Shadow Crown

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Shadow Crown Page 11

by Kristen Martin


  And then he jumps.

  ARDEN ELIRI

  I ALMOST DROP to my knees as I follow Estelle through the entrance to a hidden cave. We’re so far into the forest that I’ve lost any sense of direction I once had—north, west, east, south—I haven’t a clue. The only thing I do know is that what we’ve just walked into is absolutely magnificent. Breathtaking. Surreal.

  At first, the cave is absent of almost all light, dim and dark. A deep blackness surrounds us to where I can’t even see my own two hands in front of me. Estelle doesn’t bother to light a lantern or conjure any other light source for that matter; it makes me wonder if her violet eyes inherently carry some sort of night vision. My trust wavers, but I follow her further into the darkness, almost tripping over my own two feet.

  Further and further into the darkness we go. My breathing is labored, although I can’t tell if it’s from physical exertion or from fear. Maybe it’s both. I tell myself that there’s nothing to be afraid of, that Estelle promised I would be safe—but the deeper we climb, the more I doubt her word. I’m almost certain I’m hallucinating when we reach what appears to be the end of the cave.

  But it’s only the beginning.

  I shield my eyes as a bright white light floods my vision. It’s enough to make my head pound and my eyes burn, so I keep them shut until it feels safe to open them again. That time feels like it will never come, but, eventually, it does. I slowly lift my eyelids and allow the light to seep in. When my eyes finally focus, my heart just about leaps out of my chest.

  Deep within this cave we’ve wandered into is another world. Trees of all different shapes and sizes shoot up from the ground, their branches entwining and interconnecting to form pathways that lead to various structures built into them—a sort of tree village. Streams of fresh water run in winding paths at the bottoms of trees, and plants of magnificent colors—magenta, ruby, and lilac—dot the surface. The entrance to the cave, to this tree village, is miles above the surface, so it’s difficult to see what else resides on the ground floor. Falcons with yellow, orange, and green-tipped wings fly overhead, along with smaller colorful birds and insects with vibrant shells and wings.

  I’m sure Estelle can sense my amazement, seeing as it’s written all over my face. As if to surprise me even more, she says, “Follow me!”

  Before I can respond, she suddenly jumps over the edge, disappearing from my sight. I dart to the edge of the cliff and look over to find her bouncing up and down on an enormous mushroom-like plant, laughing hysterically.

  Confusion begins to replace my awe. “What is this place?” I ask out loud, even though she clearly can’t hear me.

  “Are you coming or what?” Estelle calls from twenty feet below.

  I scoop Juniper up and take a deep breath as I bring myself closer to the edge. I focus on the giant mushroom that Estelle is rolling off of. Just as I’m about to jump, I notice a dark mist slowly starting to take shape around me. Juniper jumps from my grip and scurries back into the depths of the cave, to somewhere I can’t see. I call out to her, but she doesn’t come.

  When I turn back around, I watch the beautiful backdrop of the tree village fade, faster and faster, until I’m enveloped in nothing but darkness. A figure in a crimson cloak floats before me with its head pointed down toward the ground. A shiver runs down my spine as a cool draft sweeps through the cave-turned-abyss.

  I can’t help but feel panicked. Where is Estelle? And Juniper? Where is the tree village? More importantly, what is this thing floating in front of me and how the hell did it get here?

  “Come, my child.” The sound is enough to make the hair on the back of my neck stand. It sounds like a male, but could easily be an older woman with a deep voice. The figure extends its arm and beckons for me to approach, its spindly fingers curling in and out. “You do not belong here.”

  I remain rooted to my spot, as if I’m one of the long-standing trees I’d just witnessed moments ago in the cave—a place I desperately wish I could go back to.

  “Who are you?” Even though my heart is pounding in my chest, my voice comes out confident and harsh, which is surprising, even to me.

  I can almost hear the figure’s lips crack as its mouth twists into a grimace. “You don’t know who I am?”

  Anger churns deep within my belly, although I’m not sure exactly what’s causing it. “Of course I don’t know who you are,” I shoot back. “That’s why I’m asking.”

