Chapter Four — The Choice
Keya:
“Five…”
The word drips from his mouth like a warning bell, deep and sharp.
I can barely breathe. My back is pressed to a tree, bark biting into my spine. The cloak is clutched to my chest, its wool scratching my skin, but I can’t seem to pull it around me. My hands are frozen, useless.
“Four…”
The air shifts. Leaves crunch somewhere in the dark. It’s the kind of sound that makes the hair on your arms stand up before your mind can place it. My heartbeat slams against my ribs, too fast, too loud—I’m sure they can hear it.
“Three…”
A low snarl echoes from the left. Another answers from the right, closer. My head snaps between the two. Eyes gleam from the shadows, catching the moonlight, amber and unblinking.
“Two…”
My legs feel weak. I could run, but in this dress? In bare feet? They’d have me down before I took ten steps.
“One—”
“I’ll come.”
The words spill out before I can think them through. The stranger doesn’t smile, doesn’t waste time. He grabs my wrist—not roughly, but with a grip that says there’s no turning back—and yanks me into the trees.
The world becomes a blur of black trunks and silver light. Branches whip at my arms and snag in my hair. The ground is uneven, littered with roots that try to trip me. Every breath burns my throat, every inhale tasting of damp leaves and iron.
Behind us, the wolves follow. I hear the pad of their paws, the snap of twigs, the low, hungry growls. One lunges from the side—I feel the rush of air as it misses me by inches—but the stranger moves like the forest belongs to him. A quick turn, a low branch shoved aside, and we’re gone again.
“Faster,” he mutters, not even out of breath.
I stumble, almost go down. His hand shoots out, steadying me without breaking stride. For a second, I catch the scent of him—smoke and cold rain—and something about it punches a hole in my chest, like I’ve smelled it before. But then the ground drops.
We slide down a slope, dirt and leaves kicking up around us. At the bottom, he doesn’t pause. He pulls me toward a massive oak, its trunk split at the base. Thick vines curtain the hollow inside.
“In,” he says.
I hesitate. The opening is black as pitch.
“Now.”
I duck through, the space swallowing me whole. It smells of earth, damp wood, and something older—magic. He follows, pushing the vines back into place.
Outside, the growls are louder, the wolves circling. My pulse is still racing when I hear him pull something from his belt—a small pouch. He scatters powder in a wide arc at the entrance. The air hums, a faint shimmer like heat over stone appearing between us and the night.
The wolves stop. They pace, snapping their jaws, but don’t cross.
“What is that?” I whisper.
“Barrier dust.” His voice is low, controlled. “Temporary.”
I swallow, hugging the cloak tighter. “Who are you?”
His head turns slightly, but the hood hides most of his face. “Not your enemy.”
“That’s not an answer.”
He exhales slowly, like patience isn’t his strong suit. “If I told you everything now, you wouldn’t believe me. So you’ll have to see it for yourself.”
I shake my head. “I don’t even know why you helped me.”
For the first time, something sharp cuts through his calm. “Because if you die here, everything your mother fought for dies with you.”
The words knock the air out of me. My mouth goes dry. “My… what?”
His gaze flickers toward me, quick, assessing, like he’s measuring how much to say. “You think those people back there are your parents?”
My stomach twists. “They are my parents.”
“No,” he says, firm, final. “They aren’t.”
The vines rustle. I freeze. The shimmer at the entrance flickers once.
The stranger’s hand goes to the knife at his hip. “We’re not alone.”
And then a voice slips through the night—soft, urgent.
“Keya?”
I know that voice—have known it since we were small girls hiding in the kitchens to steal warm bread.
“Lina?” I breathe, hardly daring to say it aloud.
The stranger’s grip tightens on my arm before I can move. His hood tilts toward me, voice low. “You know her?”
“Yes, she’s—”
He cuts me off with a look I can’t read. “Voices can be stolen.”
Before I can ask what that means, the vines shift. A shadow slips through the shimmer of the barrier. My pulse spikes. It’s her.
But not how I remember.
Her dress is torn, streaked with dirt. One sleeve is gone entirely, revealing claw marks down her arm—angry, deep, still bleeding. Her braid hangs loose, half-unraveled. And her eyes… they dart to the stranger, then back to me, like she’s not sure which of us is more dangerous.
“Thank the moon, you’re alive,” she says, stumbling toward me. “I—” Her voice catches, her breath hitching as though she’s run far. “I saw what they did to you. The video. The rejection. I tried to get out before the border closed for the night.”
The stranger steps between us. “How did you cross?”
Her gaze snaps to him. “I wasn’t talking to you.”
“Answer,” he says, not moving.
Lina’s jaw tightens. “The same way I’ve crossed before. The same way I got herbs from rogue territory for your mother when the healers couldn’t.” She shifts her weight, winces at the pain in her arm. “Now let me through. She’s hurt.”
I glance between them, my head spinning. “Lina, what is going on? You said before—at the gardens—you said they planned this. Who’s they?”
Her eyes meet mine. For a second, I see the Lina I’ve always known—loyal, fierce, willing to break rules for me. But then something passes over her face, quick and guarded.
“Not here,” she says. “The trees hear things.”
The stranger snorts, but doesn’t argue. He crouches near the barrier line, fingers brushing the dirt. “It’s fading. We have minutes before they get in.”
“Then we move,” Lina says sharply. “I know a place.”
He looks at her like he’s deciding whether she’s worth trusting. “Or you’re leading us straight into a trap.”
Her eyes flash. “If I wanted her dead, I could have left her at the border with the rogues.”
My head is pounding. My shoulder still burns where claws raked me. Every word between them feels like a riddle I don’t understand.
“Enough,” I say. “If we stay here, we all die. Let’s go.”
The stranger studies me for a long moment before nodding once. “Fine. But if she steps wrong, I’ll know.”
We slip out through the vines, the cool night air biting at my skin. The forest is darker now, the moon veiled by clouds. Behind us, the shimmer of the barrier sputters—and then vanishes entirely.
The growls return, closer this time. Too close.
Lina glances over her shoulder. “Run.”
We do.
Branches claw at my dress, tearing the hem higher with every step. The ground is uneven, littered with hidden roots and sharp rocks. Somewhere behind us, the wolves crash through the underbrush, their snarls ripping through the night.
The stranger moves ahead, his stride long and sure. Lina keeps pace beside me, but I can see her bleeding arm slowing her. I grab her wrist, pulling her forward, refusing to let her fall behind.
“There!” Lina gasps, pointing to a tangle of boulders ahead. In their shadow, I see the black mouth of a cave.
The stranger reaches it first, ducking inside. I shove Lina ahead of me, following fast. The cave smells of damp stone and moss, cool air brushing over my skin.
The moment we’re inside, the stranger turns to block the entrance. From his pouch, he scatters more of the shimmering powder. The growls outside cut off abruptly, like a sound muffled by thick cloth.
Lina collapses onto a rock, clutching her arm. Blood stains the stone beneath her.
I crouch beside her, pressing the cloak against the wound. “Tell me now,” I say. “Who planned this?”
Her lips part, but before she can answer, a voice drifts from the cave’s dark inner tunnel.
“You finally brought her.”