Adrenaline pumped through his veins. Losing Connor and Tressa within the space of a day. One through the most bloody death he’d ever seen and the other gone, without a trace. She’d promised him they’d be together. Then she left. She’d vanished with the moon.
Scaling the top of the tree was his only hope of finding her. If she was still wandering, maybe he’d see her. Or he’d see some kind of path. Or figure out where his village was. He knew the fog didn’t reach up into infinity. The dying dragon in their village told him that.
He wished, only for a moment, that he had a dragon to fly on. He could soar over the forest, save Tressa, and then rescue everyone in the village.
Bastian steeled himself and began the ascent again. Connor’s death would not be in vain.
A bright beam of light cut through the fog. It was only a pinhole, but it was enough to spur Bastian to climb faster. He was close. The air was drier and he could feel a hint of a breeze brushing wisps of his hair to the side.
Closer now. Only a few more branches until the sun broke through the fog. Bastian shielded his eyes with his hand, hanging onto the trunk with his free arm. Holding on carefully, he shimmied from branch to branch, trying to get to the opposite side of the tree where he could hopefully see Hutton’s Bridge.
His hand grabbed onto a knot in the trunk, his fingers curling around the ageless bark. Then he felt it. Flesh.
Bastian tore his eyes away from the forest and looked up at the trunk. A hollow, the size of a human gaped in the trunk. But it wasn’t empty. Gnarled within the tree was a woman. Alive or dead, he couldn’t discern.
He snatched his fingers away from her toes. At first he’d thought they were knots. He climbed a little higher on a branch, one that looked sturdy enough to hold his weight. To be safe, he balanced against another branch, taking care not to put too much pressure on either.
Bastian took a deep breath. The woman in the tree didn’t acknowledge him. Her wrinkled eyes remained closed, forever locked in a dance between life and death. Her heart pounded in her transparent chest. A faint red glow emanated from her heart where it still beat out a slow, even rhythm. If Bastian squinted, he could almost see the forest moving along with her, as if her heart kept it alive.
And maybe it did.
“What kind of magic is this?” He’d seen enough to know he had to suspend disbelief. Hutton’s Bridge had exposed him to nothing more than stories. Everything he’d seen had proved there was far more out here than he’d ever suspected.
Her skin was shriveled with age. Her wide eyes glowed green. Her mouth contorted in a gasp of terror. She didn’t move, didn’t acknowledge him, yet her naked body continued to pulse with a sappy rhythm.
“What are you?” Bastian reached out, caressing her emaciated cheek.
She didn’t flinch.
If she was connected to the forest, killing her might end the torment of the fog. His people would finally be free from its tyranny. He’d be able to find Tressa. And yet…
Bastian knew now that staying hidden was better than what was out here. At least when they were unprepared. If Tressa made it back to Hutton’s Bridge, if he could join her there, then they could train their people to fight back.
But the woman had done nothing to him. He couldn’t even be sure why she was there or if she had anything to do with the fog. Bastian squeezed the hilt of his sword. The blood pumped in his veins, screaming at him to kill her. The scene before him was unnatural. It reeked of evil magic. Even the tree no longer smelled of dew and earth. There was a stench of rot in the air, tickling at his nose, threatening to climb down the back of his throat and gag him.
“No.” He said it to himself. A glance out of the corner of his eye assured him. She still didn’t acknowledge him. No movement. No life, despite the pulsing of her exposed heart.
Bastian turned his back on her and gazed out into the forest. He forced himself to focus on finding Hutton’s Bridge.
It didn’t take long. His eyes skimmed the tops of the trees, honing in on a wall of fog in the distance. It rose into the sky, higher than he could see. He craned his neck upward, careful to maintain his balance on the tree branches.
It appeared there was no end. The tendrils stretched on forever.
A black crow cawed in the distance. A rustle in the tree behind him snatched his attention from the sky. The branches crisscrossing the woman’s chest curled away from her body. Her limbs moved in a smooth motion as she stepped away from the hollow.
Bastian scuttled farther out on the branches. They dipped dangerously low, threatening to snap and send him spiraling to the ground. He didn’t care. He wouldn’t get an inch closer to the naked woman emerging from the womb of the tree.