Chapter Seven: Shadows

The first thing I noticed when I woke up was the silence. Not the kind that meant peace—but the kind that meant something was off.

The cot below mine was empty. A chill pricked the back of my neck as I sat up and glanced around the dim room. The gray morning light spilled weakly through the shuttered window, painting long stripes across the floorboards. I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and frowned. Carter’s blanket was tossed aside, tangled and cold.

“Carter?” I called softly. No answer.

I swung my legs over the edge of the bed, my bare feet meeting the chill of the wooden floor. The faint smell of smoke from the Wizard’s hearth drifted in from the main room, but beyond that, the world felt still. Too still.

Pulling my robe tighter to keep myself warm, I stepped out into the hall. The Wizard’s hut always felt strange in the daylight—like it wasn’t meant to exist past dawn. Shadows clung to the walls even where sunlight reached. The only sound was the slow, steady tick of something unseen. Snow was already awake, standing near the hearth with a mug of something steaming in her hands. The Wizard sat across from her, eyes half-lidded in thought. Both of them turned when I entered.

“Morning,” I said cautiously. “Have either of you seen Carter?”

Snow shook her head. “Not since last night. He retired when you did, didn’t he?”

“Yeah, I thought he did.” My voice came out more uncertain than I meant it to.

The Wizard’s gaze sharpened. “He’s not in your quarters?”

I shook my head. “No. His cot’s cold.”

For a moment, no one said anything. The silence felt thick enough to choke on. Then Snow set her mug down with a soft clink and crossed the room. “I’ll check the stables.”

Before I could respond, she was gone, her white cloak fluttering behind her like smoke.

The Wizard stood, his robe whispering against the stone floor. “You should prepare yourself, boy,” he said gravely, moving toward the table cluttered with scrolls and potions. “If Carter left this hut before dawn, there’s a reason—and I doubt it was for fresh air.”

Something in his tone twisted my stomach. “You think something happened to him?”

The Wizard didn’t look up as he answered. “Not to him.” He paused, hands hovering above a rune-carved crystal that pulsed faintly with light. “Something happened within him.”

Before I could demand what he meant, the door burst open. Snow stood framed in the doorway, breathless, the early morning light cutting around her.

“I found him,” she said. “He’s outside by the fence.”

I didn’t wait for her to say more. I bolted out the door.

Carter stood by the fence, staring out at the sun climbing over the hills. The light caught the edge of his face, his expression unreadable. His robe sleeve was pulled low, hand hidden in the folds of fabric, and even from here I could tell something about him looked… different. He turned slightly at the sound of my footsteps, and when his eyes met mine, something cold slid down my spine.

They were still green—but they weren’t his.

“What’re you doing out here?” I asked, forcing my voice to sound casual as I stepped up beside him.

Carter didn’t turn. His gaze stayed fixed on the horizon, where the first light of morning burned against the mist. “Just needed to get out,” he said finally, his tone low—too low. “It got hot inside.”

I frowned. “Hot?” The air bit at my skin, the chill cutting straight through my robe. The cold didn’t seem to bother him though. If anything, he looked… comfortable in it.

“The Wizard says we need to prepare for the Shadowfield,” I said, testing his reaction.

“Okay.” He nodded once, slow and detached, like he’d only half-heard me. But his eyes—those eyes—weren’t really here. They were lost somewhere I couldn’t follow.

“How’d you sleep last night?” I tried again, keeping my tone light, like we were just making small talk.

“I didn’t.”

That one word landed heavier than I expected.

I hesitated. “Then… what’d you do?”

“I just stayed up thinking.”

I tried to laugh it off, but it came out more like a breath. “Thinking about what?”

He took a long, steadying breath before answering, his jaw tightening slightly. “About what to expect at the Shadowfield.”

Liar.

It was written all over him—the way his hand twitched near his sleeve, the way his eyes flicked toward the rising sun like he was waiting for it to burn something away. But I didn’t push. Not yet.

