Page 72 of Dare

“Where are you hiding?” I whispered to the key.

“What are you trying to tell me?” I whispered to the ruins.

If I kept still long enough, the walls might answer. They might whisper back, speak to me in their language, and show me the way.

Several days passed. As the sun rose, the forest resounded with noise. And as the sun peeked, the canopy buzzed with activity. And as the sun set, this world released a sleepy melody that included bird whistles and shivering leaves, like a lament and a plea and a sigh all at once.

When it was finally safe for my arm to get wet, I returned to the grotto, the pool sparkling as I stripped and dove. Warmth melted through me. I floated naked on my back, dazzled by the ripples reflected in the ceiling.

Legends were paradises and curses and wishes and horrors. They were made of miracles and monsters. The Phantom Wild allowed me to experience it all, never promising some things wouldn’t hurt. Sacrifices were part of the cost, the price of exploring.

I loved this world. I adored my cuts and bare feet. What a beauty, this adventure. It was escape and exile, and that was okay for me, because I’d rather die quickly here than rot slowly inside the throat of that tower.

I’d rather be wild in a forest than go mad in a castle.

I missed Poet and Briar, and I missed Mama and Papa. But what a joy and privilege to have people worth missing, to have that kinship. My eyes stung as I let myself miss them.

The seahorses came out to play, flitting from the crevices like a brigade. Chuckling, I splashed them, and their curled tails flicked water back at me. I sank under the surface and danced with them, twirling around their shapes.

The seahorses glimmered under the surface, illuminating the abyss. They led me into a maze of underwater passages, with verdant reeds sprouting from the nooks and whiskered fish floating through the channels. I pumped my arms, sensing a gift ahead—a treasure. I’d known this feeling many times with Mama and Papa, the prediction creeping up on me. It could be the key buried under the ruins, beneath layers of stone and bedrock and liquid.

In another pool, I popped above the surface, emerging into a hollow as small as a tub. Beneath the low ceiling, broad white shrubs jutted from the walls. Their leaves resembled moth wings, delicate and filmy. I braced myself on the rocks and reached out to stroke a pad, surprised by its texture. Plucking one, I marveled at how it stretched like elastic, willowy but flexible like gauze.

A plant that felt like gauze!

Not the key. But something else I’d been looking for.

I took the souvenir with me and returned to the main grotto, hoping this flora would be an ample trade for what the prince had done to my arm. The seahorses trailed behind until I reached the shallow end, where I stopped and rose navel-deep. With a grin, I glanced back to bid them farewell.

They gave me no warning. Darting into the recesses, they simply fled.

My grin dropped, my hand suspended mid-wave as something tickled my thigh. The grotto echoed with a strange noise. A water current brushed my flesh, signaling a lithe figure behind me.

My limbs tensed. Foreboding stalked up my nape.

At a snail’s pace, I turned to inspect the depth. A pointed fin cut through the eddies, and a striped blur slithered across the pool. In Summer, only lucky fish dwelled in both salt and freshwater. This predator was one of them.

My terrified mind whispered. Get out of the pool. Now.

Yet a person wouldn’t guess how quickly the visitor moved for its size. It speared toward me, crashed through the surface, and opened its razor-sharp maw.

27

Jeryn

I’d seen a siren shark before. I had been young, a boy standing in a foreign sea, my limbs frozen in shock. Mesmerized. Terrified. The creature’s skin had glinted pewter and sterling as its fins sheared through the ocean.

Time reversed. The rainforest evaporated, and a new landscape materialized, placing me on that shore. That day.

My body shrank into a child’s form. I could not move, my legs paralyzed in the surf.

How did I get here? When? Why?

I snatched my vial for courage. Saltwater leaked past my lips, the brackish taste making me yearn for home.

Sleighs. Libraries. Wolves.

My fur blanket. My snowflake collection.