Chapter Nine: Shadowvale

Dawn came too soon. The first slivers of sunlight cut through the treetops, spilling over the campsite like liquid gold. I hadn’t slept—not even for a second. My mind was still tangled in the Wicked’s voice, in that final echo that refused to die down. Outside, I could hear Charlie stirring, muttering something to Snow as they packed up the tents. Their voices were faint, muffled, like the world was moving without me. I sat up slowly, rubbing the exhaustion from my face, though it did nothing to dull the weight in my chest.

When I finally stepped out, the air hit me—crisp, cold, and biting with the promise of another long day. Charlie looked up from his saddle, offering a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. Snow’s gaze lingered on me for a moment longer than usual, studying me, like she could see the storm building behind my ribs.

“Rough night?” she asked softly.

I swallowed hard, forcing a weak smirk. “You could say that.”

She nodded once, but her eyes said she knew better.

As I mounted Wiz, I glanced toward the horizon where the path to the Shadowvale disappeared into the fog. The air tasted heavy—like the world itself knew what was waiting out there. And for the first time, I wondered if

the Wicked was right. Maybe it wouldn’t be him I was fighting at all.

Snow swung herself gracefully onto her horse, her white cloak catching the morning light like a blade. Charlie followed, tightening his reins as Prince pawed at the ground, restless and eager to move. Wiz tossed his mane beside them, exhaling a sharp snort that misted in the cool air.

“If the weather—and the horses—decide to favor us,” Snow said, her tone calm but measured, “we should reach Shadowvale by nightfall.”

With that, she urged her mount forward. The rhythmic thud of hooves filled the silence as we fell into formation, the world around us blurring into a wash of forest green and gray morning mist. My mind, though, was somewhere else—stuck in the echo of the Wicked’s voice, trapped in the memory of red smoke and reflection. Every word replayed in my head like a curse I couldn’t shake. I wanted to turn back, to find safety in the familiar, to stop pretending I was ready for what lay ahead. But deep beneath the fear—beneath the uncertainty and the exhaustion—something else stirred. A pull. A thrill. The dangerous, almost intoxicating hunger to know what Fate had written for me… even if it destroyed me in the process.

The deeper we rode into the valley, the more the world seemed to shift around us. The sun dimmed behind a curtain of thick clouds, turning the once-bright day into a hazy twilight. The air grew heavier, colder—each breath a ghost against my lips. Trees twisted unnaturally, their branches reaching across the path like fingers desperate to catch hold of us. Even the horses grew uneasy, their ears flicking, muscles twitching beneath their saddles.

Charlie broke the silence first. “You feel that?” His voice was low, like speaking too loud would wake something sleeping nearby.

“Yeah,” I said, my hand tightening on the reins. “It’s like the whole place is watching.”

Snow’s head turned slightly, her gaze scanning the trees. “That’s because it is. Shadowvale doesn’t welcome visitors—it studies them. Judges them.”

A chill crawled down my spine. I glanced at the horizon ahead, where the mountains carved jagged lines against the darkening sky. A faint glow pulsed there, red and distant, like a heartbeat. And in the back of my mind, a whisper echoed—the Wicked’s voice, soft and knowing.

It won’t be me you’ll face.

I swallowed hard, eyes fixed on that distant crimson light.

Whatever waited for us in Shadowvale, it already knew I was coming.

Ahead, the air rippled with an unsettling hum—a low, pulsing darkness that seemed to breathe with the land itself. Each throb of it tightened my chest, as if the valley was drawing the air straight from my lungs. The closer we got, the more the horses shifted and snorted, their nerves mirroring my own.

“They know,” I murmured under my breath, resting a steadying hand on Wiz’s trembling neck. His muscles twitched beneath my palm, and for a moment, I could feel his heartbeat hammering as fast as mine. “Easy, boy. We’re almost there.”

He let out a shaky breath, the sound almost human, and his trembling eased—just barely. The others weren’t as lucky. Excalibur tossed his head and stamped hard against the dirt, while Prince refused to move another step.

Snow clicked her tongue and urged Excalibur forward anyway, her grip tight on the reins. “He trusts you,” she said quietly, her voice carrying a strange weight as her eyes flicked to me and Wiz.

I forced a dry laugh, still stroking the horse’s mane. “Still not sure if that’s a good thing or not.”

But even as the joke left my lips, I couldn’t shake the feeling that Wiz wasn’t the only one putting his faith in the wrong person.

The moment Wiz’s hooves crossed the invisible threshold, the world seemed to exhale—and then hold its breath. The air thickened, turning sharp and metallic, stinging the back of my throat. Shadows bled through the trees, slithering along the ground like living smoke. Every sound—the creak of leather, the stamp of hooves, the rasp of my own breath—felt amplified, as if the valley was listening.

Charlie drew his hood tighter. “This place…” His voice faltered. “It feels wrong.”

Snow’s gaze swept the treeline, her eyes sharp and calculating, though her knuckles whitened around the reins. “That’s because it is wrong. The Shadowvale feeds on what it can take. Fear. Doubt. Blood.”

The last word hung heavy between us. I could almost hear it sink into the soil beneath our feet. Wiz snorted, his ears twitching back, his unease contagious. Then, somewhere deeper in the forest, a sound echoed—low, guttural, and far too close to human to be an animal. My heart seized. The shadows ahead seemed to shift, taking form, moving closer.

“Stay close,” Snow whispered, reaching for the hilt of her blade. “Once you enter, the vale knows your name.”