“Ah,” I said softly, pretending to accept the answer, even though every instinct screamed that whatever happened last night… it wasn’t just thinking.

Carter’s gaze lingered on the sleeve of his left arm just a heartbeat too long, his fingers twitching near the fabric like he was resisting the urge to touch it. My brows furrowed.

“Something wrong with your arm?” I asked carefully.

He froze—just for a second—but it was enough. His jaw tightened as he rubbed his arm through the sleeve, the motion too deliberate to be casual. “No. Just a little sore.”

A lie, clear as day.

I narrowed my eyes, but forced myself to stay quiet. Pushing him now would only make him shut down further. Instead, I watched as he reached for Wiz’s pink muzzle, stroking the horse’s nose with slow, distracted movements. His eyes stayed locked with the creature’s—haunted, distant, like he was searching for answers only Wiz could give him.

“Carter,” I said finally, breaking the silence.

He blinked and turned toward me, though it took him a second too long. “Yeah?”

“You know I’m here for you, right?”

A faint smile ghosted over his lips, but it didn’t reach his eyes. They stayed dim—guarded. “Yeah, I know.”

“You’re my brother,” I said firmly, slinging an arm around his shoulders. “And whatever’s going on in that head of yours—you can tell me. No secrets, no hiding. We’re in this together, okay?”

For a moment, I thought I saw something flicker behind his eyes—a flash of guilt, or maybe fear—but it vanished just as quickly as it came. He nodded once, slow and unconvincing.

“Yeah,” he murmured, voice barely above a whisper. “Together.”

Someone cleared their throat behind us, shattering the uneasy quiet like glass. Carter and I turned toward the sound to see Snow standing in the doorway of the hut, pale light spilling around her like a halo.

“The Wizard wants to see you, Carter,” she said softly—but her voice wasn’t its usual calm, lilting tone. It was weighted, cautious.

Carter didn’t speak. He just gave a short nod and brushed past her, the hem of his robe whispering against the wooden floor. The door creaked shut behind him with a heavy finality that made my stomach twist. Snow lingered where she was for a moment, then stepped forward and joined me by the fence. Her fingers found Wiz’s muzzle, stroking him with slow, deliberate care. The horse leaned into her touch, but her eyes—sharp and clouded with worry—stayed fixed on the hut’s door.

Neither of us spoke at first. The air between us felt charged, like the calm before a storm.

Then she broke the silence. “You’re not going to say anything about Carter?”

The question hit me harder than I expected.

I swallowed, pretending I didn’t understand. “What do you mean?”

Snow turned to me then, her expression carved with quiet fear. “You and I both know he’s not the same as he was last night,” she said, voice barely above a whisper. “Something happened to him.”

Her words sank like a stone in my chest. I’d been thinking the same thing—the way his voice sounded lower this morning, the strange detachment in his eyes, like part of him had stayed behind somewhere. But hearing it out loud… it made it real.

“Yeah,” I finally said, my voice rough. “I know.”

Snow’s hand stilled on Wiz’s muzzle, her fingers tightening in the horse’s mane. “The Wizard felt it too,” she murmured, her gaze flicking toward the closed door. “When Carter walked back in this morning… something shifted. The air grew heavier. Like the shadows themselves followed him inside.”

I frowned, glancing toward the hut. “You think the Wicked did something to him?”

Her lips parted, but she didn’t answer right away. The silence stretched—thick, suffocating. Finally, she exhaled, her breath visible in the cool morning air. “I don’t know. But the energy around him—it’s different. Wrong. It doesn’t feel like Carter anymore.”

A chill crawled up my spine, despite the rising sun. “He said he didn’t sleep last night,” I muttered, half to myself. “Said he just… thought.”

Snow’s eyes darkened. “Maybe he wasn’t the only one awake.”

The words settled over me like a curse, and I couldn’t shake them. I turned back toward the hut, every instinct screaming that whatever the Wizard wanted to “discuss” with Carter—it wasn’t going to be simple. For the first time since we’d started this insane journey, I realized I wasn’t just worried for Carter. I was worried about him.