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But that didn’t change the fact that she was always the girl who let them down in the end.
Her breaths hitched as hot tears burned along the rim of her eyes. She tried to hold them back, forcing her feet to keep moving and put space between her and the awful silence wrapping around her—suffocating her.
Grass ground beneath her boots. The first guard’s head snapped upward, alert. “Did you hear that?” he asked.
The guard beside him put a hand on the strap hanging beneath his uniform—the one that likely tethered him to his Aneuma.
Thicket held her breath, not daring to move as they scoured the clearing. Thicket’s heart hammered so hard she feared they might be able to hear it. One of the guard’s eyes latched onto the exact spot Thicket stood, frozen. He frowned and took a step towards her.
Thicket didn’t wait for him to find her. She took off, sprinting as fast as she could, not bothering trying to conceal her footsteps anymore.
“Hey!” the guard shouted after her. She wasn’t even sure her invisibility held but it didn’t matter anymore. She kept running and didn’t look back.
The corset of Thicket’s dress pressed against her ribs, making her deep, gasping breaths shallow. But she didn’t dare stop until she was well past the tree line of the Spindlewood Forest. Branches snapped beneath her boots as she ground to a stop, fingers reaching around her back and prying at the strings laced along her spine. She ripped the strings open. Air flooded into her lungs and she slumped against a nearby tree, body relaxing with the influx of air.
Once her breathing returned to normal, she glanced up. Sunlight glittered through the wavering leaves. She savored the view, grateful to finally glimpse the sky after spending so long beneath the domed roof of the wall.
What would Bilya look like under the full view of the sun? Would the grass be as rich and green as the moss beneath her feet? Would the soil breathe new life once it had the opportunity to soak up rain? Would her people finally be able to look up at the sky and smile, their hearts finally untainted by fear?
If all went according to plan, maybe—just maybe—she would live to see what a reality like that might look like.
She pushed off the tree and let her gaze rake across the forest. It hadn’t changed since her last visit when Caspian sent her to reunite with an Aneuma.
When humans died, they held the Pyre. Animals, however, didn’t have such means of regulating magical energy. If left unchecked, the rampant energy could cause natural disasters. Hurricanes. Tornados. Earthquakes. So, humans partnered with the beavers, who had the ability to connect them with the spirits of animals who had passed. There were several locations across the Continent where the beavers appointed to distribute totems lived. They called them Sculptors, for they would engrave the shapes of a chosen animal onto a piece of wood, a pendant that acted as a tether, connecting the animal with their human counterpart and strengthening their magic.
Aneuma were not chosen at random, but by which best suited an individual’s character. Once a totem was destroyed, the Aneuma fully passed from the world, magic and all. Thicket traced the deep grooves disturbing the carving of her kiwi. There had to be a loophole. Some way that could reunite them. She held onto this belief with the same ferocity as when she had battled Bayo. There had to be a way to get her kiwi back because if there wasn’t, she didn’t know what she would do with herself.
Thicket kept one ear pricked for the tell-tale murmur of water, which would guide her to the Sculptor’s dam. She also kept a close eye on the forest itself in case she was ambushed by her sister’s army once again. However, this time she found the river quickly and before she knew it, the intricate balance of sticks came into view.
The dam.
Thicket’s skin prickled with unease as she glanced around the open riverbank.
It felt too easy, like there should have been something that went wrong. Some trick or deception or even hint of danger. But there was nothing except the steady course of water and swish of wind as it zipped through the trees.
Maybe there was nothing. Maybe she was just too used to things going wrong.
She gave the clearing one last glance before shedding her dress and shoes, kicking them onto the stones lining the riverbank and waded into the water. Her bare feet slid on the slick stones as she felt around for the hole she knew would take her to the heart of the dam.
Taking in a deep breath, she dove. The early afternoon sun hadn’t fully warmed from the crisp night. Her skin burned as cold wrapped around her but she pushed on, following the stream of light she knew marked the dam’s entrance.
With a gasp, she broke through the surface and pushed her curls from her face. She took a second to wring out her hair before continuing into the large dome that made up the Sculptor’s dam.
She found the Sculptor off to the side, organizing stacks of wood against the thatched wall.
Thicket’s lips pinched tightly as she worked up the courage to speak. “Hello,” she said finally. Though the word had been barely louder than a whisper, it caught on the hollowness of the dam, bounding off the walls and projecting loud enough to make Thicket wince.
The Sculptor turned, its beady black eyes fixing on hers, steel teeth glinting in the low light. “Your Highness. Back so soon?”
Thicket wrung her hands as she approached. “I… have a favor to ask.”
The Sculptor’s head listed curiously.
She swallowed. “You see, I was fighting a wolf and… it cut my neck.” She gathered her damp hair, revealing the thick scar trailing down from the right side of her neck all the way to her shoulder. “And… my totem.” She unclasped it with trembling fingers, holding it out for the Sculptor to see.
Its nose twitched as it inspected the claw marks etched into the wood. It didn’t speak for a long moment—a moment which Thicket’s churning mind used to ramble off her theories.
“The scratch is deep enough that I think it interfered with our connection. I thought perhaps there was a way to repair the engraving, or transfer it to a new pendant…”
