When it came to exploring the Maidenwoods, Mira was familiar with its green edges, its flourish of plants and trees circled by fairy rings. She’d touched its border both when she was gathering resources and when she was back at home despite her brother’s insistent warnings. Growing up Mira hadn’t been able to sense anything amiss with the greenery. Even here from the Elnoiran border, the fog that seemed to emanate from its center cast the forest in a silver mist despite the high noon.

She and Magic took advantage of what this side of the Maidenwoods had to offer them, stuffing their bags with berries, extra roots, and savoring the view as light trickled through the thick canopy above them. It was something straight out of a fairytale book, small critters scampering along trees and logs. Mira spotted a blur of legs belonging to a fox or a cat dashing between stalks of leaves. Rodents with large, rounded ears peered at them from behind fallen logs and brown-feathered owls dappled with white along their wings stared down them from tree branches, long curling tails swaying side to side with interest.

And beyond them, far, far off in the distance, a towering ginkgo tree—the Maidenwood tree—their destination. The golden compass, as Daphne had explained to them with far more clarity than she had the previous night. Despite the beauty of it all, Daphne was adamant that they stay vigilant.

Whatever it is you see there, she’d said, is not its true face. The Maidenwoods is a horror brought to life. It used to be all greens and animals. Now … Now you’re lucky if you can catch sight of a deer.

Mira had thought she was exaggerating. Surely, she had to have been. What forest could hold such beauty in it and be so terrifying at the same time?

But as their trek brought them closer to the center of the woodlands, the serenity of the mist-filled forest gave way to ominous chills.

Here, the Maidenwoods were devoid of life, the essence sucked dry from the land—the fog was thicker and seeing more than five feet ahead was nearly impossible. Had Magic not been standing beside her, Mira was certain she would have lost him in the mist.

The earth was so desolate and so bare, it was hard for her to imagine that the Maidenwoods was beaming with life mere moments before. The fog coated everything in monochrome and dull, faded purples. Even the ground lost its earthy hue, ashen and dull and dressed with only dying, tall blades of brittle grass.

Whatever trees remained looked like they’d been sucked dry, leaving only a corpse behind, the branches raised in silent prayer, chests carved hollow by woodpeckers or other tree-dwelling animals. Bark peeled in curls away from the trunks and not a single bud dared spring to life on its branches.

Listen for the call of the water, Mira reminded herself. Those were the instructions Daphne had given them moments before the two of them left. The Maidenwood tree stands sentinel on an island. On its trunk, you’ll find its compass.

With a deep breath, Mira could only hope that the journey wouldn’t take them long.

Somewhere above, a bird shrieked; she shrieked and Magic, who had been silently muttering some kind of prayer to himself, screamed and cowered behind her as the creature swooped in front of them, cawing.

“Mags,” Mira said as her jacket sleeve tightened on her arm, “you okay?”

Her sleeve continued to crunch in his grip. “I don’t want to be here,” he replied.

“I know you don’t. I don’t want to be either.”

“I hate this place.”

“Because it’s creepy? Or because of what we might find here?”

“Yes.”

Mira hoisted her duffle bag higher on her shoulders, reaching over to hold onto Magic’s jacket sleeve. “As long as we don’t lose sight of each other or the tree, then I think we’ll be okay. We just have to listen for the—”

Another cry howled from farther in the woods. It sounded like a dying animal, its wails lasting for several, agonizing seconds before it died out as suddenly as it appeared. Magic’s whimpering slowly replaced it and his grip on her tightened—Mira didn’t think his knuckles were capable of getting any whiter than they already were. “Stars,” he muttered, “what the hell was that?!”

Mira found her feet rooted to the ground. As much as she wanted to continue down the path laid out for them, finding the courage to was far easier said than done. It was like being in a horror film, walking towards the killer in the room. “I don’t know,” was all she could say, but she knew Magic was expecting more out of her by the silence that followed, so Mira forced herself to continue. “I can tell you what, though, it didn’t sound human.”

“Demon?” Magic suggested.

“I don’t know. Only that we … we have to keep going.”