  A low guttural sound emerges—it sounds like a laugh, but could easily be mistaken for a cry of pain. “You belong with us. Your powers are too strong for them. Don’t be foolish.”

  A strange sensation washes over me and a tingling erupts in my fingers and toes. I suddenly feel drawn to this figure, creature—whatever it is—and I find myself taking a step closer.

  “That’s it,” the figure purrs. “Keep walking.”

  I stop in my tracks. “I will not be taken for a fool.”

  A snarl. “That’s sinister news for your dear friend. Should you tell him or should I?”

  My mouth opens to respond, but before I can say anything, a seemingly real image of messy, matted black hair and tired gold-flecked eyes appears, wrists and ankles bound in chains. My hand flies over my mouth as the realization hits me. Rydan.

  “This should change your mind.” Another gruff sound erupts from deep within the figure’s throat.

  Even though I’m angry, hurt, and appalled by Rydan’s recent actions, seeing him in such a vulnerable state—weak and defenseless—is enough to make me cringe in disgust. And it’s enough to make me think twice about whatever proposal I’m about to hear. “Let him go,” I growl.

  “You assume this is my doing?” Another spine-tingling laugh. “Incorrect, but thanks for playing.”

  “Let him go!” I say again, louder this time.

  But the figure just stands there next to the image of Rydan. Rydan and his pleading eyes. Begging me. Save me, Arden.

  I don’t know what comes over me, but my anger suddenly neutralizes. “You don’t deserve to be saved,” I say under my breath.

  The cloaked figure turns its head to the side, as if in shock. “My, my. There she is. I’ve been waiting for you.”

  I stand still, my eyes flicking back and forth between the thing and Rydan. He doesn’t deserve to be saved.

  “Join us,” the figure hisses. It extends its gangly fingers toward me once again.

  I reach out to take the figure’s hand, but just before I do, both it and the image of Rydan vanish into thin air. My eyes roll into the back of my head as my body thuds to the ground.

  

  I’m not sure what to think when I regain consciousness. My head pounds in rhythm with my heartbeat, which is rapidly accelerating as I recall recent events. Darkness. Crimson cloak. Lanky fingers. Reaching . . . reaching for me.

  You don’t belong here. Join us.

  The whispers circulate through my head like a flock of birds flying south for the winter, desperate to get away from the cold. Desperate to be anywhere but here.

  A familiar feeling.

  The thumping in my chest begins to slow as I focus on the person in front of me. Violet eyes. Midnight hair. A calm, yet concerned expression.

  Estelle reaches a hand out to me and pulls me up from the ground. “Are you okay? That was a pretty nasty fall you took.” Her eyes travel at the same time mine do, up to the edge of the cliff I allegedly fell from.

  I lightly rub the back of my head. “So, I didn’t jump? I fell?”

  Estelle shrugs her shoulders, then bites down on her lip. Concern, mixed with something else I can’t quite put my finger on, is written all over her face. “It looked like you were going to jump, but then . . .” Her voice drifts off. I can tell she’s struggling to find words to explain what had just happened.

  “I must have lost consciousness from the adrenaline and all,” I say quickly, hoping it’ll end the conversation. “I
’m okay though.” I look down to my left, then to my right, suddenly feeling panicked. “And Juniper?”

  Someone whistles behind me, and it’s then I realize we’re not alone. “I’ve got her right here,” a familiar voice says.

  I whirl around to find Juniper happily curled up in Barlow’s arms, eating some berries from his open palm. Felix Barlow, ship captain. The same ship captain that took both Rydan and me to Lonia for our mission.

  I gulp down the memory as I look back and forth between these two strangers, feeling confounded at the realization that somehow they know each other. “But you . . .” I point to Felix, unable to finish my sentence.

  “Welcome to Orihia,” Felix says. He wipes the berry remnants from his hand onto the side of his trousers, then makes a grand gesture at the tree village surrounding us. “Home to the Caldari.”

