I’ll be honest; I squeezed my eyes shut for most of our journey. Good thing too, because my stomach still rolled like I was on a tiny fishing boat in the middle of a stormy ocean, even without looking. I didn’t open them until, at some point that could have been seconds or hours later, I felt Asher release his tight grip on my arm.
“Alright, we’re here. You can stop scrunching up your face now,” he said, sounding amused. “You look constipated.”
“Better than vomiting all over my shoes,” I grumbled, opening my eyes to find Milo doing just that: puking his guts out. Acacia had apparently taken him along on her shadow travels, because she stood next to him looking completely unfazed.
I watched Milo straighten up, his skin tinged blue with nausea. Poor Milo. He’d never shadow traveled before; I hadn’t gotten a chance to warn him to shut his eyes. Sure, I didn’t feel great now—my stomach felt like it might still decide to give up its contents with one wrong move—but I was better off than the first time I’d been dragged along with Asher.
“That sucked,” said Milo, with great emphasis. “I would like to never do that again. Remind me to take you on a long swim through a tropical storm sometime, return the favor.”
“Remind me to leave you behind next time instead,” countered Acacia. “Since you clearly would have preferred that?” She was smirking, her dark eyes twinkling in amusement.
“No, no,” said Milo hastily. “Let’s not make any rash decisions here.”
I grinned as their good-natured argument continued. Now that the nausea was fading, I began to look around. We appeared to be at the very edge of the dark forests, standing at the tree line, with rolling gray plains stretched out ahead of us. The landscape was broken only by occasional dark rocks and even darker trees, dotting the long grass over the hills. And off in the distance, if I squinted, I could make out glimmers of blue and gold on the horizon: a city. The closest to the forests they’d dare to build a Neverland city.
I’d never been on this edge of the forests before. It was certainly more appealing than the icy tundra where I’d met Jacian—though I had no doubt that if we lingered long enough here, we were sure to run into someone or something just as hungry.
Everything that had just happened was still racing around in my head, and without even meaning to, my gaze drifted down to the balled-up napkin I held in my fist. It had to be proof that the same murderer who had killed the human priest had killed the little harbinger girl. Which meant it had to be the same murderer who’d killed all the others.
Which meant that the murderer knew about Griffin’s Edge, and by extension, about me.
Asher nodded at the napkin. “You said something about the human priest you found?”
That’s right: I had told them about the priest, but not about the napkin. “Yeah,” I said. “There was a napkin just like this one—from Henri’s bar—in his fist. That’s why I thought it was the same killer who’d murdered the inhumans, traveling across dimensions.”
Acacia was staring at it, too, something like dread written across her face, any echoes of laughter from seconds ago long gone. “But we’d never even heard of the murders until you told us. No one in Oasis had.”
I think we’d all already put it together, but I had to say it anyway, to make it seem real. I swallowed hard. “I know,” I said softly. “And that would mean that I brought the murderer to you. I must have.” I waved the napkin for emphasis. “Clearly this was meant for me to find. Both times. Maybe the murderer didn’t know about Oasis before, or maybe he just didn’t care enough to come there—I mean, no offense, but a harbinger dying when no one realized you still existed wouldn’t exactly make headlines. But now…he must’ve followed us. Followed me.”
“And made it look like you killed that girl,” added Milo. “Smart.”
I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, credit where credit is due, I guess.”
Meanwhile, a slow smile was spreading over Asher’s face, almost mischievous. “Don’t you see?” he said excitedly. “This means we’re on the right track! It was a warning. The murderer is scared. He wouldn’t have come to the dark forests just to make a point if he wasn’t. No one comes to the dark forests without a really good reason.” He glanced sideways at me. “Well, except for you. All those times you popped up accidentally.”
I waved my hand dismissively. “Old news.”
Milo nudged my shoulder, blue eyes twinkling. “What are we waiting for, then? Let’s scare the pants off this guy. Lead the way into the fog, O Great and Valiant Errand Boy.”
With another roll of my eyes, I reached out a hand to feel the fabric of reality around us. Beyond the forest’s border, the air moved more easily, the ripples of time and space easier to sense. I stepped forward, following the flow of the invisible fabric, feeling for any threads, any tears—
There it was. A little to the left, a few steps out of the tree line. I gestured to the slight shimmer in the air. “Found a gap. Let’s go.”
