The Curse of Death & Time: The Runed Series, #3

By B.C. FaJohn

A LAND FORGOTTEN...
Lost to a place long forgotten, Cateline must turn ash and soot into wealth and opportunity. The sun bleeds for no man while trapped in the wastelands of a fallen kingdom, and if she wants to make it out alive, she must master the things that terrify her.

ALLIANCES TESTED...
In darkness, there is hope. When Cateline is forced to work alongside the few people she'd ever consider an enemy, she finds that the divide between a friend and foe is as thin as love and hate. Stuck with only her wits to guide her, she discovers that what she once thought to be evil could be the only thing keeping her alive.

 

A CROWN RESURRECTED...
As evil beckons, it brought forth creatures that should only exist in stories designed to scare children. Lost souls bow to a crown covered in the blood of the fallen whom each owes their life not to the king, but to the Queen of Death herself.

When Death requires a new reign, magic itself cowers at the sight of power.

• Language: English
• Publisher: B.C. FaJohn
• Release date: Feb 6, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224437955

B.C. FaJohn

ABOUT THE AUTHOR B.C. FaJohn is an independent Fantasy author that found her calling in her early teenage years. What started off as short stories and forgotten fan fictions now are vast, epic fantasies and romances set to whirl you into a new realm. Subscribe to her mailing list and join her website to stay up-to-date with the latest releases, as well as earn early access & exclusive content! www.bcfajohnbooks.com

Book preview

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Copyright © 2023 by B.C. FaJohn

All rights reserved.

No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law. For permission requests, contact [e-mail].

The story, all names, characters, and incidents portrayed in this production are fictitious. No identification with actual persons (living or deceased), places, buildings, and products is intended or should be inferred.

Book Cover by B.C. FaJohn

Map by B.C. FaJohn

Edited by Hailie Camarillo

1st edition 2023

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Contents

Content Warning

Tandem Read Guide

Map

Act One

1.The Blight

2.A Quiet Place

3.Hope

4.The Gate

5.Hungry?

6.Ticklish

7.Logbooks

8.Varin

Act Two

9.Queen

10.Once Upon a Time

11.Stubborn

12.Dangerous Words

13.Music

14.Calla

15.Drákon

16.Run

17.Darling Lover

Act Three

18.Chaos of Magic

19.Greedy

20.Burned for Revenge

21.Every Soul

22.Perfect Moment

23.Save Time

24.Trust

25.Nightmare

26.Games

27.Get Out Alive

28.Curse The Kingdom

29.Hands on Them

30.Saved You

31.No Timeline

32.Consequence

33.A Plan

34.In The Stars

35.Wings

36.Celestial Bonds

37.Patience

About the Author

Content Warning

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Hello lovely readers!

This book is the third entry in my Adult Fantasy Romance series, The Runed Series. This is not the steamiest of the bunch, but there are some pretty heavy themes.

I will do my best to outline these things in a comprehensive list, whether these themes are graphically detailed or spoken of in passing. This list is in order of severity. If you notice anything missing, please get in touch with me at [e-mail], and I will have it added immediately.

Again, thank you for reading this book. I hope you enjoy it! :)

To the list…

Broken Bones; Blood/Gore; Magic & the Occult; Sexually Explicit Imagery & Scenes; Emotional Abuse/Manipulation; Depression & Anxiety; Themes of sexism; Fictional religion; Sexual References; Fever-Dream sequences & Hallucinations; PTSD; Death;

According to the Romantic Content Rating System, this book scores a 5/10 or depicts at least one romance scene with strong content.

Tandem Read Guide

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Book 3 (The Curse of Death & Time) and Book 4 (The Curse of Crowns & Fate) can be read in tandem. Book 4 does not release at the same time, but if you'd like to go back and read it in tandem, the guide will be permanently available on the author's website (https://www.bcfajohnbooks.com/tandemread)

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Act One

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A Land of Monsters

1

The Blight

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Time and death, when tested, were as futile and easily lost as sanity.

Something about bony, fleshless fingers made her question just that—her mind, morality, and will to live.

Cateline stopped fighting the skeletal guard halfway through their journey. They walked between carved paths of dead vines and shrubbery, and whenever she turned over her shoulder, she caught sight of the pathway closing back up.

