Page 68 of Black Hearted
Tomorrow was probably my last day alive. I wasn’t ready to let go. I wasn’t ready to let him go.
When we finished eating, and fatigue finally tugged at my limbs, I wrapped my cloak around me and nestled close to the fire, trying to find some rest. I glanced up at Zane, who sat next to me, his gaze fixed on the dark forest. He didn’t look like he had any intention of sleeping.
“Will you sleep?” I asked softly.
“Yes. When we end the curse and leave these lands,” he replied without looking at me.
My mouth dropped open. “That could be days from now.”
I was hopeful we’d reach the Tree of Transformation tomorrow, but even then, it would take at least a day or two—if not more—to walk out of this place.
“Then I’ll sleep in a few days,” he declared with a stubborn set to his jaw.
I thought about arguing but quickly realized it wouldn’t do any good. Zane was protective, selfless, the kind of person who put others before himself. He was staying awake to guard me.
And it made me soften to him all the more.
“Wake up, Lorelei.” Zane shook my shoulders, pulling me from sleep. I knew he hadn’t slept because I looked for his door in my dream void, but it never appeared. I’d just been about to walk through my father’s door to say goodbye to him when Zane woke me.
“What is it?” I asked, sitting up, bleary-eyed and disoriented. It was still dark, but the full moon cast its bright light down on us, illuminating his features.
The sound of rushing water reached my ears, jolting me fully awake.
“Black water or some sort of oily liquid,” Zane said grimly. “I’ve dealt with this stuff before. It’s nasty. We need to get to higher ground.” He grabbed both of our packs, urgency evident in his movements.
As I quickly donned my bag, I peered into the woods. The black liquid was pooling on the ground, and through the trees, a wave of it was coming straight for us, the moonlight reflecting off its surface.
With a yelp, I jumped to my feet, scrambling to get to Zane. He held out his hand, and the moment I grabbed it, he clamped down on mine, pulling me along as we rushed up the side of the rock shelf. But the climb was treacherous. There were no proper handholds or footholds, and every time I found some purchase, my boots slipped. Zane was having the same trouble, climbing three feet only to slide back two.
We weren’t climbing fast enough. The black liquid surgedtoward us, splashing against my ankles. I felt a tug on the rope around my waist and glanced over to see Zane untying the knot that bound us together.
“What are you doing?” I asked, panic rising in my chest.
“Just making sure I don’t drag you to your death if this water pulls me away,” he said grimly.
“Don’t let it pull you away!” I shouted, my voice shaking.
The top of the rock shelf was just above my head but still out of reach. I tried again to climb higher, but the oily substance coating my boots made it impossible.
“Permission to grab your waist?” Zane asked, his tone tense.
“Yes,” I cried. This was no time for chivalry.
His firm hands gripped my waist, and he pushed me upward with surprising strength. With a shriek, I scrambled over the top of the ledge I’d been sleeping under only minutes before. Relief, however, was fleeting—Zane was still down below.
“Now you,” I yelled, dropping to my belly and reaching down for him.
The black substance had already reached his knees.
He threw the backpacks onto the shelf and leaped, his hands barely gripping the edge of the overhang. I grabbed his forearms, trying to pull him up, but he was far heavier than I could manage.
The rushing noise intensified, and I glanced up to see the oily liquid raging through the forest like a river, gray foamy rapids slamming into trees and bending them in half.
“Don’t let go,” I shouted over the cacophony.
Zane grunted, kicking his legs in an attempt to push himself up, but one of his hands slipped.
“No!” I screamed, grasping for his missing hand.