We went through one-by-one, each holding onto the hand of the person after us, like a chain of little kids on a field trip. I went first, of course, as the resident expert in dimension travel. And only a few seconds later, the four of us were standing in a row along the path in front of Griffin’s Edge.
“So much better than your method,” Milo whispered to Asher.
I couldn’t help staring at the bar, at the familiar sign above its door, at the crowds packed wall-to-wall I could make out through the windows. No doubt it was packed with terrified inhumans as it had been for weeks. Maybe even more crowded if Sky had gotten the chance to publicize the fact that harbingers were still alive.
My heart ached to run inside, to check on Uncle Henri, make sure he was okay. And as I continued to stare, Milo’s arm wrapped around my shoulder. “He’s fine,” whispered Milo.
I nodded, blinking back tears that I hadn’t even realized were there. Henri could handle himself. He’d even managed to get us a lead, and I couldn’t risk someone else like Sky—or even the murderer himself, since he’d clearly been to the bar—trying to stop me if I went inside. Not to mention that I couldn’t bring Asher and Acacia in, but leaving them out here in the fog where anyone could find them also seemed like a terrible idea.
No, I had to follow the arrow on Henri’s scribbled drawing. Griffin’s Edge would still be there when or if I came home.
So, with a deep breath, I turned away from the paths for the first time in my life and began to march into the endless expanse of silver fog.
Milo, Asher, and Acacia stayed close as I moved forward. It only took a few seconds before the bar vanished into the shifting fog, leaving us completely surrounded by nothing but thick silver mist. It felt like we were inside the world’s largest, densest cloud.
I didn’t really know where to go from here, but even if I had, I don’t think it’d have done me much good. It was impossible to tell which direction was which. I guess we had just had to keep going and hope that eventually, we ran into something. Preferably something that wasn’t carnivorous.
“You really think there’s anything out here?” whispered Milo. His voice seemed to echo in all directions, reverberating through the fog.
“No idea,” I whispered back.
“I kind of like it,” said Asher. “Feels peaceful.”
“Feels creepy,” corrected Milo. “You’re insane.”
Asher shrugged. “I mean, it’s not so different from the dark forests. All looks the same. All one color. But there’s less here that wants to eat me.”
“As far as we know, at least,” Acacia pointed out.
Each word they spoke, even though their voices were quiet, echoed through the fog. So did our footsteps, despite the fact that I couldn’t see any ground—more silver mist surrounded our feet, as if we were walking on smoke.
Suddenly I stopped walking. I felt…weird. It had come out of nowhere; one second I was fine and the next I felt oddly dizzy, like I’d just spun in a circle for too long. The world seemed to tilt around me, and I sank to the ground with a groan.
I heard the others faintly calling my name, but their voices seemed very muffled, very distant, as if I was underwater. Even the hands on my shoulders seemed far away—I knew they were there, but I didn’t really feel them. My mind didn’t quite seem connected to my body.
Instead, I found myself staring ahead of us, out into the never-ending fog. I could have sworn I heard something else calling my name from somewhere in the mist, an old, layered voice that creaked with time and power. And despite the fact that my friends were right next to me and the voice was no doubt far in the distance, I heard its words with perfect crystalline clarity, as if they were being whispered directly into my ear.
Ian, it called. Ian Griffin…you are so close. Come to me. Find what is yours. Ian…
It filled my head, so loud I could barely think, reverberating though every corner of my brain. And yet I felt calm. Its voice seemed to call me to it, to draw me in with a magnetic force I couldn’t break.
The Ancient One knew who I was, and it was beckoning me to it.
I hadn’t even realized I’d closed my eyes, but I guess I had, because I opened them to find a sparkling silver line leading into the fog. A shimmering thread, thin but bright, as if someone had unwound a glittering ball of yarn to lead the way.
The dizziness vanished as quickly as it had come, and I slowly got to my feet, never taking my eyes off the silver path. I was certain it led to the Ancient One. It had to.
“Oh thank God, you’re not dying,” said Milo with enormous relief as I straightened up. “What was that? Are you okay?”
“Do you see the thread?” My voice was barely a whisper; I hadn’t realized how dry my throat suddenly felt.