I understand you’ve had a frightful few days, Heryndel said, not caring to look her way when he spoke. He walked with his hands drawn behind his back. The horns on his head looked like they’d spent centuries trying to decay but somehow failed. Cracks, splits, and ashes covered them. Cateline scowled at the forced sympathy. She knew this man didn’t care about her. He was vile.

Don’t pity me, Cateline said with narrowed eyes. Where’s Roen?

He paused, the guard behind Cateline stopping abruptly when he turned. With his dull orange eyes and saccharine smile, the elf frowned at the question. He encompassed Caius’ obsidian necklace with his palm and turned halfway to look at the castle perched on top of the hill. They’d gotten so close that it was visible through the haze. He was lost to his own devices, Cateline. Such an unstable state of mind is never healthy for the soul.

Cateline’s heart dropped to the pit of her stomach. She recalled how his mind palace had crumbled beneath her feet. The air choked in her chest, and she wondered what of Roen was true and what of him was a puppet show led by the Dark Prince. She knew she had to play along, though. The glimmer of evil in his eyes was impossible to ignore.

You killed him? Cateline breathed. The coldness to her tone must have bitten him, because when he turned to her, he had the expression of a lost, vulnerable child. She wanted to spit in his face. He approached slowly.

Do you think of me as a murderer? Heryndel asked. Cateline tilted her head to maintain eye contact, and then she noticed the slit in his pupils. Feline, predatory, monstrous. She refused to answer. The silence must have rocked through him, because, to her surprise, he flicked his wrist and silently commanded his guard to let her go.

Cateline stepped away and rubbed her sore skin, gaze hardening on him. I have read your stories, she said. I know you worked to eradicate magic with my family for years. You have more blood on your hands than I could ever fathom.

His pathetic expression drooped into neutral, cold indifference. There were no fake smiles, whimpers, or questions. He reached up to stroke her cheek, but as his forefinger grazed the shape of her jaw, he latched onto it and leaned down so his breath overwhelmed her senses. She tensed and tried to push him away, but his other hand already grasped her wrist tightly. This was the same cruel, ancient anger she’d felt when Roen attacked Varin in his castle.

You ungrateful little bitch, he seethed. Would you like me to let you run around the dead forests, trying to master the blight as if it would bow to you? Aiora would have a fantastic time hunting you down for sport, if that’s what you desire.

Cateline held back the venom in her throat, eyes watering as pain blossomed along her jaw. She wanted to take hold of his heart—if he was mortal enough to have that—and watch all the life drain from him by her hands. But that wasn’t possible. She was weak.

Coward.

Aiora can hunt me down all she wants, Cateline ground out. I’m not afraid of her.

His eyes were feverishly intense. But Adeline... The name turned her cold, both in terror and pure, unquenched rage. Heryndel’s lips tugged into a smirk. He tapped the tongue on the roof of his mouth and got so close that she could feel the vibration of his words. The lamb trembles beneath the weight of a lion. She would do such evil things to you, Cateline. It would be so, so lovely to see.

Cateline winced and tried to create as much space as possible. His breath was rancid, but something about him allured her. It was instinctual and against her will. It had to be magic, but what kind? She hadn’t a clue. I will kill her, even if it’s the death of me.

Heryndel laughed and finally let go of her. A big, toothy grin lined his features, and it was then that she noticed he had fangs. After rubbing her jaw, she rolled her shoulders and tried to straighten her posture. Dubious weight over her shoulders made her slump, eyes turning heavy.

I knew there was a reason that drákon scum chased after you.

With a flourish of his hand, she collapsed onto the ground and saw the vines intertwining over her. Before her eyes had fluttered shut, all light vanished as the world consumed her whole.

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The ground was cold and rough against her skin, cheek dragging against the floor as she lifted her head. The world spun, forcing her to reach for the ledge of a small window above her head. Just when her fingers curled around the stone, she slipped and crashed right back down, cracking her nose against the hard ground. She cried out, immediately moving to cup her face and pinch her nose to slow the blood that seeped between her fingers. She rolled onto her back and stared up at the tall ceilings. Water dripped off a metal pipe that lined the beams, and when she turned her head to the side, she saw the puddles were muck-brown and smelled of mold.

