Vines slid over Iskra’s body, and a shiver ran up her spine, tightening her throat.

  “She’s waking up…” Marte whispered.

  The vegetal tendrils lowered her gently to the ground as the shapes around her wavered. Marte stood a few steps away, his eyelids half-closed, dark violet shadows pooling beneath his eyes.

  “Are you all right?” he asked.

  “You look exhausted…” she said.

  “I am…”

  He let himself fall onto the couch, his back sinking into the cushions as his shoulders sagged. His arms slid down his thighs before dropping limply at his sides.

  “How long have I been asleep?”

  “Three weeks.”

  “We need to return to the capital. Now.”

  “Not without me. I need rest.”

  She hesitated.

  “You’re the one who healed me?”

  “Yes… but it nearly drained all my strength.”

  “Thank you, Marte.”

  He inclined his head as his eyelids fluttered, then closed them.

  “Rest here. It’s safer than rushing back to the capital. We’ll return in a few weeks.”

  “They might need me there.”

  “I know I won’t be able to convince you, but at least promise me you’ll be careful.”

  “I promise.”

  She pushed the door open and disappeared. At the bottom of the stairs, a young woman was crossing the common room, a stack of plates in her arms. She set them down at the counter, then looked up toward the staircase. Her eyes widened.

  “You’re finally awake,” she said with a smile.

  “Do we know each other?”

  “I’m a friend of Marte’s, and I own this inn.”

  “Thank you for helping me.”

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  “My pleasure. Is he still upstairs?”

  “Yes, he’s resting.”

  “I’m glad to hear that. He barely ate, spent his nights watching over you… His plants drained all his energy.”

  She couldn’t afford to linger on the thought. Time was pressing.

  “Where can I find a horse and something to eat?”

  “I’ll be right back.”

  The innkeeper disappeared into the back of the room. When she returned, she set a bundle of provisions on the counter.

  “The nearest stable is a few streets from here. Follow the main road to the fountain, then take the alley on the right. You’ll see a wooden sign with a horseshoe.”

  “Got it, thank you.”

  Iskra reached into her pocket and pulled out a coin purse.

  “To thank you.”

  The woman smiled and shook her head.

  “That won’t be necessary.”

  “Thank you for everything.”

  She inclined her head and left the inn.

  *****

  After five days on horseback, Iskra reached the outskirts of the castle. Its towers cut against the sky, looming over the city like a stone sentinel, perched atop a sheer escarpment.

  She continued forward, leaving the shops and buildings behind. As she drew closer, the bustle of the city faded into silence. Before the main entrance, massive black iron gates rose up, reinforced with rivets. Rust clung to the hinges, and heavy bronze rings hung on either side.

  On both sides, soldiers stood with spears in hand. When Iskra slowed, one of them stepped forward.

  The soldier climbed the steps leading to a stone structure. He took a parchment and unrolled it on the table. The ink scratched beneath the quill as he wrote:

  “Iskra is at the castle gates. Awaiting instructions.”

  He rolled the message, tied it to the pigeon’s leg, then released it. The bird rose into the air, soaring toward the upper reaches of the castle.

  Iskra dismounted, her boots striking the ground in a cloud of dust. She tied her mount to a post and headed toward an inn.

  She had barely taken ten steps when a scream tore through the air. She turned down an alley and came to a dead stop.

  Dozens of bodies lay scattered across the street. Their chests gaped open, split apart like overripe fruit, strips of flesh hanging loose.

  Blood seeped between the cobblestones, carving scarlet streams that snaked toward the gutters.

  A man was walking among the corpses. His head was tilted to the side, his glassy gaze drifting over the carnage. His clothes, heavy with blood, clung to his skin.

  Flames burst forth, coiling around Iskra’s fists, and she hurled a fireball. The man ignited, his flesh blackened, and he collapsed. The body convulsed. Beneath the skin, a swelling formed. Then the flesh stretched, and two eyes opened. They slid down along his arm. The corpse straightened, its lips pulling back to reveal a row of yellowed teeth.

  “Missed, little human.”

  Then the body exploded. A cat shot out of the carcass. Bones tore through skin, flinging strips of flesh aside. The feline landed on a rooftop. Its pitch-black fur swallowed the light, while its eyes, two incandescent slits, gleamed. Its tail writhed like a serpent.

  A fireball streaked forward, but the creature had already vanished.

  “Missed,” he sneered.

  Iskra clenched her teeth. The flames around her fingers quivered, faltered, then erupted in a geyser. The cat leapt aside at the last moment.

  “You’re going to burn this whole city to the ground, little idiot,” he laughed.

  Iskra swept her gaze across the surroundings. Flames were already creeping along the rooftops.

  “Damn it.”

  At once, the fire around her fingers died out. The cat’s shadow melted into an alley. A moment later, it was gone.

  Iskra closed her eyes. Flames wrapped around her, lifting her above the city. Her gaze searched the rooftops, the streets, every corner. But there was nothing. He had vanished.

  She descended back to where it had all begun. The mutilated bodies still littered the ground.