  My thoughts immediately shift to my quarters at Trendalath Kingdom and the many books I scoured, the many rumors I tried not to pay attention to. But they’re true.

  They’re all true.

  “The Caldari,” I whisper. “So, it’s not a myth.”

  Estelle and Felix stay silent, surely to let this baffling piece of information sink in.

  “Your abilities?” It comes out as a half-statement, half-question, but Estelle and Felix seem to catch my drift.

  A coy smile tugs at his lips. “Would you like us to tell you or show you?”

  Is he being serious? Obviously, show me! I open my mouth to respond, then quickly shut it. On second thought . . . “It depends on what your abilities are.”

  He chuckles. “Smart girl.”

  Estelle shakes her head with a grin. “She’s already witnessed my abilities. Isn’t that right, Arden?”

  I blush as I recall the almost-encounter with Tymond’s soldiers.

  Estelle raises an eyebrow at Felix. “That means it’s your turn,” she says with a sly grin.

  Felix nods before gently setting Juniper on the ground. The little marble fox immediately runs to my side. “I will forewarn you, my talent isn’t quite as discreet as Lady Chatham’s.” I don’t say anything. I just stare at him, hoping he won’t say the one thing circling my mind. “And it will require your participation.” I lower my head and close my eyes.

  He said it.

  Felix walks a number of steps in front of me and readies himself. He rolls his neck and cracks his knuckles, two things that never help to put my mind at ease. “Are you ready?”

  I take a deep breath and nod. I’m the one who asked, who wanted to know, and now, I’m about to find out.

  “Right then,” Felix says. “I need you to attack me.”

  It’s hard to stifle my disbelief. A cross between a snort and an awkward laugh escapes. “Come again?”

  But Felix isn’t laughing nor is he smiling. His eyes are dead-set on mine, his expression grim. “I said, attack me.”

  I look at Estelle for confirmation, just to make sure Felix hasn’t completely lost his mind. When she nods, I turn my gaze back to him.

  “Um, okay,” I manage to say. I pull my chakrams from their holsters and position myself in my throwing stance. “Are you sure about this?”

  “Wow, Eliri, I didn’t take you for such a . . .”

  I know exactly where he’s going with that one and I don’t allow him to finish his sentence. Just as I gear up to throw the chakrams, something incomprehensible happens. My weapons drop from my hands, clinking together as they fall to the ground behind me. And somehow, a little boy stands before me.

  The Soames boy.

  Rydan stands next to him, drops of crimson falling from his skull. “You must complete your mission.”

  My hands shoot to my throat. I feel like I can’t breathe. What’s happening? My heart thumps in my chest, faster and faster, as the world grows dim. Tiny spots dot my vision, threatening to take over my full state of consciousness.

  “You must kill him. Innocent or not.”

  The pool of red grows larger at his feet, and it’s the first time the sight of blood makes me queasy. I fall to my knees, one hand clutching my throat, the other holding my stomach. This feeling is not one I’m used to, not one that surfaces often. My stomach twists as though I’ve been stabbed with multiple knives and someone is turning the handles over and over again. There’s no denying what this feeling is.

  Fear.

  “I can’t,” I gasp. But my body and mind refuse to align. I find myself crawling toward the Soames boy. He’s docile, like a deer in the middle of a quiet meadow. I continue to crawl toward him until I reach his feet.

  When I look up, the boy is still staring straight ahead, but Rydan is looking down at me, his lips twisted in a sickening grin. “Do it,” he whispers.

  I break free from Rydan’s gaze and slowly bring myself to my feet. I open my palms and extend my hands toward the boy’s throat. Instead of looking at me, he seems to be looking through me, as if I’m not even there. Don’t do it, a part of me whispers. He can live. He doesn’t need to die. But the other part of me is urging, pleading. It’s stronger. It’s telling me to kill, that I must complete this mission.

  I do it all the time. Why should this be any different?

