Derek, Isabelle, and Tunga had been moving in silence for several minutes, forcing their way through the dense jungle.

  There was something strange about the silence. It felt like it was waiting.

  Branches bent ever so slightly as they passed, as if watching them. Vines hung like dangling entrails. The air was thick and unmoving, reeking of sweet rot.

  The green was too green. The silence, too silent. And with every step came the growing sense that the forest wasn’t letting them pass… like it was trying to trap them.

  Derek had no desire to speak, and the sheer effort of forcing their way through the tangle of vines, branches, and thorny undergrowth demanded their full attention.

  Tunga was struggling more and more to control the vegetation and he had no idea why.

  They had to stop often, relying on Isabelle’s greatsword to hack through the thicker patches.

  More than once, Derek had considered turning back and trying a different route, but every time he looked behind them, the wall of green was just as impenetrable as what lay ahead.

  In the end, moving forward seemed like the only real choice.

  Derek remained nestled in NOVA’s cool interior, but judging by the sweat pouring down Isabelle and Tunga’s faces, the air outside was growing more humid and suffocating by the minute.

  Isabelle wiped her forehead with the back of her hand. “Derek, are you sure we’re heading in the right direction? I can’t even see more than a meter ahead.”

  “Absolutely, Isabelle!” Vanda’s cheerful voice crackled through NOVA’s speakers. “The Repair Bots have located the village and are feeding me real-time navigation data. Just keep going and you’ll reach it in approximately thirty-seven minutes.”

  Isabelle nodded, raised her sword, and sliced cleanly through a thick vine that had barred their path.

  “I’ve got a plan for when we get there,” Derek said.

  Isabelle and Tunga exchanged a strange look of shared understanding and said nothing.

  Derek frowned. “What? You don’t want to hear it?”

  Tunga shook his head.

  Isabelle rolled her eyes and answered patiently. “Of course… What exactly do you plan to do once we’re there?”

  The frown on Derek’s forehead deepened. “I’ll pretend I didn’t notice your completely unjustified reaction.”

  Isabelle rubbed her forehead like she was fighting off a headache. “Derek, not even Vanda trusts your plans. And you made her.”

  “It’s true!” Vanda chimed in, a little too enthusiastically.

  Derek sighed. “Clearly my brilliance is just beyond your grasp. It must be tough for such rudimentary minds to appreciate the subtlety of my strategies.”

  Isabelle blinked. “Derek, you sent your precious golems—the ones you call Repair Bots—straight into battle just to create a diversion. And you nearly lost them. What would you have done if they were destroyed? Who would’ve repaired your beloved armor, which is the only reason you’re still alive?”

  Derek opened his mouth to argue, but she cut him off.

  “And should we talk about when you insulted Uriela Valen? In front of the Sacred Guard, the refugees, and me?” She touched her forehead like she had a fever. “She could’ve erased you in a blink.”

  Derek tried again. She shut him down again.

  “Two minutes after arriving in Rothmere, you picked a fight with a group of kids! Was that part of the plan, too?”

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  “Hey,” Derek said. “They started it!”

  She shook her head and slashed at another curtain of vines. “And what about what you did at the Council Hall? You crashed through the glass ceiling during a sacred ceremony meant to welcome the Cashnar! Derek, do you realize how deeply offensive that was to the entire Church?”

  He raised a finger, ready to object. “Look, I—”

  “And let’s not forget,” she pressed on, “right after that, you tried to fool the entire Council—including Uriela and her seers—with that stupid illusion. Did you seriously think that would work? Are you actually convinced your plans and so-called strategies are any good?” The Warden glared at him, exasperated.

  Derek shut his mouth. “Well, when you put it like that, I guess—”

  Tunga smacked his shin plate with his staff. “Your problem is you think everyone is dumber than you.”

  Derek pushed the staff away with one hand and made a face. “I have a PhD. You have a stick with a dead animal skull jammed on top for no reason. Forgive me if I struggle to believe you’re the smart one here.”

  Tunga frowned. “It was my pet when I was little.”

  Isabelle shook her head and kept moving, hacking at the jungle like it was the real source of her frustration.

  Derek sighed. If they were starting to question his leadership, they’d run into bigger problems down the line. Time to reassert control.

  “Alright,” he said, clapping his armored hands together. “Here’s what we’re going to do once we reach Ebonshade.”

  Isabelle didn’t respond, too focused on forcing her way forward. Tunga stepped up beside her, silently helping clear the path.

  Good. That meant they were listening. Right?

  Derek cleared his throat and raised his voice. “First thing we do is talk to Elias,” he announced.

  They both stopped.

  Isabelle turned slowly, her wide gray eyes locking onto him, sword clenched a little too tightly in her hand. “You’re joking, right?”

  Derek smiled. “Not at all. We’re at a massive tactical disadvantage. Ebonshade’s a small village, and that crazy priest has dozens of undead at his command.” He shook his head. “The more I think about it, the more obvious it is. We’ll never be able to search for the girls without getting caught.”

  Isabelle’s eyes widened until the whites showed all around her irises. “You do realize Elias is undead, completely insane, and is probably out there right now looking to murder us?”