Cateline forced herself up and leaned on a wall. Stars overwhelmed her vision. She had likely ruined her nose with that fall, but the bleeding stopped after she used a small bout of magic.

Approaching the barred window, she looked out the dusty glass and saw nothing but an empty, blackened wasteland for endless stretches. Her ears perked when she heard footsteps from down the hall, and by the time she’d dragged herself to the wooden door, their voice was rumbling against it.

I hope the sleep treated you well, Aiora cooed. Rage settled in Cateline’s chest. Heryndel told me about your little tiff. Do forgive him. He doesn’t do well with bratty princesses, historically.

Scowling, she said, Let me out, Aiora. You and I know it’s the right thing to do.

Is it? Then, a mechanical latch was released. The door swung open, leaving only open-air between them. The elf flicked her gaze across her face, lingering at the sight of her nose before smiling. Get in a fight with yourself, Princess?

Cateline knew she wasn’t the one to drive the dagger through Thaddius’ chest, but if Aiora had replaced her twin, would it have ended any differently? There was no way to tell for certain, but it was unlikely. Greed, power, and envy already ruined her.

I should kill you where you stand, Cateline spat and moved closer to Aiora. Each breath exhaled through her nostrils stung. Narrowing her eyes, she stood nose-to-nose with the elven traitor, but no remorse or fear littered her gaze. You let Thaddius die, and for what? To have a scrap of bone sharpened into blade?

At least that hit Aiora in the chest, because, for a flickering second, she saw the essence of sorrow cast over her features. It was a sacrifice Adeline had to make. He fought to protect you. We fought to protect our destiny.

Cateline bared her teeth and smashed a balled fist into her nose without a second thought. It was a poorly formed attack that sent a wave of pain down her arm, forcing Aiora to stumble back. Blood flowed freely from her nose as the elf leaned over and groaned. Cateline tried to shake off the ache before Aiora could stand back up and return the favor. Without another moment of hesitation, she pushed past Aiora and ran toward a flickering lantern at the other end of the hall. It was like a guiding light, but a wave of terror washed over her when all Aiora did was laugh.

Aiora’s words fueled so much anger inside of her. She didn’t know she could hate somebody so vehemently. Practically smashing into the wall as she skidded to a stop, she turned to see if Aiora was chasing her, but she was gone. Only shadow and dirt remained.

On either side of her were empty halls lined with dancing lanterns. To the left, a dark shadow loomed near the end, and to the right there was dust breezing in from an opening. Cateline took a moment to lean over her knees and catch her breath before heading down the right wing. She dragged her fingers across the rough stone walls, holding onto anything that would keep herself grounded, but each shadow she passed looked like it was slithering after her. When she got to the end, relief loosened the tightness in her chest.

There was no window or door—instead, a huge, gaping hole stared at her and revealed the blight outside. The light was dim through the thick cloud cover above, and as her boot pressed into the gravelly ash outside, the vines formed a path. Her hands trembled, but she pushed herself to follow it. From where she stood, she saw the castle perched on top of the hill. The elements had almost completely ruined it, with an eastern wing that was crumbled and torn to shreds. However, the western side somehow held strong.

Slowly spinning, she looked for anywhere else she could go. The roots were thick and sprouted from the soil in ways that meant to deter her. Thorns stuck out of the wood so sharply they could almost cut her for simply staring too long. Beyond these stretches of vines and roots, though, was unknown. The fog was too thick to see that far.

She kneeled by the stem and grabbed hold of it, tugging and tugging until it came free from the ground. A handful of sharp barbs lined it all the way to the top. She had to hold it in the tiny sections between shards, but even then, the microscopic hairs pricked into her skin like needles. She smiled strangely, but it was a momentary lapse of panic, because the second she held the broken root in her hand, the foliage moved toward her in response. Cateline had to muffle her scream as she forced herself back up and sprinted toward the castle. The vines lashed at her like whips, even going as far as making her stumble each time they tried to wrap around her ankle. Cateline cursed at it, only stopping when she reached the top of the hill where a stone pathway greeted her.

One that lacked the woven chaos of the blight.

She halted to catch her breath and saw the roots shift, slithering away soon after.

Shaking her head, she jumped back to her feet and approached the large castle doors. The doors had giant metal locks, but were rusted and broken. All it took was a gentle tug at the handle for it to creak open.