  I can feel my pupils dilate as I bring myself closer to the boy. My breathing becomes more rapid as my hands land on his neck and I squeeze, pressing my thumbs and fingers harder and harder against his skin. I’m almost positive they’ll leave an indentation. The boy’s now-bulging eyes finally land on mine as he begins to gasp for breath. But he doesn’t flail. He doesn’t fight.

  I’m strangling him and he’s . . . he’s letting me.

  A deep current of longing and retribution washes over me. Thoughts of power and justice consume me. I lick my lips as the boy’s gasping becomes louder and louder. My hands are shaking, but I continue to press, continue to squeeze. I can feel Rydan watching me, devouring every move, every breath I take. This is me. This is who I am. A killer.

  And I enjoy it.

  Just as the boy’s eyes are about to roll into the back of his head, panic seizes me. My hands retreat from the boy’s throat to my own. I begin to hyperventilate as I stumble backwards. I fall to the ground, gasping for air. My airways are closing and the only thing keeping me conscious is what little oxygen I’m getting. I can’t breathe.

  My hands fall to my chest, my eyes darting back and forth, looking for some sign of Estelle or Felix. As luck would have it, both Rydan and the Soames boy begin to fade as a head of black hair rushes toward me.

  “Arden!”

  Estelle—at least I think it’s Estelle—lays me down onto the ground. She presses my hands onto my chest. “Shhh, shhh. You can heal yourself, remember?”

  In my head, I nod, although I’m not sure if the motion comes across, and I try to still my gasping. I put more pressure on my chest, doing everything I can to channel my healing energy. A soft glow appears, illuminating the features on Estelle’s face, and I can tell by her smile that I’m doing something.

  I’m healing.

  My breath begins to even out and my chest falls back into its regular rhythm. Estelle leaves my side and darts over to the other side, where Rydan and the Soames boy had stood. I can’t see what she’s doing, but as I gingerly prop myself up on my elbows, I notice that Felix is lying on the ground.

  Gasping.

  Even though I feel weak and short of breath, I rise and rush over to him. There’s fear in his eyes as they land on mine. His breathing becomes even more labored, his chest pumping up and down at a terrifying speed. I furrow my brows as I try to calm him, but it’s not working. And then he gives me a look, one that says back-off-now-or-I’ll-kill-you.

  “Move!” Estelle shouts as she barrels toward us. I shuffle out of the way as she kneels to Felix’s side. She moves his hands from his throat to his chest, just like she did for me. “Focus on me, Felix,” she whispers. “Focus.”

  “I can help,” I say, still trying to wrap my hea
d around what had just happened. “I can heal him.”

  Estelle shakes her head. “You’ve done enough for today.”

  I open my mouth to respond, then close it. I scoop Juniper up from the ground and walk over to the nearest tree. I slide down the bark slowly with the fox securely in my arms, my eyes trained on both Estelle and Felix.

  It doesn’t take long for Felix to sit up, and when he does, I push myself up off the ground. Estelle helps him to his feet. His head lifts and, with a snarl on his face, his eyes meet mine. He storms over to me until he’s just inches from my face. Surprisingly, I don’t flinch.

  “What the hell was that?” he shouts. “Who do you think you are?”

  With a bewildered expression, Estelle runs over to us and places her hand on Felix’s shoulder. “There’s no need to shout.”

  Felix pushes her hand away. “You,” he growls, shaking his index finger at me, “are not one of us. We’re hardly ever wrong, but this time, we are.”

  I keep my mouth shut, too afraid to speak.

  He lowers his finger and cocks his head. “You should just leave.”

  “Felix,” Estelle pleads, “please don’t.”

  I look at him with a pained expression. I try to find my words. “Felix, I have no idea what just happened. Whatever I just did, or didn’t do, I didn’t mean to, I just . . .” My words are jumbled, just like my thoughts. “Can you explain to me what just happened?”

  My apologetic tone seems to sway him, if only slightly. “I’m an amplifier.” The words come out just above a whisper. “I can amplify fear and other emotions in my attackers.” He shakes his head. “But you . . .”

  His silence is brutal. “But what?”

  Felix sighs. “As much as I tried to amplify your fear, I couldn’t.”

 

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