Chapter no 9 – 10

Chapter no 9

The air around us shifted, turning colder, heavier. It pressed against my skin, an invisible force that made my chest tighten and my stomach clench. A presence—an ancient, malevolent presence—slithered through the forest like an unseen serpent. My instincts screamed at me to look, to find the source of the wrongness creeping over me. But I kept my eyes forward, my breath shallow, my heart pounding so loudly I was sure whatever it was could hear it.

Lucien’s voice was barely audible. “Do not look, Feyre. Do not react.”

Something moved in the periphery of my vision—a shadow darker than the shaded underbrush, flickering at the edges of my sight. My fingers tightened on the reins, the leather slick with sweat. I fought the urge to glance at Lucien, to see if he was as terrified as I felt.

The presence drew closer, and the horses stiffened beneath us. My mare snorted, her muscles trembling under my legs. The shadow moved again, and I caught the faintest whisper—like wind through leaves, or perhaps a voice. It was speaking, I realized. Soft, sibilant words that I couldn’t quite make out, brushing against my ears and my mind. My skin prickled, every nerve screaming to run, to fight, to do anything but sit there and stare ahead.

“Don’t listen,” Lucien hissed. “Block it out.”

Block it out? How? The voice seemed to weave into my thoughts, teasing them apart like strands of thread. It was seductive, promising answers, secrets, power—everything I might desire. My grip on the reins faltered, and I nearly turned my head before Lucien’s growled command snapped me back. “Straight ahead, Feyre!”

I bit down on the inside of my cheek, the pain sharp enough to anchor me. The whispers grew louder, more insistent, but I focused on the path ahead, on the dappled sunlight filtering through the trees, on the rhythmic clop of the horses’ hooves.

Then, as suddenly as it had come, the presence withdrew. The air lightened, the oppressive weight lifting from my chest. The forest was silent again, save for the distant chirping of birds and the rustle of leaves in the breeze. I let out a shaky breath, only then realizing how tightly I’d been gripping the reins.

Lucien didn’t speak until the horses had carried us a safe distance. Even then, his voice was tight, laced with barely concealed fear. “That was a Bogge,” he said. “You’re lucky it didn’t notice you.”

I swallowed hard, my mouth dry. “What is a Bogge?”

“A predator,” he said grimly. “It feeds on fear. If you’d looked at it, if you’d reacted, it would have killed us both.”

My stomach churned at the thought. “Why didn’t it attack us anyway?”

Lucien’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Because we didn’t give it a reason to. Bogges thrive on attention—on your terror. Ignoring it is the only way to survive.” He shot me a sidelong glance, his metal eye whirring softly. “Most humans wouldn’t have managed to keep their composure. I’ll give you that.”

I didn’t reply, too shaken to care about the backhanded compliment. The weight of what had just happened settled over me, heavy and cold. I’d survived, yes—but barely. And the thought of what else might be lurking in these woods, waiting for the slightest mistake, made my earlier plans of escape feel all the more impossible.

For now, I would stay. For now, I would learn. And if Prythian was as deadly as Lucien claimed, then I would need every scrap of knowledge and skill I could gather to survive.

Chapter no 10

I stumbled back from the window, my heart slamming against my ribs. My father? How? Impossible. He couldn’t be here, not across the wall, not in Prythian. And yet, there he was—his familiar limp, his tattered cloak, his frail figure unmistakable. He stood in the garden, looking directly at me, his face etched with weariness and desperation.

Panic surged through me. Had Tamlin brought him here? Had something gone wrong back home? But the longer I stared, the more dread began to unfurl in my chest. Something wasn’t right.

I rushed to the door, throwing it open, my feet pounding against the floor as I ran down the hallway and stairs. The house was eerily silent, the faint glow of candlelight casting long shadows. The dining room was empty, as was the grand hall. Lucien must have retired, and Tamlin … Tamlin was still out hunting the Bogge.

I hesitated at the door leading to the garden, my hand trembling on the handle. My father had taken another step closer to the house, his movements slow and jerky. Something about the way he moved set my teeth on edge, but I couldn’t let him stand out there in the cold.

I pushed the door open, the night air rushing in to greet me, and stepped outside. “Father?” I called softly, my voice barely above a whisper. The figure didn’t respond, didn’t move toward me. He just stood there, his head tilted slightly as if waiting.

“Father!” I called again, louder this time, taking a tentative step closer. He lifted his head, and the faint moonlight illuminated his face. My breath hitched.

It was my father—but not. His features were off somehow, his eyes dull and unseeing, his expression slack. And then, as he took another step forward, I saw it—a shimmer, a faint distortion around him, like heat rising from the ground on a summer’s day. Magic. An illusion.

My stomach turned to ice.

“Feyre,” he rasped, his voice thin and strained. “Help me. Please.”

It wasn’t him. It couldn’t be. I staggered back, my heart thundering in my ears. The shimmer grew stronger, and as I blinked, the image of my father flickered, revealing something else entirely. The thing wearing my father’s face was hunched and grotesque, its eyes gleaming with malice.

A faerie. One of the creatures Alis had warned me about.

I fumbled for the knife tucked into my tunic, my fingers shaking as I drew it out. “What do you want?” I demanded, trying to keep my voice steady.

The creature let out a low, guttural laugh, its form shifting slightly, blurring at the edges. “To see what the human girl who killed Andras is made of,” it purred, its voice now a deep, inhuman rumble. “To see if you’re worth the trouble.”

I gripped the knife tighter, my heart pounding as I backed toward the door. “Stay back.”

The creature didn’t move, but its laughter followed me, chilling and hollow. “Run, little human. Run back to your High Lord. See how well he protects you.”

I didn’t wait to hear more. I turned and bolted for the house, slamming the door shut behind me and locking it. My breath came in ragged gasps as I leaned against the wood, my hands trembling.

Whatever that thing was, it wasn’t here to kill me—not yet, at least. It had been a warning, a taunt. And as I stood there in the silence, my knife still clutched in my hand, I realized one thing with bone-deep certainty: I was more vulnerable here than I’d ever imagined.