A draft wafted down the halls as she entered the foyer. She clung onto the makeshift, thorny weapon and hugged the walls as closely as possible. There were only two sounds—the forgettable droplets of water falling from a broken beam, and the idle chatter in a room just ahead.

What do you mean you plan to keep her alive? a voice howled in disbelief. A woman vaguely familiar, but entirely out of reach.

What else do you suggest I do? Heryndel sighed. We still need her rune. What good is she dead?

You have Adeline, and even if you didn’t...the Firstborn is awake, a calmer voice chimed. Aiora, perhaps?

Cateline covered her mouth and stopped outside the door. It had two broken hinges, so it swayed just enough with the breeze to allow visibility of what was happening inside. It was strangely clean and decorated, with a fresh oak dresser lining the wall. There was a lit fireplace, and despite the exorbitant amount of soot flitting between rays of light, all it needed was a bit of dusting. Above the mantel was a mirror that revealed Heryndel, Aiora, and Adeline, just out of sight. Her twin swiftly moved away from the elf and out of view completely before she could stare too long.

Yes, Heryndel said and snapped his fingers, "but Adeline made the glorious discovery that if Cateline was hurt, she would be too. Besides—"

Just let me have a go at it, another woman shrieked. Adeline, it had to be. I can handle a little pain if it means ridding us of that pest.

She’s better served on a platter, the most distant voice tittered in agreement. It was like they weren’t even in the room. A fourth, somewhere nestled in a shadow out of sight. It drove Cateline mad.

Heryndel sighed, smacking a hand on a wooden table to silence their chuckles. Adeline, do you truly believe you are equipped to do what we need her for just because you stole her rune? Silence. Cateline watched his ashy face spread to a wicked grin through that tarnished mirror. She’s better served as a trophy. One on my lap, raising the dead and reviving the kingdom.

A shuffle, scoff, and then fleeting silence. Adeline cleared her throat and said, I’ll survive it, Heryndel. Just kill her. She won’t last out there long, anyway.

She survived the wild fae once, Adeline…do not underestimate her wits, came that distant voice. Cateline clamped her hand around her mouth to muffle her gasp. The fourth distant, yet ever present, voice belonged to none other than the fae queen. But where was she if not in the room?

A hum of approval as Aiora shifted away from Heryndel’s side, eventually coming back into view at the mantel. If Cateline wasn't careful, she could easily be seen.

You have no faith, Heryndel, Adeline spat. "You wake from your eternal rest a smarter man, have you? Well, I have my own doubts."

A chair scratched against the broken stone floor, the clatter of a metal cup vibrating against the desk as it was set down. Heryndel pointed at Adeline off to the side, seen only by the mirror. You watch your tongue. Let’s assume I show you mercy for your outburst…tell me...how would I find her corpse? Make sure she’s really dead?

Utter silence.

The magic on the land is still strong, and with Venysa’s return, it will only become stronger. We need her for this to work. Heryndel shuffled somewhere in the room, the back of his head visible in the reflection.

Aiora followed his move, her eyes twinkling. Need her, or want her?

Shut your mouth, he snapped. Aiora held her hands up in surrender, but a smug smirk lined her features. Even if I wanted to appease you both, we all know how weak our senses are within the confines of the blight. It’s only a matter of time before she’s as sentient as a walking corpse.

Adeline quickly said, And what of the drákon?

Drákon... It was a name that dared to slip off of her lips, unfamiliar. They spoke about it like it was intimately rooted in society. Just another measly creature cursed to walk the lands.

What of him? Heryndel asked with indifference lacing his tone. He’s lost to the blight, of course. I made sure of it.

Aiora hummed. You are quick to forget the strength of the dragon-blooded.

Do not forget the blood Caius and I share, he said with cool anger. It was somehow more terrifying than his screeching outbursts. "Five decades was plenty of time to scrutinize our power. I have no doubts that he died. And, even if he hadn’t, the blight will swallow him whole."

I am not so convinced. Aiora soughed. "I worshipped the ground Seraphine walked on, and I knew nothing of him until it was already too late. I thought he died long ago…are you sure he’s not the Lamster of Death?"

