Choose me.
Another thought interrupted the first. With the thought came a deep compulsion to look at a specific oak tree, shrouded in the mist.
“Be careful,” Phae warned in a loud voice. “The Dryads prey on our minds right now. Look at the ground. There are many around us.”
“Can we pass through them?” Tyrus asked, his voice stern and impatient. “How many?”
“I don’t know,” she answered. “I sense others ahead of us. They are . . . thicker in this part.”
“Are we reaching the center?” Annon asked.
“Too soon,” Tyrus rebuffed. “Don’t look at the trees, any of you. Stay close to each other. Come in; tighten ranks. Now!”
The impatience of his voice only increased Phae’s dread. What if something had happened to her father? Or what if this was his true self coming out at last, now that they were deep into the dreadful woods? What if everything he had done or said before was an act—a way to lull them into willingly joining his mad quest? A part of her heart went black at the thought and she shook her head angrily, hating the feelings that surged inside of her.
Join us, Sister.
You are the first Dryad-born to enter these woods. Where is your mother?
I will be your mother. Set me free!
Phae clenched her fists and tried to force the thoughts away from her mind. They continued to pass the enormous trees, ducking low to avoid drooping branches. A cold prickle went down her neck, as if an invisible hand had reached out to touch her.
“What is it?” Shion asked her, grabbing her around the shoulder and pulling her close to him. “You are flinching at shadows.”
“I hear voices.”
“I hear none.”
“Perhaps they are only luring me then. When we first entered the woods, I heard them as whispers. Now I can hear their words. They’re pleading for me to join them, to release them from the curse of this place.” She kept stride with him, focusing her eyes on the ground and not the woods. There were Dryads all around them now. She did not understand how so many could be clustered together so closely. She had believed that each tree was unique and stood alone, protecting one of the portals to Mirrowen. How could so many have grouped together?
Speak to us, Sister!
You are Dryad-born.
You must swear the oaths. You must before it is too late.
“I hear the voices as well,” Annon said in a strangled whisper. “They are truly all around us. Tyrus, it is madness going this way.”
“Press on,” Tyrus replied. “Keep their thoughts at bay.”
“How?”
“Yank off the talisman, you fool.” He muttered something else under his breath.
Silver light expanded the area’s details as the dawn grew more pronounced against the skeletal boughs. Phae wanted to look up and feast her eyes on the light, but she dared not.
Look at us.
Be one of us.
Only you can free me, Sister. Please . . . I have waited so long.
You brought men. Thank you, Sister.
We will each claim one.
Phae tried to cover her ears, but that did not help in the least. She felt Shion squeezing her shoulder, digging his fingers into her skin.
“Can you not hear them?” she gasped in desperation.
“No—not a word.”
He will betray you, Sister. We know him.
You cannot trust him.
He betrayed us all.
“Talk to me, Shion,” Phae said, feeling desperate. The urge to look at the trees was maddening. “Anything. I can’t stop the voices in my mind.”
“Baylen!”
The shout came from Paedrin.
Phae turned and saw the Cruithne had stopped. He was gazing off toward the trees, his expression confused. They had nearly walked off without him.
“Baylen!” Paedrin shouted again.
The Cruithne did not seem to hear him. He took a step away from them, a hesitant one.
Paedrin swept into the air and landed near him, grabbing at his tunic sleeve. “Can you hear me? Baylen!”
The Cruithne turned and looked at Paedrin, his expression full of distrust and confusion. He shook his arm free, his face deepening into a scowl.
“What is your name?” Paedrin asked.
The Cruithne stared hard at the Bhikhu. “I don’t remember.”
“You are Baylen of Kenatos. You are my friend. Now follow me away from this place. Come!”
Baylen turned back and looked at one of the trees, a hulking shape with branches loaded with mistletoe. Phae averted her eyes, feeling the urge to stare at it gnaw inside her. The cramping became worse and she bent over, gasping.
You can hear us, Sister.
We’ve already taken his mind.
He is useless to you now.
Leave him to us.
To me.
Phae panted with pain. “They’ve taken Baylen’s memories.”