hasn’t done in a long time. What I wouldn’t give to have my parents still alive, for my mother to have trained me to use my magic instead of just forcing me to hide it.
I look down to my hands. There’s no longer the dance of magic over my dark fingers, which isn’t right. It should flare in these woods, as I am still open to detecting enchantments.
Magic can burn, Mother would tell me. Not just the witches or victims, but what’s nearby as well.
I sweep my gaze across the landscape once more, up and down the charred trees, following the upward slant of the earth, and finally across to where we’re keeping the path as far from us as possible. The woods are darker there, almost greener, and I take several steps toward it for a better look.
Someone grabs my arms and tugs me back, pausing me on my feet. “You told us to steer clear of the path,” Stone reminds me.
I don’t look at him, but keep staring at the leaves on the trees back in the direction we came from. “There’s no magic in this section of the woods,” I murmur. “It’s burned, the ground barren. Just look at the path over there.” I point to it. “It’s green and even a wind stirs, while where we stand, it doesn’t reach us, and we’re only what, fifty feet away?”
“Are you sure?” Ragnar asks, his words stretched out almost like he thinks I’m blowing smoke up his ass. He doesn’t believe me.
“Well, when magic is overused in a place for too long, it can physically burn anything it touches. This is an example of the Poisonous Woods not being as strong as many think. Plus, there’s no spark of magic on my fingers. There should be when I’m open to this much power. Magic has a way of igniting anything similar. Think of it as a magnetic pull.”
Crius strolls over to a thick tree. The bark is dark brown in color, and it’s hard to tell if it’s burned or worn. But he tears away a strip of the outer layer with ease, and it simply disintegrates in his hand like dust. The inside trunk is also dark and burnt. Even from where we’re standing several feet away, an acrid smell finds us. It carries an electric stench, just like magic.
When I glance at Ragnar, he’s blinking as he takes in our surroundings, like he’s viewing it for the first time. “So no magic means this is a safe zone.”
“No guarantees, but I’d feel better resting here than over by the path,” I say, not loving the idea of sleeping in these woods at all, but I knew we wouldn’t be able to make this trip in under one day.
“Then we camp here,” Nikos states, and instantly, three of them set on collecting wood for a fire. Ragnar heads over to a small area near a dead log that would be a perfect place to stay. I don’t know how much sleep I’ll get, but being off my feet will be good.
I help collect more branches, as I prefer not to have the blaze go out at all tonight, but not large enough that we accidently set the place on fire. These woods give me the creeps during the day, so I can only imagine night will be ten times worse.
Night comes quicker than any of us expected. The faint crackle of the fire echoes around us, while its flames lick at the darkness crowding in at our backs. “This place is beyond eerie,” I say.
Stone acknowledges me with a blank stare while Ragnar remains deep in thought, sitting with his back to a tree, legs stretched out toward the fire, not seeming to have heard what I said. Crius lounges on the log, legs parted, arms resting against his thighs. In one hand he holds a paring knife, and in the other is a red apple he cuts and eats in slices.
“What do you think would happen if zombies came in here?” he asks. “Not like spells can kill them, so what if they made it all the way to the witches and killed them?”
“Not sure I want to picture that right now, seeing as we are sleeping out in the open,” I respond.
“Are you hatching another scheme?” Nikos asks as he strolls into camp and drops down on his ass in front of the fire, legs bent and arms draped over them.
“Heads up, Narah,” Stone says.
I