“Towards the sound?”

Mira tried to ignore the squeak in his pitch. “Towards the sound. We can’t risk changing direction or we risk losing sight of the tree.”

Magic lifted his head, slowly releasing his hold on her jacket to wipe his hands along the edges of his own. “Right …”

“On the bright side, it’s gotten a bit larger since the last time I paid attention to it. I know you don’t want anything to do with this forest, but just try and have some faith in me, Mags.”

“Mira, each time you say that to me, I find it harder to do considering how most of your plans turn out.”

Mira pouted. She didn’t want to agree with him; there was far too much pride for her to lose if she did. But given their current position in a forest that looked like it had been dead for centuries on end, Magic had a point. And for all her bravado, even Mira had a hard time finding faith in her own words.

Who was she to say she knew what they were doing or where they were doing? What reason did either of them really have to trust Daphne, who could have sent them straight into the jaws of the Beast like naïve lambs for slaughter?

In the end, Magic had no reason to trust Mira’s ideas. Not when those same ideas had brought them here.

Still, they couldn’t think that way. They had already gotten this far.

Instead of conjuring an excuse or another new plan, Mira looked to her brother and held her hand out. Magic eyed her hesitantly, hazel and green eyes wide, ambivalent. Soon, he relented and tentatively placed his hand against hers; the rough, jagged base of his palm stiffly pressed against hers. A tiny tremor made his wrist flick and, despite his discomfort, Mira could hear his breathing ease. “We’ll make it out of here. No matter what that takes.”

“After that?” Magic asked.

“Well, after we survive this, we can splurge with some of our money on food. I think surviving a near death encounter like this is a good enough reason to spend money.”

Her brother laughed, dry and flat as he took his hand away. “Fine. So long as we don’t do something like this ever again.”

“You know me. No promises.”

“No. Of course not.”

Their continued trek through the Maidenwoods filled them both with silent terror; the ginkgo tree became harder to see through the dense blanket of lavender fog, sending a jolt of fear through Mira. She and Magic ducked beneath low hanging branches and snapped the brittle ones impeding their path, the noise startling a bird that in turn startled them. The trees were stacked close to one another as they navigated the forest, leaving little room for walking. They stayed in front of one another majority of the time, swapping leadership positions whenever one got too frightened to lead.

To Mira’s dismay, she was often leading. Magic started at the barest flutter of wings, the slightest rustle of branches which sent him cowering behind Mira like a frightened child. In all honesty, it reminded her a lot of how things used to be when they were younger, when Magic would cling to the back of her shirt and hide as older, taller kids passed them on the street.

It was almost like he’d forgotten that he was carrying a knife in his jacket pocket.

A small breeze rustled the dead branches, tilting some decaying trunks to the side as something jangled and clattered to the ground.

Mira and Magic screamed; Magic nearly bolted and Mira had to snag him by the back of his collar to ensure he stayed put. They stayed like that, heaving breaths of air until the fear petered out and made way for sense. When the initial shock wore off and Mira felt a little bit more confident in her limbs, she motioned for Magic to follow her towards the noise.

She crouched and picked up the source: an old, leather wallet with several years of wear on it. The color of the material was faded and had a multitude of scratches on it that probably came from sharing the same pocket space as a set of house keys. Aside from that, it was pristine—nothing was torn or ripped or loose and the stitching that kept its compartments together was intact.

Mira waved it up and down, trying to find the noise from before and upon shaking it, found the true source of its song: zirca coins. Without a word, she motioned for Magic to cup his hands and she poured the loose change into her brother’s possession, each coin a thorn’s prick to her heart.

Once the wallet was cleaned out, Mira turned the object around in her hands and investigated the contents further while Magic pocketed the coins to her left. Among the contents was an ID card which she removed and took a good look at.

The man staring back at her in a black-and-white picture had to have been in his late forties—probably not too much older than her father—with a rounded face, dark eyes that might have been brown had the image been in color, hair flipped to one side similar in shade to his eyes, a wide smile and a scruffy beard that reached to just below his ears.

Theodore Balaskin, the ID read. Born ZZ89.

