He wondered why Tyrus had not chosen to cross the barrier then.

“There is a wise Cruithne proverb that says thus: I need not fear my enemies because the most they can do is attack me. I need not fear my friends because the most they can do is betray me. But I have much to fear from people who are indifferent. Their other kingdoms have not yet risen to our aid. Their indifference to our plight most troubles me.”

- Possidius Adeodat, Archivist of Kenatos

XIX

A deep fog settled on the Scourgelands just before dawn. It blocked the first rays of day and wreathed the gorged oak trees in voluminous folds. All night they had walked, save a little while to rest, and Phae felt the chill settle deep into her bones. The mist left dew on her face and hair, and she wiped the trickling beads away from her lip, hunched over with fatigue. Only her fear went deeper than the cold.

Her father’s sudden alteration in personality had unsettled everyone. They had trudged in the darkness, stumbling against twisting roots and uneven ground. There were no stars to guide them and for all Phae knew, they had walked in indeterminable circles all night long. The humbling of Kiranrao had altered the mood even more. The Romani was like a shade, aloof and silent, sulking beneath his dark cloak and cowl, his eyes burning with hatred. There was a palpable dread in the air, a silent vow of revenge.

Phae stumbled again on a wretched root and Shion caught her, keeping her from crashing into the gorse. The mist gave the woods a ghostly menace and brought out strange smells, dead leaves and bracken mixed with the ever-present stench of decay. She wrinkled her nose, reviling the scent. Deeper than the cold—even deeper than the fear—a slowly twisting pain had begun to grow inside her bowels. It was as if she had some rough stone deep inside her that was trying to pass its way out.

Sister.

Phae shuddered as the thought brushed against her mind. The woods had been speaking to her since they had entered the Scourgelands, but always it was a distant shushing sound, whispers too low to be heard.

She ground her teeth and ignored the voice.

Sister—come to me.

Phae swallowed, hugging her cloak more tightly around her shoulders. Mud and dirt were caked into the seams and cracks of her skin. She glanced at Shion, seeing nothing but iron determination. He seemed to sense her look and turned his gaze questioningly at her.

She shook her head.

Sister—you must join us soon. I sense the change coming over you. If you do not bond with a tree, the magic will pass outside of you and you will lose all your gifts.

At that moment, it didn’t sound like a bad idea.

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?