Heryndel tapped his fingers on the surface of the wooden furniture irritably, but didn’t chastize her for the remark. It was like they both feared and mocked him all in one go. I will send a party out tonight, then...

Ask them for an eyeball, Aiora snickered. I’ll sell it back on the mortal shores.

And that ugly drákon ear, Adeline chuckled. Just one. Fun little trinkets, it’d be.

In the meantime, he said, pushing beyond their remarks. The wooden door of a cabinet creaked open. We wait and drink.

You’re so sure she’ll find her way here? Aiora asked. She ran for the hills when I visited her cell.

Only time will tell. I can’t hear a thing over the ringing of this cursed blight.

Adeline’s seat creaked beneath her weight. Are you positive that’s not age? You slept for nearly half a century.

"Slept is a far kinder word than I’d use, Ada. Walking in the skin of mere mortals was more tiring than traversing the blight during war. Heryndel paused, then clapped his hands together. Nevertheless, revel with me...and perhaps I won’t show you the consequences of jesting a king."

How boring a night that would be.

Aiora narrowed her eyes, but a smile slithered onto her lips. Time stilled when her focus darted toward the door, realization settling onto the elf’s straight face. She harshly bent her fingers in front of her face before flourishing it harshly—quickly. Aiora was flicking at Cateline in such a forgettable way; she wasn’t sure it was intentional. But when her face twisted into disgust, the hand falling to her side, she sank back into herself.

Air trapped in Cateline’s chest as uncertainty overwhelmed her. Aiora hadn’t looked in her direction again since the gesture, but it was unmistakable enough; a silent portent amid the wandering eyes of wolves. It was a moment of apprehension, of purpose. So, Cateline backed away. Her steps were as quick and quiet as a viper before turning and searching for an alcove to hide. Aiora had seen her... had to have.

What is it? the distant feminine voice echoed. Cateline nearly forgot they were part of the conversation at all, considering how lengthy Heryndel bickered with Aiora and Adeline. It was like they were an afterthought…one clawing at the bits to be included.

Ash, Aiora lied. Terrible, terrible ash.

Cateline continued to retreat, only pausing when she was certain she was safely tucked away in an crumbled room down the ruined eastern wing. There, she hid behind rubble until the sun had set, thorned hope clutched to her chest as sweat dribbled down her cheek.

2

A Quiet Place

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The days felt longer here. Cateline feared making any noise by shifting out of her hiding place. A crack in the wall revealed a sliver of sky—just enough distraction to pass the time. Thick, hazy clouds spanned well beyond the horizon, and she wondered if it would clear up should somebody cure the land of the blight. The sun slowly shifted in and out of cloud cover until eventually tucking beneath the horizon, and as if on cue, shuffling feet echoed from her left. Cateline shifted into a crouched position and pressed her ear against the cold stone boulder.

The voices were hisses in the shadows, exotic and ancient from what she could pick up. They tittered and bickered like mere mortals, but when she peered past the corner, she saw skeletons limping out of the foyer entrance. They held swords at their side that were cracked, broken, and worn down from the elements around them, but they would do...especially if they were going to hunt down the drákon and make sure it—or they—were gone for good.

Cateline clenched her jaw, and after a few more moments of silence, she moved from cover and hugged the wall until she was at the corner of the foyer. They were already fast approaching the hill, but Cateline needed to maintain enough distance that she wouldn't be caught. In here, she had alcoves, shadows, and rubble to hide behind. Out there?

Nothing but rotten vines and the thin stems of dead shrubbery.

Loosing a sigh, she counted to three before moving out of the castle. Despite her feathery steps, her feet echoed up to the vast ceilings. It was no better once she was out the doors. The gravel beneath her crunched, and she only allowed herself to breathe when she made it to a tall wall near the broken wrought iron gates.

She had nothing better than the thorny stalk to defend herself with. Those abused, jagged swords would slice through it and her easily. Gripping onto the small section between thorns tightly, she clung to the wall as she descended the broken steps. Despite the lack of wind, there was an unusual chill in the air, and every time she thought she was getting used to it, another shiver rocked down her spine.

Every cracking twig made her spin around and want to strike at the skeleton, monster, or stranger—but each time the instinct reared its head, she would turn to find nothing. Cateline scowled, trying to force herself away from the paranoia. It was so dark, the moonlight providing no light between the thick fog and cloud cover.