Mira felt her blood turn to ice.

The double letter years were over fifty years ago.

She turned the ID over and found two additional names on the back: Jessica Balaskin and Marilee Balaskin. Which, in Mira’s experience from when she observed her father hand in his ID card for confirmation, only meant one thing.

Next-of-kin.

The cold settled in her bones and she turned to inform Magic of her findings.

But he was gone.

Mira was alone, stranded, and her heart skipped several beats as she looked from left to right, desperate for any glimpse of her brother.

He’d been right beside her. So where the fuck did he go?

“Magic!” she hissed, trying to listen for a response through the ringing in her ears. “Mags! Where did you go?”

“Over here,” came his response, small and fearful, which wasn’t entirely new, but it was the way his words wavered that made Mira worry. By the time she found him, only a few feet away, he was standing rigid and straight in front of a peeling, bulky tree trunk, the knife unsheathed in his left hand. “I thought—I thought I saw something and I went to go … and look at it …” He swallowed hard, motioning up with his right hand. “Mirabellis … look around you …”

Mira lifted her gaze up.

Fear morphed to a nauseous kind of horror.

On the surroundings trees were small shoes—no, children’s shoes—suspended on thin branches, dangling by the heels. They rocked from side to side, carried by an eerie breeze. Mira nearly vomited counting the number of footwear ornaments around them, whispering to herself as she did. Five, twenty, fifty, seventy or more shoes—none of which were paired—danced in the wind like leaves in an assortment of styles, sizes, and colors. Some were noticeably faded from the effects of time and others glinted grimly with novelty. The styles ranged from closed toed sneakers to summer sandals and all of the footwear looked like they belonged to children ranging in age, but no younger than five or four.

“Holy shit …” she murmured, as Magic pressed his knuckles to his mouth, trying to hold his own sickness at bay.

Where might these children have been going when they strayed too far into the woods and got lost? Or had they heard a phantom of a voice that enticed them to the Beast’s den?

And how many other trees will we see like this? Mira wondered to herself.

This time, not even she could blame her brother’s fear on cowardice. The sight had shaken her, too. Each of these shoes was enough to tell a story, and none of those stories had a happy ending.

But if they focused on this, they’d never reach their destination. They just had to keep going.

* * *

The density of the fog left them with little direction and the screeching of birds and other animals did nothing to make the trip more pleasant.

It felt like the clouds and hoards of animals were purposefully designed to keep them away from the Maidenwood tree—and if that were the case, it was certainly successful. Mira could have sworn they’d been walking in circles as they continued to pass trees decorated with shoes but it was the sight of new animals and the variety of other mementos like watches or chains that convinced her otherwise.

The occasional vulture glared down at them with eyes as black as scrying boards, their reflections staring back at them. Rodents scurrying across their feet, scaring them into knocking into trees which wobbled and tipped over, their lack of strong roots unable to keep them grounded.

Sometimes they found plushies hidden in tree knots, the fur of the animals matted with dirt, their button eyes missing with stuffing bursting through the seams. Small radios and keychains dangled from the branches, mounted on the rotting wood like a collection of trophies put on display.

What had put them there—man or beast—Mira didn’t know and didn’t want to know, although she figured she already knew the answer. She could have gone her whole life without knowing that there was a rampaging creature in the woods that collected items from its victims and publically gloated about their deaths.

Mira took to examining the items as she and Magic walked arm in arm, desperate to keep the other close and within eyesight. A few of these, if she’d pocketed them, might make for good money. It felt wrong, taking items from people long dead, but it wasn’t like the dead could come back and haunt her.

At least, she hoped not.

She reached a hand out, grazing a gold locket with her fingers, when Magic pulled her away. “Don’t.”

“Why not?” she whispered. “No one is going to come back and get this.”

“And that makes it right for us to take it?”

Mira flailed her arm free of her brother’s grip and approached the tree, cupping the memento in her palms as though she were carrying water. “It doesn’t, but do you have any idea how much money this could sell for? It could help us.”

