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Marcellus’ sword flashed, severing the vine. It slithered from her leg and collapsed to the ground.
“I’m sorry, I—” She gritted her teeth through the pain. “I should have blocked everything off.”
“Don’t apologize,” he snapped. “I am your guard. I might not always agree with your plans, but it is my job to protect you. So use me.” He sliced another vine as it shot towards her.
A lump pressed against her throat. He was only here to take down her sister. She knew that. But, he was still here with her regardless. As long as he was, maybe, just maybe, she could rely on him.
“Marcellus,” Thicket said.
His eyes met hers.
“I’m trusting you to protect me.”
He huffed a laugh, the corner of his mouth quirking upward just the slightest. “It’s about time.”
Marcellus raised his sword as Thicket let the barrier of fire fall. He was but a blur of steel, slicing through each and every one of the vines, not letting a single one of them touch her, allowing her to turn her attention to the impending wall.
She staggered, the pain from her leg threatening to take control of her senses. She blocked it out, honing her focus. She willed her magic to slip back into the wall. Instead of just holding it, her magic spread, acting as a net to capture her sister’s magic and override with her own.
The sensation was like no other. She could feel the wall as clearly as her own fingers. Not only that, she could sense what was around her. Phantom echoes of panicked screams. The heavy slamming of footfalls.
The vines had made it into the town. They were attacking her people. Not on her watch. Thicket forced the vines to submit. To shrink away and burrow back into the earth.
The voices were louder now, blurring together as someone barked commands to the crowd. Thicket couldn’t make out the individual words, but she sensed their meaning. Orders to evacuate.
The distorted sensations faded as black crept around the edges of her mind. Her body was heavy, but her head was oh, so light.
Just a little more….
Thicket dove deep into the dregs of her magic, wrestling up enough to cry out, “Zyporyr!”
The wall cleaved in two, creating an opening large enough for everyone to escape.
“Go!” The word tore from her throat. She didn’t know if they could hear her, but she hoped somehow they understood. She tried to sense whether they did, but her connection to the wall was waning. Her entire body shook. She knew she was standing upright, but her sense of balance was off kilter, as though she were floating through an endless sea. Her magic was almost gone, slipping through her fingertips and fading into nothingness.
She opened her eyes to see Marcellus. His clothes were shredded, the frayed edges clinging to his skin and coated in something dark and thick. Blood. It poured from deep gashes across his body yet he didn’t slow.
The wall started to move again. There was nowhere for either of them to escape.
Marcellus kept fighting, his jaw set so tight it was close to cracking. Thicket knew he would keep fighting until the wall claimed them both.
She flung out her last dregs of magic, forcing the wall to still again, refusing to let it move an inch.
Save them. She needed… to save them… And… Marcellus…
But Thicket couldn’t hold off the blackness anymore.
The last thing she remembered was throwing her hand out and murmuring, “Zyporyr…” before darkness claimed her.
Chapter Sixteen
Twigs cracked beneath Thicket’s feet as she tread through a forest devoured by a thick fog. It wafted through the trees, robbing them of their color so all that was left was the distorted shape of their shadows. The atmosphere was eerily silent. Animals didn’t scuttle across the ground. Trees didn’t groan. Everything was still.
Dangerously still.
Thicket hurried through the gloom, hugging her arms close to her body. She passed row after row of never-ending trees. They all looked identical—and none of them bore any hope of an escape.
Discarded on the edge of the path, a black clump caught her eye. Thicket approached, eyes straining through the fog. It sort of looked like leaves all bunched together in a misshapen pile. She leaned over the mass, face drawing closer.
