Zonah.
For many, a place of dreams. A thriving city of industry and commerce.
For Carissa, a place of nightmares. A trap she’d willingly walked into.
As the border swept over them like a curtain of cold, black air, Carissa felt her skin prickle with goose bumps. Not only because she could feel the Reapers’ icy presence—and there were many—but because she could see the outline of Zonah’s city wall in the fading light. As Elon had predicted, they’d made it just before nightfall.
As they neared, she spotted a few guards at the gate.
Lyron sighed. “Finally. Let’s go get dinner.”
Elon slowed his horse, his eyes narrowed on the guards. “Lyron—”
But Lyron was already trotting ahead, waving to the guards from atop his horse.
The guards drew their weapons, and Lyron finally slowed.
Elon sighed. “It seems there’s been a change of plan. How do all of you feel about entering Zonah as prisoners?”
Algernon replied, “I don’t like that idea at all. Why don’t we camp out here? I’ll hunt for food, and—”
A wolf howl interrupted him, and Algernon muttered a few curses she’d never heard before.
“I wouldn’t recommend that,” Elon said.