Magic gave a small flick of his fingers like he was shaking water away from his skin. In the mist’s distorted light, he could have passed for a specter, barely visible from the “other side.” Assuming there even was one. Beyond that, her brother looked annoyed, a tightness in his face and shoulders that made her think he was holding something back. “It isn’t ours,” he said through gritted teeth. “Leave it there.”

“Why? No one is coming back for this, Magic.” She ran her fingers over the clasp of the locket, picking at the latch with her nails. “What if there’s something in it that can help us?”

“That’s not the point.”

She didn’t like the warning in his tone, the gruff whisper to layer false confidence over fear.

“Put it back,” continued her brother. “Leave it.”

“Tell me why, then.” Mira was facing him now, watching his facade crack in an instant, the fear that his eyes were so incapable of hiding. “Tell me why, and I will.”

A muscle in Magic’s jaw twitched. He placed a hand tentatively on the bridge of his glasses. “Not all of the dead sleep peacefully, Mirabellis,” he said, his voice a wisp of breath. “Most do. Not all—certainly not those who died a tragic death. These people … they didn’t die mercifully. My mom used to tell me growing up on anniversary days that they didn’t disturb the miners because …” Magic paused, took a breath, looked up. “Because they didn’t want to further disturb their untimely rest.” His eyes made frantic laps around the forest, anywhere to avoid making eye contact with her. “That’s how ghosts are made.”

Guilt seeped its way in. “Is that another one of the stories Amelia used to tell you?” Mira said.

Magic shook his head, giving an exasperated sigh. “No, they’re not just stories, Mira.” He walked around in a circle, brushing his long black hair into a ponytail behind his head before letting the strands fall back over his shoulders. “Stars, you can’t tell me that when we’re standing in a graveyard full of proof. A centuries old graveyard. Believe me or don’t, but don’t come to me when something starts chasing you. I said my piece.”

The author's content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

Mira felt her mouth twist. It took everything in her not to deny him outright. Hell, she wanted to but she couldn’t betray her eyes. Not when she’d seen this. Not when she’d bore witness to the untimely deaths of children to embolden a monster’s pride. Her fingers lingered on the locket and she gave it another look over. It was a simple thing, made of polished gold, emblazoned with a symbol that reminded her of a coiled snake.

She slid it off the branch and placed it into her coat pocket.

Magic rolled his eyes and didn’t say a word, but she could tell he was considering a very colorful speech in his head before he held out his arm and muttered, “Let’s keep moving.”

* * *

The sound of running water was music to Mira’s ears.

She could forgive the murky tiny and grimy feel of the water against her hand as she swept it lazily in the current. Beyond the river lay the little island and, mounted in the middle of it was the gargantuan trunk of the Maidenwood tree, small golden leaves fluttering down to the dusty ground.

Compared to its surroundings, the tree titan was brimming with life, its trunk a deep silvery hue that faded to a more chalky white on the way up its long, thin branches adorned with leaves that seemed to shift in color in the fog. From some angles, they were gold. From others, they were red, bronze, orange, a mixture of all three, a sunburst. It was a majestic piece of life in a landscape where there was none.

Mira knelt by the riverbed and let the water run through the gaps between her fingers. She found herself fascinated not only by its warmth, which was reassuring against the chill of the woods, but by the fact that this was what running water sounded like. Chrome, landlocked as it was, never had running water in the form of creeks or rivers. Mira was lucky to see rain a few times a month as it was. And she might have admired this all more if she and her brother weren’t trying to make a hasty exit from the Maidenwoods alive.

Magic laid down on his stomach beside her, rolling up his coat and shirt sleeve before sticking his bony arm into the water. It went up past his elbow, lapping at his biceps as he waved his limb around uselessly, trying to reach further. “I can’t feel the bottom.”

“Which means that, at least, it’s knee deep,” offered Mira.

“And at most,” suggested Magic, “it could be deeper than the two of us stacked on each other’s shoulders.”

Mira shot her brother a look. “I don’t think rivers go that far down. They’re supposed to be at least waist-deep.”

“Looks more like a bottomless pit to me.”

