19
Shade opened his eyes to find himself sitting on a felled trunk in an open forest clearing, facing forward, his hands clamped onto the seat on either side of him, holding himself in place.
He had no memory of travelling here. No idea what time of day it was. His last memory was clouded; he had images of climbing, of heading toward the top of an impossibly tall tree. Feeling it rock and sway beneath him as a thick black smoke stained the sky.
‘You have done well, child. More than you realise.’
Sitting at the front of the clearing, on a high, intricately carved wooden throne, was the Guardian. Shade wanted to close his eyes, to blind himself to the sight, yet he couldn’t. His eyes were drawn to the figure, pulled along the strangely curved carvings of its throne.
The Guardian didn’t