  Derek nodded, calm as ever. “Perfectly aware. But Elias isn’t a mindless beast. He’s just… very confused. If we talk to him, convince him it was all a misunderstanding, make him believe we’re on his side…”

  “On his side?” Tunga snapped. “I no side with dead men!” He slammed his staff into the ground.

  Derek grimaced. Damn it, how was that not obvious? “Right… Tunga… I didn’t mean literally. We just need him to think we’re with him, alright?” He raised both hands. “All we need is time. A few hours in Ebonshade without the undead on our heels. Just enough to find Alyra and Sierelith. Then we’re gone.”

  “Derek,” Vanda said, “most of your plans end with ‘then we’re gone.’ And it rarely turns out that way.”

  Isabelle planted her sword in the ground and took a step toward him, her face flushed. “Let me remind you that, thanks to your little missile stunt, Elias now thinks you’re a false messiah. How exactly do you plan to talk to him before he blasts you into a puddle? I felt his power. He’s stronger than the three of us combined. You walk up to him, you’re getting squashed like a bug before you even open your mouth.”

  Derek nodded, still smiling. “That’s why you have to be the one to talk to him.”

  Isabelle stared at him, jaw hanging open.

  Tunga’s eyes bulged.

  Derek gave her a soft pat on the shoulder. “I have full confidence in you,” he said, voice oozing exaggerated encouragement.

  Her mouth stayed open.

  Then, slowly, she closed it.

  She swallowed and pulled her sword from the ground like it was a sheath slick with moisture. “I’m better with a blade than with words…”

  Derek winced. “Yeah, I can tell. But I’m afraid you’ll need to expand your skill set. Elias knew you when he was alive. He knows your faith in Orbisar is real. And as long as he still sees himself as a priest tending to his flock... he shouldn’t try to kill you. Not right away, at least.”

  Tunga glanced between Isabelle and Derek. “What about us?”

  Derek’s smile widened. “While Isabelle convinces Elias she’s on his side, helping him hunt us down but actually feeding him false leads. You and I will be tracking down the girls.”

  A heavy silence settled over the group. Derek could almost hear Isabelle’s brain grinding at full speed, desperately searching for a better idea. One that didn’t involve playing along with the delusions of a zombie priest.

  Finally, the Warden’s shoulders dropped with a sigh. “A-alright. I’ll try to talk to Elias. If there’s even a shred of the man he used to be left… I’ll try to reach it. May Orbisar help me.”

  Derek nodded approvingly. “You’ll do fine. As long as you treat him like the priest he thinks he still is, he should play along.”

  At least until he went completely mad. But there was no need to say that part out loud.

  Isabelle gave a doubtful nod and slashed at the jungle. Her blade struck something with a dull thump and stuck. She yanked it loose from whatever had caught it.

  Tunga raised his staff. A thick tangle of vines and branches shifted aside like a curtain, revealing the massive bark of an enormous tree.

  Derek stared in awe at the colossal kapok tree blocking the path to Ebonshade.

  It had fallen across the undergrowth, its bark split open to reveal pale, spongy fibers teeming with insects. The trunk lay across the path like a toppled altar in some long-forgotten temple. Its branches curled outward, gnarled and sharp, reaching like the hands of the dead.

  A shiver crept down Derek’s spine. Something in the air had changed. The suffocating heat had given way to a bone-deep chill.

  He turned to Tunga expectantly. The guy had already moved half the jungle with his weird powers. Surely he could handle one rotting tree.

  The shaman shook his head. “I command living plants. This one is dead.”

  Derek sighed and stared at the obstacle again. Blow it up? Too loud. Would attract attention. Elias and his undead were still out there somewhere. Plasma blades? Fire risk. He could leap over it with NOVA, but that would leave the others behind.

  Judging by its thickness, the tree could stretch over a hundred meters. Whatever. Better to play it safe.

  “We go around,” Derek said at last.

  Tunga placed a calloused palm on the trunk and frowned. He closed his eyes and murmured something unintelligible.

  Isabelle stepped up beside him. “Something wrong?”

  Tunga opened his mouth to answer, but a branch snapped and twisted toward him. Long, finger-like limbs lashed out, wrapped around his head, and yanked him high into the air.

  “Tunga!” Derek shouted.

  Before he could react, something clamped around his legs. The world flipped. The jungle spun around him like a kaleidoscope of green.

  A massive branch had grabbed NOVA by the feet and was lifting him like a toy.

  Below, Isabelle was a blur of lightning and blades, tearing through every branch that got too close.

  New limbs erupted from the rotting bark with sharp cracks. For every one she destroyed, more burst from the trunk. She moved like a storm, furious and fast, too quick to follow.

  Then a spongy lump on the bark burst like a boil, spewing millions of insects. They poured down the trunk, crawling and slithering as one pulsing mass.

  They were heading straight for Isabelle. She didn’t see it coming, too busy fighting the branches.

  Derek swore through his teeth. He had to break free, warn Isabelle, help Tunga, do something before that undead tree ripped them all apart.

  He had a long to-do list, and hanging upside down wasn’t even on it. But before he could do anything, the tree began to scream.

  With the voice of a girl.