A chill crawled up my spine, icy fingers tracing the mark hidden beneath my sleeve. It pulsed once, faintly—like it was answering a call.

All of a sudden, a violent tug wrenched through my chest, stealing the breath straight from my lungs. Then came the fire—searing and unrelenting—snaking down my arm like molten metal beneath my skin.

“Gah—shit!” I hissed, doubling over and clutching my arm through the thick folds of my robe. Crimson light pulsed beneath the black fabric, alive and writhing like veins of lava twisting through shadow.

Charlie and Snow whipped their horses around, eyes wide with alarm.

“Carter? What’s going on?” Charlie’s voice cracked as he urged Prince forward, grabbing for my arm. “Are you okay?”

The pulsing grew faster—harder—until I could feel it in my teeth. The darkness ahead of us throbbed in time with it, like it was calling to me, answering the rhythm of whatever was awakening inside my body.

“I’m—fine,” I ground out through clenched teeth, though every word felt like it was tearing itself from my throat.

Sparks of pain shot up my spine, into my skull, until my vision wavered around the edges.

Snow’s sharp voice broke through the haze. “Carter, something’s wrong with you.”

No shit.

The mark beneath my sleeve burned hotter, the light flaring so bright I could see it bleeding through the fabric. I bit back another cry as the world tilted. And through the pain—through the chaos—I felt it.

A whisper. Low. Familiar.

Welcome home.

A deafening crack split the air—thunder rolling so close it felt like the sky itself had shattered. The horses shrieked in panic, hooves tearing into the earth as chaos erupted around us. Wiz reared violently, his eyes wide with terror, and before I could tighten my grip on the reins, he spun.

“Wiz—!”

The world tilted. My feet slipped from the stirrups, and I hit the ground hard, my shoulder slamming into the mud with a sharp, sickening jolt. Pain tore through my arm, white-hot and blinding. I gasped, the wind knocked out of me, and by the time I scrambled to my knees, Wiz was already bolting down the path—his dark form disappearing into sheets of silver rain.

“Carter!” Snow’s voice cut through the storm, shrill and desperate as Excalibur reared beside her. “Don’t—!”

But it was too late. The rain poured in thick, heavy curtains, soaking through my robes and plastering my hair to my forehead. Lightning flashed, painting the world in bursts of violent white.

“I’m going to get him!” I shouted back, the storm swallowing my words as soon as they left my mouth.

“Carter, no!” Snow’s cry echoed, fading into the thunder’s roar.

I was already running. My boots pounded against the slick earth, mud splattering up my legs. The wind howled through the trees like some unearthly warning, but I didn’t stop. Couldn’t.

“Wiz!” I bellowed, my voice cracking as I pushed forward, squinting through the rain that lashed at my face. “WIZ!”

Each flash of lightning illuminated only emptiness ahead—until, in one blinding instant, a shadow moved.

I narrowed my eyes, straining to make out the silhouette in the storm. Another flash of lightning split the sky—searing white against the endless dark—and for a single, blinding second, the world came into focus.

A clearing. Encircled by jagged, towering rocks. And in its center… something alive.

It pulsed in rhythmic beats, black and crimson light radiating from its slick surface. At first, I thought it was a boulder—something ancient, half-buried in the mud. But as the light throbbed harder, almost in sync with the frantic hammering of my own heart, the truth sank in like ice through my veins.

It wasn’t a stone. It was a heart.

The pull inside my chest flared again, stronger this time, dragging me forward as if invisible strings had hooked into my ribs. I fought to hold myself back, but my body moved on its own, boots sinking into the sucking mud with every step.

The rain fell harder, stinging my skin, but I couldn’t tear my gaze away. “What the hell…” I whispered, voice trembling with awe and fear. “…is that?”

The closer I got, the louder it grew—not in sound, but in feeling. Each pulse echoed through my bones, reverberating deep in my chest like it was syncing with my heartbeat. My breath came in shallow gasps as the ground beneath me began to tremble, the rain cascading harder, soaking me to the skin.

Then I heard it. A whisper. So faint, I almost thought it was the wind—until it spoke my name.

Carter…

My blood ran cold. I froze mid-step, every muscle in my body going rigid. The voice came again, this time sharper, hungrier.

You feel it too, don’t you?

The heart pulsed faster, its crimson glow flashing like a warning. I stumbled back, my boots skidding in the mud. “No,” I breathed, shaking my head. “You’re not real!”

A deep, familiar chuckle rolled through the clearing—smooth, haunting.

Still denying yourself, are you? You can’t outrun what you are.

The Wicked’s voice. But he wasn’t here.

My pulse thundered in my ears as I spun around, scanning the shadows. “Show yourself!” I shouted. My voice cracked, half from fear, half from fury.

Lightning struck again—and for a split second, his face flashed in front of me. My face. Smiling.

Welcome home, Carter.

Suddenly, a deafening crack of thunder split the sky, rattling my bones. Before I could react, a violent force slammed into me, hurling me backward into the mud. The world spun, wet and cold against my skin, and then—flashes of blinding light.

Not lightning.

Memories. Fractured, burning, impossible to ignore. My life in foster homes, the laughter and fights with Charlie, the endless journey to this moment—all of it surged at me, raw and unrelenting.

And then…him. The Wicked.

But no. He wasn’t the same. One eye black as the void, the other glowing red like dying embers. His hair, a cascade of midnight tipped with fire, seemed alive, writhing like it fed on the darkness around him. And then the truth struck me with more force than the wind itself.

It wasn’t him.

It was me.