She rolled her eyes, pushing to her feet and using her brother’s shoulder as leverage. He swatted at her with his free hand and sat up on his knees as she spoke. “That’s only because you can’t see the bottom of it.”

Magic sat back on his haunches before plopping down on the ground, one leg outstretched, the other bent at the knee. “So what do we do from here?”

Mira shrugged, directing her focus to the tree in the center of the moat. “Would be easier if we had a bridge to cross or a boat to kind of float across.”

“The trees are just dead enough here,” said her brother. “They could work, but I’m … not sure we should use those.”

“Why not?”

“Look at this place, Mira—and before you start rolling your eyes at me, really look around. I’m almost certain that if we did, the Beast would kill us if we laid so much as a knife’s point against the tree trunks.”

A shiver went down her spine, and it wasn’t from the cold. “How do you figure, Mags?”

“Because. If the Beast truly does live here to protect the Maidenwoods, I’d be pretty pissed if my home got damaged, too.”

But Mira didn’t think that was the case. Not when there were so many trophies stolen from past victims scattered along the trees—dead trees. It didn’t sit right with her that a so-called protector of the land would continue to live in such a barren wasteland. If anything, wouldn’t it try to restore the destruction before it spread? Wasn’t that what guardians were supposed to do? Protect? Serve?

A laugh almost made its way out of her throat.

The more Mira thought about it, the more absurd it was. “These woods were damned a long time ago, Mags. If one of those Spectacles wanted it fixed, don’t you think it would’ve been done by now?”

He only shrugged as he pushed to his feet. “Fine. What bright idea do you have, then?”

“You said the trees were dead enough to push over. We can tie them together with the mangleroot in our bags and make a long bridge with them to walk across the moat.”

If her brother was displeased or otherwise annoyed by her plan, it didn’t show. He just kept a mask of complete indifference, the only thing breaking through it being the exasperated huff through his nose as he turned around and walked off. Mira followed close behind and together they surveyed trees that could best be used for a bridge, trying to ignore the screams and calls of animals in the forest that carried like echoes in their direction.

Mira knocked on the trunks of hollow trees—some of them filled with old trophies that she placed into her pockets when Magic wasn’t looking—and pushed them over with little effort. Magic sliced at the dead branches and leftover roots with his knife and pulled the trunks toward the moat once they were freed from the brittle dirt. They repeated this process until the bridge had significant width and length: two trees wide, three trees tall but with sturdy enough bark to withstand their weight.

Magic made notches in the dead trees to weave the mangleroot through to keep the bridge stable. Only when he was satisfied—which took an irritating ten minutes; Mira counted using a watch she’d stolen—did he push the tree bridge into the moat.

It didn’t reach all the way; there was a gap at the very end between the trees and the island in the middle, but it would do.

Mira crossed first, carrying both of their duffle bags while Magic held the bridge steady. She hadn’t wanted to cross with the added luggage, but if anyone was going to make it across with added weight, it would be her. As a kid, Mira had spent countless hours learning to climb the little trees they had in Chrome, conquering flagpoles and rooftops not long after she figured out how to best place her hands and feet. Magic often joked with her that she learned to climb before she learned to walk, which Mira always assumed wasn’t entirely inaccurate.

Climbing was as natural as walking or breathing.

The tree bridge was like anything she’d navigated and balanced on in her youth.

Halfway through, the bark groaned. One log turned, causing her to stumble. Magic was calling her name, but she couldn’t make out the rest of what he was saying through the calm gurgling of the water and her pulse in her ears. The uneven weight from the bags wasn’t helping and Mira slowly lowered herself to better control her sense of balance.

She crept along the bridge as the Maidenwood tree got closer—and larger. From a distance, Mira had assumed it to be like any other tall tree she could see from the rooftops of Chrome. In fact, Mira had seen the Maidenwood tree a few times during her nighttime escapades along the roofs of Chrome, but from a distance it always looked so … small. Not a grand behemoth of a structure.

Pausing just before the edge of the bridge, Mira stalled for time by tossing the duffle bags onto the island, taking in the sight of it all. Between awe and fascination, there was something else wedged between them. And she didn’t know what it was. Only that it felt wrong like everything else in this forsaken wood.

