Chapter 170: The Mist
**James**
The mist clings to us like a shroud as we venture deeper into the forest, the air thick with the scent of damp earth and something else—something ancient and yearning. Avery’s hand tightens in mine, her fingers trembling ever so slightly. I can feel her unease, a ripple in the bond that connects us all. The lost souls are here, I know it. Their whispers brush against my mind, a chorus of voices that have been trapped for centuries, yearning for release. I hope that Avery can handle this. We can’t help everyone because some people deserve such a fate. Can my mate’s huge heart handle the weight of our current situation?
“We’re close,” Avery murmurs, her voice barely audible over the rustling leaves. Her eyes scan the shadows, her dragon-scale jewelry glinting faintly in the dim light. She’s dressed in her regal attire, a form-fitting gown that clings to her curves, but there’s a tension in her shoulders, a readiness that speaks of the battle ahead. I am proud of how she has accepted her role as queen. I was far more rebellious at her age, but I could also touch my mate. She can draw strength from us as we do from her.
Cassius moves to her other side, his presence a silent reassurance. His leather armor creaks as he shifts, his blue eyes piercing the gloom. “Stay alert,” he says, his voice low and commanding. “They’re here, but they’re not alone.” Cassius reminds me of myself once I became king without relying on my aids. He is different from his brothers, and I doubt he knows it. I like his brothers, but I feel more connected to Cassius than to them. I can’t quite place my finger on the reason for this connection either.
I glance at Clint, who’s scanning the perimeter with a focused intensity. His fitted jeans and leather jacket seem out of place in this ancient forest, but his determination is undeniable. “We’ve got your back, Avery,” he says, his voice steady. “Whatever it takes.” I know that none of us packed for how extensive this journey has been. I think we hoped that Altima would be far easier to locate using the In-Between.
Conner is a few steps ahead, his dark jacket blending into the shadows. “They’re drawn to her,” he says, his voice tight. “Her power, her connection to the Primal Flame. We need to be ready for anything.”
The whispers grow louder, more insistent. I can feel them tugging at my mind, a chorus of voices that speak of longing, of regret, of centuries spent in limbo. Avery’s breath hitches, and I know she feels it too. She’s the key, the bridge between the living and the dead.
“We have to help them,” she says, her voice firm. “They’re not our enemies. They’re lost, trapped. We can’t leave them here.”
“Be careful, Avery,” I warned, my green eyes flashing and my voice laced with concern. “Their desperation could make them dangerous. We don’t know what they’re capable of.”
“I know,” she says, her voice soft but resolute. “But we can’t turn our backs on them. Not when we have the power to help.”
The trees seem to close in around us, their branches reaching like skeletal fingers. The whispers grow louder, more urgent, until they’re a cacophony of voices, each one pleading, begging for release.
And then, they appear.
Figures emerge from the mist, their forms translucent and shimmering. They’re not quite human, not quite dragon, but something in between. Their eyes are hollow, their faces etched with centuries of sorrow. They reach out, their hands passing through the air as if it’s water, their voices a mournful keening.
Avery steps forward, her hand outstretched. “Dear souls, I’m here,” she says, her voice steady. “I can help you. But you have to trust me.”
One of the figures, a woman with long, flowing hair, steps closer. Her eyes lock onto Avery’s, and for a moment, the forest seems to hold its breath. “You… you’re the one,” she whispers, her voice barely audible. “The one the prophecies spoke of.”
Avery’s brow furrows. “I am. But I’m not here to fulfill prophecies. I’m here to help you find peace.”
The woman’s form flickers, her voice growing stronger. “Then you must understand. We’re bound here, trapped by the darkness that consumed us. To be free, we need… we need…”
Her voice trails off, and the forest seems to darken. The other figures stir, their forms becoming more solid, their eyes glowing with an eerie light.
“We need… release,” another figure says, his voice deep and resonant. “But it comes at a cost. A price that must be paid.”
Avery’s hand tightens around mine, her grip firm. “What do you need?” she asks, her voice steady. “Tell me, and we’ll do whatever it takes.”
The figures close in, their forms pressing against us, their voices a chorus of whispers. “A sacrifice,” they say, their voices overlapping. “A piece of your soul, a fragment of your essence. Only then can we be free.”
I can feel the weight of their gaze, the intensity of their need. Avery’s breath hitches, her eyes flicking to each of us in turn. “I’ll do it,” she says, her voice firm. “I’ll give them what they need. But I need you all to be ready. This… this could be dangerous.”
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