“Come on, lass.” Rowan holds out his hand to pull me up, but before I’m even on my feet, a faint rustling fills the air around us.
The dark undersides of the leaves begin to shift as the shade beneath them starts to move, creeping along the thick green stems like a swarm of ants, collecting and gathering on the loamy jungle floor. The earthy humidity that has been our companion all morning seems to drain from the air as the coolness of night filters into the clearing. And as the chill brushes against my skin, the green-gold scent of the jungle is overwhelmed with a familiar odor that speaks of the sweetness of rot and the dustiness of memory.
The shadows creep along the ground, encircling us like a giant serpent eating its own tail. Then they begin to billow and grow, until we are penned in by them. Until the darkness begins to block our view of the jungle beyond.
When the shadows begin to lick at our feet and ankles, I’m assaulted again by the images from my past. The forest reaching for me. Calling to me.
I try to shove the images away, but the shadows continue to gather and grow, slowly shaping themselves into the winged creatures built from nightmares. Already I can make out their massive shoulders, the claw-tipped nails of their skeletal fingers.
But when a branch cracks out in the jungle, somewhere to our right, the Dark Ones go still, as though listening for what made the sound. Rowan raises his blade, his eyes narrowed in alertness as he shifts uneasily, watching both the swirling shadows and the jungle beyond.
After a moment, the Dark Ones begin to billow and grow once more. Back to back, we track them as they circle us. I grip the dagger tightly in my sweat-damp fist and take shallow, anxious breaths as I watch the shadows finally begin to coalesce into dark, broad creatures.
Another crack sounds in the jungle—this time from the left.
Rowan glances at me, and the look on his face tells me what I’ve already realized—it would be impossible for a single creature to have moved that far so quickly. The Dark Ones seem to sense it too. Half-formed, they go still, and their metallic rustling changes—grows sharper. Then, without warning, the Dark Ones shrink, melting onto the ground and flowing like dark water back to the shadowy undersides of the leaves.
Rowan’s expression mirrors my thoughts exactly—neither of us wants to meet whatever it is that can chase away the Dark Ones.
Without a word, Rowan takes me by the hand and picks a new path at random. Behind us, around us, the jungle crackles with life, but the sound isn’t the steady pulse of before. The trees rustle more erratically and urgently as we break into a run. Behind us, the crackling rush of a tree falling pushes us to move faster.
At first I think we’re putting distance between us and whatever’s out there. But when the path empties out into a small clearing, I see we’ve reached a dead end. In front of us, a rocky precipice rises straight and sheer, blocking our path. Around us, the jungle shudders as the path we’ve just come down closes.
Rowan’s eyes meet mine. His expression is tight with the knowledge I’ve already comprehended—whatever’s out there wasn’t chasing us. It was herding us.
“What do we do?” I whisper.
“You still have the dagger I gave you, aye?”
I glance over at him. “Yeah.”
“Keep it out.”
The jungle shudders again. Another crackling rush of trees falling just beyond out view. And then the foliage at the edge of the clearing shakes.
“Steady, lass,” he tells me as two enormous creatures emerge from the still-silent jungle.
Of all the things I’ve seen since I’ve come to this world, of all the horrors I’ve witnessed, these creatures are the most horrible, the most terrifying yet. These beasts are more than twice as tall as any man, and they are like nothing I could have imagined.
Their long, claw-tipped arms and legs are corded with sinewy muscle that ripples and shifts as they move. Bloodred eyes set into their massive shoulders watch us as the beasts lumber into the clearing on long, powerfully muscled legs. Their leathery skin is drawn tight over their misshapen bodies, and their whole torso seems to be nothing but a huge, gaping mouth ringed with rows of teeth. Those horrible jaws are already open in anticipation, cavernous voids built to consume. To devour.
And the smell of them. They make the entire clearing reek with the stomach-turning stench of bloated, rotten corpses and the bitterness of despair.
The beasts close in slowly, taking their time, as though they know we have no chance of retreat, nowhere to run. Next to me, Rowan shifts, balancing his attention on both of the monsters. I raise the dagger I’m holding too. Not that I have any hope of actually injuring one of these creatures, much less killing one, but if I’m going to die here, I won’t die without a fight.