I tremble as her comfort eases my dread, and I grip her tightly.
Astella.
I am supposed to be her guardian, her protector, yet it always seems she is the one saving me.
My skin still crawls where he touched me. I still feel his hot breath on my neck. A predator ready to consume me whole.
I shiver at that thought because that’s exactly what I would be. They’d literally feast on my flesh while I still lived. While I begged for mercy.
Nausea claws its way through my body. I don’t want to think about what would have happened if I hadn’t managed to escape. Besides, I have another danger to focus on.
The cult warriors are not the only monsters in these woods.
My body continues to tremble without permission, but I will my bones to still and somehow manage to quiet my breathing. My very survival depends on this.
“You’re okay. You’re safe.” Astella croons in my ear. I grip her tighter and try to force myself to believe her words. Even if it is a lie, it’s a comforting one.
I must be calm.
The air chills. The brush under us and the thin cloth covering my body does little to keep us warm.
The spiritual beasts that haunt these trees slumber deeply during the day. The rumble of human and animal voices is not enough to wake them. Only the high-pitched whine of their young will disturb them while the sun is risen. It’s why we always follow the rule never to whistle in the forest, lest you wake our most fearsome creature.
We have some protections against them in our towns, but here, we are at the mercy of the shadowscelp.
Astella broke a long-known rule in a desperate attempt to save my life. She called one of the few things in this world even a warrior fears.
Foolish, foolish girl.
And I adore her for it.
Through the tree branches above, I watch in horror as the high noon sun slowly darkens until it is solid black.
Bitter cold descends over our hollow. I cling to Astella, shivering against her rail-thin arms and burrowing my face into the crook of her neck.
The small hiss of sizzling shadows begins as a low murmur in the distance.
The shadowscelp has long been the fear of our people. The living embodiment of shadows, that will suck the life from all living creatures unfortunate enough to be found outside.
Those who are taken by the shadowscelp return as a shell of their former selves. They will hide in the shadows, waiting for warm blood to pass nearby. Anything will do. Rabbit, deer, wolf, human.
For hundreds of years, it has been our tradition to hang sage over our door frames and carve blessing sigils into the foundations, all to stop this one creature from taking our spirits.
The back of my neck prickles. Are the cult warriors still out there? Will they be taken by the shadowscelp? Will a soulless Drak’yn be better than a regular one? Do they even have a spirit to steal?
For a time, my mother thought the warriors were an evolution of scelped humans. They acted similarly—killing indiscriminately and drinking blood.
But scelped humans do not use tools. They do not run in packs and act on orders. They do not ride lizard beasts or worship gods in sickening rituals.
No, the cult warriors are something more than the result of a desecrated spirit.
They are not what is hunting us now. The hairs on my arms rise as the shrill shriek of the shadow rings out through the unnatural silence.
“Don’t move. Don’t make a sound,” Astella instructs me.
I press my eyes closed so tightly it hurts, but I obey. We are somewhat hidden behind the roots of a fallen tree in this sunken hollow where it once stood. Even with the small bit of shelter, there is no hope we’ll survive an encounter without a structure.
“We will not die tonight,” she tells me.
