.”

I glance down at myself. “Er, yes, it does. Thanks.”

The door opens, and my father is standing there, dressed as impeccably as yesterday. I turn back to look at Anika, but she’s gone. Instead I see Colton furrow his brows at me. My father steps out of the room, closing the door and forcing us to back up into the hallway. I try to peer around him to see if the voice I heard was Athalda’s, but I can’t see anything.

“Athalda will meet us later.” I snap my eyes back to him. So she is here. He nods, seeming to know what I’m thinking.

“Come, I want to show you around.” He proceeds to walk back the way we came, and we follow him, but not before Colton and I exchange another look. I can’t read his face, but he must be feeling uneasy about what happened…because I am. Anika clearly was alerting them that we were eavesdropping, but why, and why didn’t Athalda come out?

We stop outside the sitting room in the grand hall. “Are you ready to see what Zomea has to offer?” My father holds out both hands for us to take. Colton reaches over, clasping my hand, and instead of taking my father’s I bend down and pick up Chepi. I let Colton pull me in close and wrap an arm around my waist. He nods to Euric, who then clasps him on the shoulder. An icy fog kicks up around us as we channel.

The instant my feet touch the ground, the surrounding fog and chill dissipate. I’m standing at the edge of what once was the burning forest, now transformed into a desolate, smoky wasteland. Trees that once towered high stand charred and skeletal against the gray sky, their blackened branches reaching out in a silent accusation. Every verdant trace that once hinted at life has now turned to ash, settling over the land like a grim blanket of gray snow. The world before me is drained of color, dominated by shades of black, white, and the deepest gray.

A heavy silence hangs over this devastated landscape, devoid of any sign of life or the usual chatter of forest inhabitants. The lack of sound is unnatural, eerie, broken only by the occasional mournful sigh of the wind. As I inhale, the air tastes of char and smoke, yet beneath that there’s the ghost of a scent, a faint echo of the vibrant forest that once was — wildflowers and fresh sap. It’s faint and fleeting, yet it clings stubbornly to the barren air.

I feel the absence of magic deep in my bones, an uncomfortable void where once there was a vibrant thrum of life. “The burning forest,” I murmur under my breath to myself. The words taste bitter.

“You’ve seen it,” my father says, his voice solemn.

“I have. But I have a feeling you already knew that.” I pause, turning to look at him. “The trees aren’t bleeding anymore.”

“No,” he confirms, inhaling slowly. “I’m afraid this section of the forest is past that stage.”

“What happened here?” Colton asks, his voice barely more than a whisper. I realize he still has his arm wrapped securely around my lower back. We’re both struck speechless in the worst way, staring out at the ruins.

This place feels haunted, like a graveyard of nature where every scorched trunk and desolate patch of ground echoes the torment of what used to be. I’m standing in the remnants of beauty, now twisted and corrupted into a stark picture of devastation.

“Zomea is sick because I have the stolen blood of a Gholioth in me,” I say, recounting my conversation with Nyx and Athalda.

“Well, that isn’t exactly true,” my father replies, exhaling a long, weary breath.

My eyes lock onto him, aghast. “What do you mean it’s not exactly true?” I ask in confusion. He shifts his gaze to meet mine.