Milo slowly turned to follow my gaze, but even when he appeared to be looking directly at it—I saw the glint of silver reflected in his glasses—he shook his head. “Ian, I don’t see anything.”
“Maybe he’s going crazy,” suggested Asher.
“You don’t see it either?”
Acacia and Asher both looked. Considering the worry on their faces instead of shock or awe, I knew the silver thread was invisible to them too before they even said anything. “There’s nothing there,” whispered Acacia hesitantly. “Not for our eyes, anyway.”
I still refused to look away, just in case breaking the line of sight would cause the thread to vanish. “I see a silver line,” I said. “I heard something, too. A voice, calling me. I think it’s the Ancient One.”
Any concern or doubt on Asher’s face was immediately replaced with excitement. “I knew it existed! It must want us to find it!”
“Seems like that,” I agreed. “Could’ve done without the dizziness, though.”
“Well, what are we waiting for?” Asher grabbed my arm and pulled me forward with a surprising strength, causing me to stumble and nearly lose my balance. He did not seem to notice. “Lead the way!”
“I would, if you’d let go of my arm and—”
I didn’t finish the thought, because suddenly there was a low growling from the fog. Asher and I froze, and he slowly released his grip on my arm to reach for one of the knives in his boot instead.
“Maybe that was a friendly growl,” whispered Milo hopefully.
Turns out, it wasn’t. A moment later, there was another growl, and this one was louder, angrier—and closer. I reached for my lighter carefully—
And something exploded out of the fog directly to my left. It happened so fast. All I know is that a large, dark shape burst out of the silver mist at an inhuman speed, sank its teeth into my left arm—and my God, did they hurt, I think they hit the bone—and immediately jerked me back the way it had come, so fast and so forcefully that I nearly blacked out in pain as my arm threatened to be torn out of its socket.
I heard Asher, Milo, and Acacia all yell, felt something whistle by—probably Asher’s knife—but they weren’t quick enough. The fog closed around me and my captor immediately; my friends were lost to the endless blanket of silver, and as the footsteps and screams echoed around us, I knew they’d have no way to tell which direction I’d been taken. Tracking us would be impossible.
I tried to fight against the beast dragging me along from its mouth like a chew toy. I was pretty sure it was some kind of dog or wolf, based on the thick dark fur and heavy panting noises it made as it carried me, fangs still deep in my arm. But there wasn’t much fighting I could do. Its mouth alone was nearly as big as my entire body, and like I said before, I was dangerously close to blacking out—again—from the pain.
I don’t know how long it ran before stopping and unceremoniously dropping me to the ground, pulling its teeth out of my arm slowly and painfully. I groaned and made no move to get up. However long it had been, I knew I couldn’t hear my friends anymore, not even the echoes of their frantic calls.
But we were still in the fog. Just endless silver mist. Me, and this monster dog.
Because I realized for sure now that it was a dog. Well, mostly. I squinted through the dark spots dancing in my vision to make out a massive, black wolf-like creature, except that it had crooked antlers on its head, above its pointed ears. Oh, and it had an extra eye in the middle of its forehead: three large amber eyes, all staring at me.
It growled as I made eye contact. “Sorry,” I muttered, and just looked up above at the swirling fog instead. I wasn’t really sure why I was apologizing to the beast that had just kidnapped me and nearly ripped my arm off. Call it instinct, I guess. I’ve spent a lot of time around inhumans and monsters, after all, and I was pretty sure this dog hadn’t attacked me of its own accord.
For one, it was clearly from the dark forests. There was no way it would even be here without instruction or force. For another, it wasn’t continuing to attack me. It was sitting over me, keeping up a steady low growl, while its middle eye looked at me and its other two looked off into the fog.
Like it was waiting on someone.
I tried to sit up. The wolf reached out a massive paw and smacked me back onto the ground, knocking the breath out of me. I wheezed as I felt the impact on my shoulder. There was a lot of blood soaking through my sleeve from where its fangs had pierced the skin and muscle and hell, maybe even bone. I was also pretty sure my arm was dislocated.
I groaned again, just in time for the wolf’s ears to perk up and its third eye to join the other two in looking into the fog. Cursing under my breath, I used its distraction to throw myself onto my feet, wincing at the jolts of pain and spots of black dancing across my eyes. But I made it; the wolf merely flicked its ear as I staggered upright and reached for Sgrios with my good hand.
