She strained, sensing things in the mist that she hoped would continue to ignore the small existences of her and her friends. There were creatures here that made beasts look like tame puppies. She had no desire to run into them.
There. Her sense caught on something bright and warm. It felt big, an immense presence eclipsing the denizens of the mist by many factors. Her mind’s eye sensed that it wasn’t just of this world, its branches reached into many. Her curiosity sparked. If there had been time, she would have liked to study this effect. Perhaps explore those branches—see where they led.
“Follow,” Shea ordered, moving forward. Her footsteps were sure and confident as she headed toward what she hoped was a soul tree.
The others made no protest as she led them through the whiteout. There was the faint nicker of the horses as someone tugged on the lead. Their hoof beats echoed in the air, seeming to come from everywhere.
Time passed, slow and fast at the same time. That was the way of the mist though. It was hard to judge how long you spent wandering. It could be hours or days as they made their way to the tree, a shining beacon in this colorless world. Shea had to push down the sense of urgency growing in her chest. If Fallon was caught in this too, time would have that weird distortion to it as well. She sensed that if too much time passed, her opportunity to find him would close.
At last, the great tree loomed in front of Shea— a dark figure that rose high above them. Shea tugged on the rope, sliding it through her hands until Daere’s hands touched hers. Daere looked up at the tree with trepidation.
Shea caught her hands and placed them on the tree. “As long as one of you is touching this, you should be fine. Wait here until the mist dissipates or I come for you.”
“How do you know this will work?” Daere asked.
“I don’t. It’s the only hope I’ve got, but it’s better than nothing.” Shea didn’t mention she’d based this theory off two sentences of a tale that was so old that her people didn’t even know when or where it had originated from. It was a story Shea’s mom liked to tell her when she was younger—a cautionary tale about a man who’d been separated from his wife by the mist. Shea hoped their outcome was a little happier than that man’s.
Whispers echoed through the mist. Voices barely heard, their words indistinguishable.
“What is that?” Buck asked, his voice hushed.
“Ignore it,” Shea ordered.
Damn, it looked like something had found them after all. She’d hoped they wouldn’t have to deal with them.
“I think I recognize that voice,” a man she didn’t know said.
“You don’t. They’re shadows taken from memories. Whatever you hear, whatever you see, it’s not really there. They’re temptations meant to make you stray from safety. Don’t fall for it.”
“Will they attack us?” Eamon asked.
“They shouldn’t. The shades don’t have form. They attack by imitating the voices and faces of loved ones, usually those lost in tragedy. As long as you stay with the soul tree, you should be safe.”
She felt decidedly less confident now that she knew shades had found them. It made her hesitate, question what she planned to do.
Sensing she was waffling, Eamon said, “We’ll be fine, Shea. I’ll make sure we don’t leave the safety of the tree. You concentrate on saving Fallon. That’s your task, that’s what’s important.”
Shea took a deep breath and released it. That was what she loved about the Trateri. They didn’t take the easy path, even when death lurked on the harder road. They didn’t leave their people behind just because it was dangerous. They were stubborn, hardheaded and courted a death wish more often than not. She fit in perfectly.
“I should go with you,” Daere said.
“No, you’ll only slow me down. I need to be able to move fast and without distraction if I’m going to do this.”
What Shea didn’t say is she didn’t want the responsibility of another soul if this went wrong. She was as sure as she could be that they would be fine as long as they ignored the shades and kept in contact with the tree. Even with the shades present, what she was about to do was infinitely more dangerous.
“If it’s possible, I’ll bring him back.” It was a promise Shea intended to keep.
Shea could sense that Daere was torn, not wanting to let Shea take this chance but also not wanting to be the one responsible for Fallon’s death.
“Don’t fail,” she ordered.
Shea made a small sound of assent. She didn’t intend to.
“And come back safe,” Eamon added.
Shea took a deep breath. Her hand dropped, the rough texture of the rope sliding from her fingers. She took a step back and then another. A thick wave of mist blew between them, obscuring Eamon, Daere and the rest, muffling their voices until Shea was standing alone with only the sound of her own breathing to keep her company.
CHAPTER FOUR
SHEA MADE her way through a landscape unrecognizable from the one she’d set out in that morning. Even with the hazy white around her, she could tell this place was not the Forest of the Giants. It was a desolate place, filled with a deep quiet that swallowed Shea’s soft footsteps. Even if she screamed, that quiet would consume the sound, leaving not even the memory of it behind.
There was nothing holy or divine about this place. It was instead, oppressive and threatening with its inescapable never-ending sameness. If you got lost in this, you’d wander, never getting hungry or thirsty or tired. You’d just walk and walk. Forever. No purpose, no joy, no pain, no happiness, no sorrow. Just existence. Or so the stories said.
Shea couldn’t think of a worse fate.
The rock under her feet and vaguely similar landscape was the same as previous trips into the mist. She’d never gone this deep though. Normally she was trying to escape, not venture further into it.
When she was a child on a trip with her father, the mist had descended unexpectedly. She’d gotten cut off from the group and since she hadn’t been through the necessary training to develop a talent for finding her way through, she should have died. Instead, she’d discovered something odd. Something she’d never had the chance to verify because to do so was too dangerous.
On that long-ago day, she’d gone silent and still and listened, concentrating on her father until he was a dim beacon at the edge of her conscious. It was possible that had been the imagination of a scared child, lost and alone. She’d never experimented to find out for sure.
She suspected the connection had to be strong. It wasn’t something you could do with an acquaintance or even a close friend. It had to be someone that you loved with all your heart. The connection had to run deep, with tentacles all through your soul that couldn’t be severed even through death. That day, she’d been a terrified child intent on seeing her father again. It had been enough that she stumbled into his path against all odds.
Today, she hoped her feelings for Fallon would be strong enough to lead her to him.