Page 145 of Cycle Keeper’s Shadow

The path ahead narrowed between two jutting ridges, rock crowding close on either side. Mist pooled thick beyond the opening, opaque and unmoving. As they crept toward the stone, the hair rose along Wren’s neck. The buzz of insects thinned into an unnatural hush. The sound of the Creepers grew closer.

Suddenly, Orzen cried out in pain behind her. She spun to help him. His leg was caught in a stinging vine, but he shouted, “Go!”

Calen pulled Jessa forward at the front. They disappeared into the mist, skidding down a short rise and out of sight. The sound of Orzen’s sword slicing through the vine echoed behind them. Wren hesitated for a single heartbeat before following them, sliding down the ridge, bracing for a strike—

But it never came.

Orzen slipped down the drop beside her. Above them, the creepers clung to the ridge, thorn-limbs thrashing, but none crossed the line of mist. They hissed in frustration, their coal-red eyes burning, but every time a limb touched the fog, their bodies recoiled as if scorched.

Wren let out a shaking breath. The air had shifted. Sounds changed here, reverberating strangely, as if the world around them had narrowed into a hollow chamber. The mist pressed close, heavy and damp against her skin.

“Smells like the bog,” Garin muttered.

Above them, the creepers fled, their limbs skittering back across the leaves until even their echoes faded. She knew where they were now. The Whispering Hollow.

In Wren’s mind, as clearly as if it carried through the mist itself, Leora’s warning from the map surfaced. Stay on the path.

Chapter 37

The Whispering Hollow

Rock walls rose sharply from the dense fog on each side of a marshy expanse, divided by a thin, packed dirt path. From the soggy depths, bleached, white husks of trees rose, their limbs heavy with moss. Mist curled and floated around them like fingers beckoning them closer.

“Is this…?” Branwynn whispered, hugging Tommick close.

This, is. Is this, is this?

A warped whistle echoed her words back, disjointed and broken. Wren shivered, head turning toward the sound, but it bounced from every corner at once.

“The Whispering Hollow,” Wren breathed. “We need to move quickly. We’ll chain across—hold onto the person in front of you. And whatever you hear, don’t leave the path.”

A sound rippled toward them—a chirring laugh, insect-like and wrong—hissing from the mist. It wasn’t human, but it was too sentient for an animal.

Leave the path. The path. Leave.

Her own words returned jagged. Each repetition overlapped the last, twisting itself into an unnerving chorus the further it carried. Calen looked back, eyes wide. Wren forced a small, steady nod, though her skin prickled.

With a bracing breath, he turned to face the bank ahead. The mist swirled thick enough to swallow the world completely. Jessa gripped his shoulder. He laid his hand over hers. Branwynn took Jessa’s free hand, and Tommick pressed against her chest. Garin reached next; Tommick’s small fingers latched onto his. Crumb never peeked from Garin’s collar, but he clutched the fabric with tiny trembling hands.

Wren slid her hand onto Garin’s shoulder. The solid strength beneath her palm steadied her. The mist clung damp and heavy, pressing close as though weighing each of them in turn—probing, sifting their thoughts with cold insistence. Once they were through, the Glade would be close. She held onto that thought as she gripped Garin’s tunic.

Then Orzen’s rough, scarred fingers slipped through hers. His grip was tentative. When she glanced back, he nodded once, slow and firm, then brushed his thumb across her knuckles. Wren swallowed, squeezing his fingers. She gave Calen the signal, and he stepped forward. The chain followed him into the mist.

Each scuff of their shuffling feet was too loud, echoing strangely in the fog. Then came an odd hiss, like a distant whisper. It started in broken syllables but solidified the further they stepped.

Tavrin’s voice whispered, I’ve missed you.

She froze, her breath snagging. It wasn’t him. She knew it couldn’t be. But the sound of it—stars, it tore at her chest. It was like he was right there beside her. She twisted her fingers hard into Garin’s shoulder.

At the front, Calen stumbled, nearly dragging Jessa sideways off the path. His eyes glistened with a weight of grief he’d never allowed them to see before.

“Cerys?” he asked, voice breaking.

Cerys. Ceryyyys. Cerys. Calen, I’m here…

The whispers layered, multiplying until they swallowed the Hollow in a whirlwind of sound.

Jessa seized him by the shoulder. “Calen!” she shouted desperately. He stared into the mist like he could see someone waiting there. “It’s not her,” Jessa said. “She’s not here.” She gripped hard until his gaze snapped back into focus, eyes locking with hers, wet with unshed tears.