I can’t accurately describe to you the feeling that came over me when the dark figure emerged from the fog. And I know what you’re thinking: Ian, you’re sure getting a lot of weird feelings lately. Trust me, I know. I’m not exactly a fan of them either. Here I was, thinking my life couldn’t get weirder than me jumping between dimensions and running errands for drunk dwarves…and promptly getting proven wrong.
Hopefully Ian’s Weird Feelings lead to answers soon, but for now all I’ve got for you is the fact that yes, I had another one when I saw the figure. It was a humanoid shape, though I couldn’t make out any features due to the dark clothing and cloak he wore. And when I saw it…well, the best I can relate it to is an overwhelming sense of dread, and yet, somehow, connection. Like I knew this person or thing, and like it knew me.
I raised Sgrios in my good hand, keeping it pointed at my new companion. “Real kind of you to send your dog after me. Great opener. I really enjoy starting new relationships by having my arm dislocated.”
The figure didn’t say anything. He simply stood there, motionless, and though I could only see the shadows of a face under his cloak, I could feel his eyes on me. “What? Nothing to say?”
Unease prickled through me as we continued to face each other, silence broken only by the wolf’s quiet growls. Something about the presence of this person was oddly familiar—I couldn’t quite put my finger on it, but I knew I’d encountered him before.
It didn’t help that my mind was both dull with pain and attempting to sift through the many potential memories and connections that might be relevant. It felt like my brain was trying to swim through molasses. Nothing was clicking.
New tactic. “What do you want?” I said. The words, like everything else, echoed. “How are you even out here in this fog? Why did you want me? I mean, if you like seafood, Milo’s objectively tastier.”
My joking tone fell utterly flat. And apparently I’d really annoyed it, because there was a pause—and then the figure flung itself forward, pulling out some kind of thin blade from beneath its cloak as it did so.
I cursed and swung Sgrios, trying to keep my balance, but it turns out it’s not so easy to do that with one dislocated arm. The figure avoided my ungraceful knife slashes and crashed into me, sending me flying backwards. I landed hard on the invisible ground, immediately wheezing for breath as pain exploded both in my shoulder and my back.
The figure followed me to the ground, and as it tackled me, as I tried to struggle and get a good stab in with my knife, its hands closed around my throat.
And that’s when something finally clicked in my sluggish brain: the dream I’d had when Orion had tried to strangle me. The silver eyes, the attacker who made them vanish—it hadn’t just been a dream. This was the same attacker.
No idea what that meant. I’d have to figure it out later, because the dark spots in my vision were rapidly expanding as I gasped for breath. One arm wasn’t enough to fight him off me.
Which left only one option. Gritting my teeth, I threw all my force into rolling over, muffling a scream as my dislocated shoulder took the weight. But it was enough. I’d surprised him, and now I pinned him, rolling straight into a thrust of Sgrios into his side.
I tried to get a look at his face, but my element of shock didn’t last long enough. I felt warm liquid ooze over my good hand as I ripped Sgrios from his skin—and that was all. Then he’d thrown me off, and once again I found myself on the ground, silver mist rolling around me, dangerously close to blacking out.
Man, one of these times I’d really like to maintain consciousness for an entire fight. At this rate, it seems like that’s maybe too much to ask.
I didn’t have any fight left. I’d used all my strength on that last maneuver, and my arm felt like it was on fire. I cursed mentally. Even if my attacker didn’t want to kill me, I was sure whatever came next wasn’t going to be fun.
Then, just as I blinked slowly, vision darkening, I saw it. The silver thread had reappeared. One second it wasn’t there, and the next, after one blink, it was back! And the voice came a second later. Ian, it whispered, creaking with age, You are safe now. Come to me.
“I tried,” I murmured, at the same time that the figure shrieked wordlessly, furiously, and lunged forward after me.
I hadn’t even realized I was moving, but apparently I was, and my attacker didn’t like it. I saw the dark figure and the antlered wolf vanish into the fog, and vaguely noticed that it felt like I was floating, though it was hard to tell, since the mist was moving around me too. But the silver thread seemed to pull me along its length, and the voice whispered to me that I was safe, and that I’d be there soon.
And somehow, it made me calm, like its voice was a lullaby I’d known once but forgotten, and I found myself lulled into sleep as it carried me through the silver fog.