Mira leapt from the edge of the bridge, tucking and rolling to ensure her own safety. It was rough; the ground here was less forgiving and the hard pebbles in the soil jabbed at the exposed parts of her skin. She shook herself off, dusted off her limbs, and turned to find Magic gaping at her from the other side of the river.

She beckoned him with a hand. “C’mon, Mags!” she called. “You’re clear to cross!”

“I can’t do that,” he said.

“No, don’t start, Magic. Don’t you dare chicken out on me; you were on board not even five minutes ago!”

“That was before I watched you nearly fall on the way over.”

“What if you kicked your way here?” Mira suggested.

“Kicked?” he asked.

“Yeah. Treat it like a float.” Magic wrung his hands, looking everywhere except in her direction. Mira took a breath. “Focus, Mags!” she shouted. “Look at me. Focus this way, grab the trees and kick through the water.”

She watched him take several long breaths, probably an attempt to calm himself down and climb onto the deadwood raft.

Or, at the very least, attempt to.

Magic yelped each time the trees moved and recoiled when he got too close to the water. At this rate, he wasn’t going to make it anywhere and Mira had to resist the urge to chuck something at him out of sheer annoyance. “Talk to me, Mags,” she said, helplessly watching him flounder. “What’s going on?”

He was gripping the ends of the float, eyes permanently trained down at the water’s unforgiving void. His voice was shrill, layered with several tiers of terror. “I can’t—Mira, I don’t know how to swim.”

“I don’t either, Mags, it’s fine!”

“No, it’s not fine! You can climb and hold your balance and be done with it and I—I don’t—”

No, he couldn’t afford to panic now. Neither of them could. Not when they were trespassing on a monster’s land and certainly not when they had to cross the river a second time. “Magic, focus this way or focus on the tree! You’re not gonna fall in the water! Just hug the middle and kick! I’ll grab it once it’s here and then you can climb your way to the island!”

She could hear the small whine carrying from one side of the river to the other as Magic slowly but surely leaned onto the dead trees, gripping the curved edges with more force than was strictly necessary. With bated breath, Mira saw him push away from the riverbank and sat at the edge of the water, small drops from the river jumping onto her shoes and pants.

Hands outstretched, she waited for the bridge to make its way over to her, but her eyes flicked upwards at the sound of a struggle. Magic’s added weight at the end of the bridge was tilting the dead trees upward. In a panic, Mira waded into the water, shoes slipping against a slope of mud. Before she could get far enough, Mira watched in horror as the trees capsized, silencing Magic as he went down with them.

Mira didn’t think she was capable of screaming herself hoarse until the noise came out of her mouth. She made it a few more feet into the water, scrambling against the soft earth and recoiling as little leaves brushed her ankle. The dead tree bridge bobbed back and forth, making its way downstream.

“Mags?”

Mira had meant it to be louder, but her nerves wouldn’t allow it. It came out as a whisper, a plea. A whimper. Tentatively, she swept her outstretched hand along the water, wincing. “Magic?”

There was no way the river was deep enough to swallow him whole. It couldn’t have been. Or could it? Mira didn’t know what a river looked like outside of a photo until today. How was she to know what laid beneath its depths?

They should’ve found a better way to cross. An easier way.

She waited. And waited. Her eyes, trained on the spot where her brother disappeared, flicked towards the sudden appearance of bubbles. Mira held her breath, biting into her tongue to keep herself grounded. After a while, she started tasting blood and moved to gnawing her lip.

Something—a hand; Magic’s hand—breached the water’s surface, the crash of it jolting Mira from her head. Her brother kicked and thrashed, the splashing water startling a group of birds perched in the Maidenwood tree. Even Mira started, but she took a tiny step forward, one hand in front of her. “Magic!” she screamed. “This way! Turn around!”

