“Lies have no foundation. In a storm, lies will always fall, and truth will always remain standing.”
—Troika
Killian
At last. My “escort” reaches the infamous hills. Mountains, really. Each one has been hollowed out, hordes of birds and prey inside. Outside…
I shudder. The “eyes” belong to creatures I’ve never before encountered. Small of stature with the fangs and the forked tongue of a snake, the shell of a turtle upon their backs—shells that are lined with bony spikes—and the arms and legs of an alligator. But those eyes…they are neon red, watching me as I soar overhead. Abject hunger sharpens the air, made worse by the fetid scent of death saturating every burst of wind.
I watch as another bird flies by and drops an unwitting victim to the creatures. What happens next…
Bile rushes up my throat, threatening to empty my stomach.
The creatures—monsters—react instantly, caught up in a feeding frenzy, biting into the guy, ripping his limbs from his body.
That is what Ten and the others must face. If she’s harmed…
There will be nothing I can do about it. Not until I escape. And I will escape. I must.
The closer we came to our destination, the louder the screams became. Now that we’re here, those screams are deafening. Millions of them clash in terrible disharmony, blending with moans, groans and grunts. My ears ache from the assault.
I drop a leaf on the hill of my carrier’s choosing, though I wish I could keep it. For medicine, yes. But also as a weapon. Something I’ve noticed: the animals and insects bolt away rather than touch the leaves.
Unfortunately, I just discarded my last leaf.
We descend down, down, down into the depths of the mountain. There’s an uncountable amount of tiers—though my sweet Ten will somehow find a way, I’m sure. Upon each tier are equally uncountable nests. Inside most of those nests are skeleton-birds that are feeding on their prey—spirits.
Myriadians I’ve met over the years. Myriadians I’ve watched die. There are others, of course, so many others, but whether they are Myriadian or Unsigned, I’m not sure.
My mother is in one of these mountains. One of these nests. Ten’s mother, too. Aunts, uncles and cousins I never knew. Colleagues I lost in battle.
None of the victims notice me, too lost in their pain. For most, limbs are missing. For some, bones have been picked clean. Torsos are cut open, organs missing, just like the image I saw inside my head. My gaze scans, searching for my mother. She—
I tense as my gaze collides with Sloan. She’s here, trapped inside this mountain. My stomach churns. She’s awake, though pieces of her heart are missing. One of her legs stops at the knee.
She opens her mouth to speak. Or scream. I’m not sure which. Either way, she’s too weak. No sound emerges.
The bird releases me. I tumble through the air before landing in a nest of my own, a single tier down from Sloan. In an instant, thorns stab and snare me. Black vines reach out to wrap around my neck, wrists and ankles, rendering me immobile.
A bird in the nest next to mine spots me, looks at his own meal—a little bit of muscle left on a skull—and decides I’ll make a tastier treat. He hops over, but my captor dives into him, and the two fall from the tier. They plummet down, down, pecking and clawing at each other along the way.
I struggle against my restraints, old wounds bleeding more—faster. New wounds tear open, and weakness sets in. I do not stop. Thoughts of escaping, of doing everything possible to clear the way for Ten, drive me. Those turtle things…how can I force them from the hills?
“Killian.” Sloan’s voice. Weak, thready. “Don’t fight… makes worse…”
Must!
Accepting abuse isn’t in my wheelhouse. But all too soon, my captor returns. Though his skull possesses no eyes, he seems to stare straight at me, and he radiates hate and hunger.
He squawks with triumph at the sky—before using the tip of his beak to slice open my chest cavity and tear off a piece of my heart. The pain! A scream bubbles my throat, but I swallow it back. Screaming is too much like begging.
The bird takes another bite, and another. Not just pain, agony. Darkness closes in…welcome darkness…
I’m not sure how much times passes before my eyelids crack open, consciousness jarring me. One moment I’m blissful, lost in dreams of Ten, the next I’m aware of my throbbing head, and the torment wracking the rest of me. A chorus of sobs.
At first, my surroundings are blurry. Blink, blink. As my vision clears, I look around with dry, burning eyes. My captor is gone. So are all the other birds. A welcome miracle.
I look at my body, distressed by the thought of what I might find. Elation sparks. My limbs are still attached, and bits of my heart remain. I’m only missing a kidney and a section of bowel.
Only. A near hysterical laugh escapes. How sad is it that I’m elated only a kidney and bowel were eaten?
“Killian.”
A weak voice sounds from above me. Lifting my head proves difficult, pulling against the thorns still embedded in my neck, but I do it. My gaze lands on Sloan. She’s leaning out of her nest, her skin ashen, her cheeks sunken.
“You died,” she says, her lip trembling. “How?”
One of her tears splashes on to my forehead. “Long story.” And I’m not sure I have the strength to tell it. “Where are the birds?”
“Yours retched after feeding from you and flew off. Nothing like that has ever happened before, and most of the others followed him.”
I’ve been saved from round two of torture. But for how long?
“I wish I had a way to save you,” she says, her voice breaking as if she’s fighting tears. “No one has ever found a way. Some of these people have been here for decades.”
Decades. Of this. What’s sad is, I’m sure there are millions of spirits who have been here longer.
Will I be one of them?
No way. Ten has never let me down, and she never will.
“We’re going tae be rescued,” I say. “Help is on the way.”
Hope glimmers in her blue eyes. “Ten is coming for us?”
“She is.”
The corners of Sloan’s mouth lift. “If anyone can save us…”
“She can. She will.” I have faith.