Her boot snapped the root of the vines, and before she could jump forward and away from the terrible things, they latched around her ankle and held her in place. Another shot up and sliced into the skin of her wrist as it slithered around her forearm like a bracelet. Cateline hissed and bit her tongue to conceal her pain, the thorns digging in so deep it felt like they were searching for bone.

Tears welled in her eyes, legs buckling, but if she let herself collapse, she'd fall right into a pit of thorny blight. It ebbed and flowed, sentient...aware. Cateline choked out a sob and finally allowed herself to collapse. Thorns dug into the rough skin of her knee, piercing in effortlessly. She cursed and tugged to escape, but it constrained her. One of the tendrils coiled around her waist, tucking beneath her fighting leathers before traveling the valley between her breasts. Each slithering motion brought another sting, puncture, or cut. It spiraled around her neck, tightening like a python with razor-blade scales. Her eyes widened, and she thrashed, digging every thorn in deeper. One of the vines restraining her arm forced the tiny cut open wider, blood pooling out of it and down her thumb. Her bottom lip trembled, the pain blossoming into agony.

Before the stems could slither over her cheek, they stilled—loosened their grip, too. The tightness in Cateline's chest released the second they let go of her arms, but the real relief happened when it slid out of her shirt. She immediately fell onto her palms and almost coughed up bile onto the ground, but she knew she'd already made too much sound.

So, she swallowed it.

Looking up at the blight, she watched as it dwindled away to retreat back into the dead foliage as if it hadn't just attacked her more efficiently than a trained soldier. Her nose, still broken, ached as the wind blew hair in front of her face, and every inch of skin the blight had cut open stung.

One stem, however, remained near her hand. It slithered across the ground in front of her as if to form a barrier and stopped. It made no move to slip back into the dark, dead shrubbery that devastated the lands. Cateline licked her lips, fingers grazing against the dirt, and reached for it hesitantly. Her hand trembled, but she knew these cursed vines had a certain degree of wits to them. They had to. Otherwise, they wouldn't part the seas of death...wouldn't attack when provoked.

When she was close enough, she latched onto the small stretch of thornless stalk and waited. For it to attack, for it to shred her skin to pieces, to do much of anything—but it did none of those things. Instead, it grew before her very eyes—thin, hairline stems digging into the dirt and biting down. Then, she could sense the world's trembling roar.

It was subtle in most places. More forgettable than a tree branch aching in the wind. Less prominent than a violent surge in the ocean. So deliberate it could not be ignored. The vibrations stretched far. But as quickly as she noticed them, they were gone.

Cateline let go of the blight and stood slowly. She stepped over it as if she expected it to hold her back, but realized she was safe—for now—when it retreated into the bunches of dead shrubbery behind her. Blood still dripped down her thumb from the largest gash on her arm, the air stinging the open wound, but she pushed onward. The skeletons had gotten so far away that she wouldn't have been able to track them if it weren't for the paths still loosely defined by broken bits of vines.

She paused, fearing what would happen the second her boot pushed into the brittle, crunching leaves and twigs, but she figured the worst thing to come of it would be death.

And, at that point, death may have been the easier way out.

To her surprise, Cateline was not attacked for snapping the fragile stalks or crunching the dry leaves. In fact, it formed a wider path for her. The wind whistled in a way that pushed her forward, a whispering guide in the midst of darkness.

The journey was quiet and dark. She wasn't sure if the shadows were blurring due to the pain that swelled from her head to her toes, or if there wasn't enough light to be coherent even with the healthiest of eyes.

Just as she was banking right with the curve of the pathway, the blight groaned, breathing open a crossroads that had yet to exist prior. She paused, squinting. The shadows curled and crawled to form a clear trail that led westward, away from the path that the skeletons clearly had taken.

Cateline swallowed the lump in her throat and leaned down, reaching for the stalks again. This time, she did so with confidence—even if it was foolish and based on nothing other than her intuition. Just like it had near the castle, she felt the vibrations rumbling east. To the west, however, it was the most minuscule clattering that could be mistaken for silverware against fine china. Her head turned to the path, but when the vines jerked her east, she understood what it was asking her to do.