Magic sputtered and coughed, whipping to face her. To her surprise, he rose a little higher and trudged towards her, struggling a little against the lazy current. His coat and shirt were soaked all the way through, water dripping in quick succession from his sleeves. His hair was flat against his skull and the glasses on his face were tilted and speckled with freshwater. Mira could hardly see his eyes.

Once he was close enough, gasping and struggling for air, Magic shook his head. “Torso,” he wheezed, taking Mira’s hand. “Up to my torso. I felt it. The ground. Hit my shoul—”

She didn’t give him the chance to finish. Mira tugged him out of the water safely onto shore, rose up on her toes, and hugged him. Magic stiffened as her arms wrapped around his neck, her hold wavering a little with her balance. The scent of stale water was heavy on his skin, along with something that reminded her vaguely of horse hair.

Mira felt him shaking—out of fear, the cold, or his general dislike of contact, she couldn’t tell. It could have been all three for all she knew, but she didn’t care for the details. All she cared about was that he was safe. They were both safe, and she gripped the back of his coat to steady herself, fearful she’d lose him again if she let go. “You scared the shit out of me.”

“Sorry,” he mumbled. “Please don’t make me do that again.”

“I won’t. Besides, we know how deep it is now. We can just walk through it this time. And then, once we’re out, we can get something warm. Like better clothes—more for you than me.”

Magic laughed, low and humorless. He stepped away and held his coat open as if to better examine his apparel like he didn’t just come wading out of a murky river looking like a drenched rat. His gray shirt was sticking to his skin and he looked how he truly was: thin, frail, and far smaller than he made himself out to be with the baggy set of his coat.

They grabbed their duffles on their way towards the base of the Maidenwood tree; standing behind it, Mira felt tiny. Even Magic, who was taller than her, looked small against the trunk of the tree. It was nearly impossible to figure out how tall it was. Mira almost fell over trying to look at it all: a living, breathing giant in a garden full of corpses, as though it were sucking in the life around it through its roots.

Its leaves rustled together, swayed by a breeze as Mira placed a hand to the bark, dragging her fingers along its ridges. The bark was unlike the other trees. It was not brittle. It was not damaged. It did not whittle away to dust as she swept her hand across it. This tree was youthful, brimming with early life. Even the leaves looked like they were shot through with gold, sparkling in the scattered light from the fog, which seemed to dissipate around the foliage, as though it were being repelled.

Mira could see the sky from where she stood, bright blue against white clouds. Above the Maidenwood, there was no mist. It had simply disappeared.

And if she hadn’t been so entranced by the tree’s existence, focused and calmed by its presence, Mira would have missed what sounded like a low growl. Repeating the same word over and over again.

Child.

She froze.

You do not belong here, Star Child.

“Magic,” she called as her brother began circling the tree’s base with an energy she hadn’t seen from him in years. “Did you say something?”

Magic poked his head out from the side of the tree. “What?”

“Did you say something?” she repeated.

Traitor, snarled the voice.

He shook his head. “No, but come over here for a second. I wanna show you something.”

Mira shuddered and brushed at her shoulders, hoisting the bag higher on her shoulder. She followed him around the trunk of the tree, focusing hard on his words. The more Magic could talk and fill the air with chatter she knew she wouldn’t understand, the better. Anything to drown out the one-sided noise of the forest.

“I found something,” her brother said, tracing a carved outline with a finger. Mira watched him drag the pad of his thumb along the ridged drawing in the tree’s bark, deep and out of place like a healed wound. It was an odd thing, a monster with a sail on its back. Two protrusions jutted out from its face resembling a set of horns and, curled at the creature’s four, pointed feet, was a sharp tail, one edge resembling a knife.

Mira took out the locket from her coat pocket, holding it up against the image on the tree. Magic frowned and opened his mouth to berate her, but the scolding never came. Something in his features shifted from one of annoyance to sparkling curiosity, then to recognition. “I saw that before. At the bottom of the tree.”

He raced off before she could ask him to explain, a giddy child indulging in a riddle, circling the trunk. Mira followed him twice before stopping at the carving on the bark that best resembled the one on her stolen locket: the snake-like creature with a crown on its head and two deadly fangs extending from its open jaw.

