Twenty-Three
I push myself faster, but I can never be as fast as Chase. The forest flies past me. I wonder at what point the illusion will end. I throw a glance over my shoulder and—smoky tendrils are right there. Fear tears its way up my throat.
“Chase—”
Black smoke envelops me. My body goes numb and the illusion vanishes. I hit the stone floor on my side and roll to a halt on my front. I don’t feel any pain. Chase is nearby, groaning something. The smoke lifts—and the pain slams into me. The screaming ache where my left side hit the ground. I manage to lift my head and squint past a bright spot of light. The lantern on the ground, I think. Fortunately it didn’t go out.
With another groan, Chase rolls onto his side and gets awkwardly to his feet. The smoke hovers, still shapeless, but