Sentience in death—even death of plant life—both terrified and enthralled her. She had no reason to trust what it was guiding her to, but without another moment of hesitation, she sprinted through the darkness to follow the winding eastward path.

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After a few minutes, she slowed her pace to a walk. Her bones ached, but she felt the need to rush. She feared the darkness and all that loomed around her, but the thick patches of blight somehow comforted her. It was like a fortified wall of cessation, as counterintuitive as that safeguard may sound. She glanced up at the sky and tried to find the moon. It should've been somewhere just ahead, hanging in the eastward skies, but the clouds were thick. It was void of all light, night's darkness cascading between stretches of lighter gray clouds.

The blight grew sparser, but not because of healthier lands. No, quite the opposite—the dirt was dry, the few trees surrounding were either snapped in half or rotting away, and there was a certain stench that she couldn't quite make out. Her nostrils flared, a putrid feeling bubbling in her gut as she reached to cover her nose and mouth.

In the distance, there was a rumbling that didn't resemble a growl or a snore. It was guttural, animalistic, yet somehow serene, as if blanketed by sleep. Cateline slowed her pace and squinted into the darkness, approaching a small bunching of tall trees. They were far vinier than a normal tree ought to be, and even under the cover of night, she could see the trails that spiraled off of the trunk, branches, and pieces of bark. Like the rest of the blight, though, it lacked leaves—well, live ones, at least.

In the center of the bole closest to her were two slits that had the subtlest glow, but in the blackness that surrounded they were beacons of light that she yearned to be near. Anything to provide warmth, guidance, and relief from the shadows.

But she’d never be so stupid.

Cateline may have considered herself a fool on most days, but that wasn't an option. Not today, not tomorrow, and likely not the next day... if she had any hope of getting out of this blight, at least. She needed her wits about her.

Getting as close to it as possible, she kneeled down and looked at the vines that stretched across the barren lands for as far as her eye could see. The roots traveled to the trunk, wrapping around it before stemming off into branches so large they looked like they'd crush the sturdiest house. Blinking, she saw something swinging off one of the limbs.

It consisted of twigs that bent into the shape of a cage the size of a small human. Although difficult to see, she could hear the most subtle hissing that consumed the quiet air. Staying in that crouched position, she moved that much closer and rubbed her eyes. There was a shadow in the cage; motionless, forgettable, silent.

Her nostrils flared, the stench so much stronger up close. The softest dripping noise thudded onto the dry dirt beneath the cage. She wasn't sure if it was blood, or something else—either way, dread coiled in her gut.

Twisting to the glowing slits on the bark, she noticed the subtle shape of eyelids protruding in bulbous curves that didn't belong on the likes of a tree. There was a horizontal slit beneath the eyes that parted no larger than the width of her pinkie. Like the blight, the branches slithered back and forth as if snoring. When her gaze returned to the swinging cage, she understood that this was no ordinary tree.

It was sentient, a slumbering monster that could wake at any moment with her just inches away from its face—one so humanoid that she had to rub her eyes. And in that cage was its meal.

Cateline pondered on backing away and returning to a more secluded place to rot. Death sounded enticing when her only other options were darkness, curses, and cruel, evil people.

Groaning called to her, one of pathetic, hopeless despair. Cateline swallowed the lump in her throat and stared at the cage a moment longer, as if expecting something to lunge out of it. Only when she was certain it was safe, she shifted her gaze to how the vines separated and conjoined together, swirling around the tree like a dress rather than rugged, brittle bark. Who was trapped in the cage? Cateline didn't know, but the blight had led her here for a reason.

Perhaps it was for death. Perhaps it was to save a life.

Despite the deep desire to run and find the strength to swim to a shore far away, she licked her lips and dug her boot into the gap between two vines, hooking a hand around another above her head. The tree rumbled like a snoring man, but when her head jerked in the direction of the face, she saw its eyelids closed shut.

Shit, shit shit. Cateline hadn’t ever seen a beast like this.

Her fingers were slick with sweat, and her head pounded at the same rhythmic tune of her tired heart. Angling her head back up, she flared her aching nostrils and winced when she pulled herself closer to the nearest branch. Cateline reached for the next split in the bark, but her finger slipped, and she nearly collapsed back to the ground. Fortunately, her feet and hands latched onto whatever they could. The air rushed out of her, and as