Magic patted the tree, standing in the direction from which they arrived. “Daphne said we’d find the compass on the Maidenwood, right? Come take a look at this side.”

“I’ve looked at all the sides, Mags—” she started.

“No, you’ve seen them. Not the same as looking—just humor me a little.”

Mira did as she was told, ignoring a new resurgence of the voice—Little Star—as she stood by her brother’s side. He was tapping the carved image of a bird in flight. It reminded her a lot of the picture on his switchblade and, as if on cue, Magic took the blade from his pocket and held it up to the carving on the tree.

A nearly mirrored image.

Mira couldn’t hide her surprise.

“Where is Droidell on a map, Mira?” asked Magic.

Go home, Little Star.

Mira hid her wince with a twitch of her jaw. “Bold of you to assume I can remember a map,” she murmured.

Magic scowled, pushing his glasses higher up his nose. “What coast are we on?”

“The west one.”

“Yeah. Ori is the only one of the five animals that I can remember hearing about in our region from stories. Mom was only ever able to find hers.”

“Which makes Ori a symbol of the west?”

Magic’s face lit up in a grin, every feature of him animated. Mira had only ever seen him get like this whenever he’d spoken to her about the mythical bird growing up. She never remembered understanding any of it, only that it was one of the few times she would ever see him so much as smile. After his father died, Mira indulged him in the stories less for the mythology and more just to see him happy.

Now she found herself wishing that she’d paid attention, too.

“Yeah. And if we’re standing at the western side, then that would mean that this drawing …” He pulled Mira by the jacket to the side of the tree where the shape of a rabbit lay etched in the bark, its large ears nearly twice the size of its body and reared on its hind paws, four prong antlers jutting from its head. “Is the northern drawing. Daphne gave five animals, four of which are points on the ‘compass.’”

Little Star, the voice snarled, a new intensity in its gravelly rumble, but with the sadistic air of being toyed with. It was closer now and rattled like the sound of wind-strewn leaves tapping on a window. Stray little lamb.

Again, Mira flinched, doing her best to ignore it.

And Magic, for all his astute observations, was too enthralled to notice, though Mira desperately wished he would. “Ori for the west, the rabbit for the north, the salamander opposite Ori for the east and the dragon that matches the locket for the south. But Daphne had given us five. The only one that’s missing is the … horse ….”

Mira squinted, watching her brother take a few cautious steps back, his eyes looking her up and down—except he was looking above her, not at her. She was about to glance up, but Magic whistled and stole her attention away. There was a grayness in his skin that made her think he was a few seconds away from fainting.

Again, temptation told her to look up.

Again, Magic whistled sharply for her attention.

If you do not wish to leave …

“Mira,” Magic whispered, “don’t move. Stay there.”

It was then that she realized her brother was reaching into his coat pocket.

The pocket he keeps his switchblade in. “Why?” Mira asked, unsure if she wanted the answer.

Magic’s eyes went to the floor and her gaze followed. A shadow loomed over her, two triangular shapes flicking inward from the blob. Before she could register the creature looming over her as a horse, something cool slithered around her ear with the slimy, cold consistency of a raw egg. It slid down her neck, her arms, hands, coolness seeping through the fabrics of her jacket before it entwined with her fingers on both hands. She shuddered when it touched skin.

… then you will remain here.

The sensation returned, nestling inside her ears, thin like a strand of stray string.

Static filled her head, a dull, droning noise.

Caught in a web of horror, Mira only registered Magic’s mouth moving, the words he was saying completely inaudible. Her feet were rooted to the spot and no matter how much her heart pounded, how much her nerves screamed, how much she sobbed, they remained in place. Mira wanted to run. She wanted to go home. She wanted—

“Bella,” said a new voice, calm and sweet.

No.

No, that couldn’t be.

She was dead.

And still …

“Mom?” she mumbled.

Mira couldn’t register anything else. Her surroundings morphed into dull, white noise, numb static against her ears. Someone else was shouting in her direction, familiar and close. For a brief moment, worry spiked in her chest, but then the sweet voice appeared again and her body relaxed.