Chapter 30

Screams fill the dungeon, shrill and agonizing.

I cover my ears.

Rooks squawk and whoosh in a blur of feathers and beaks. Trib picks up a strange stringed instrument that looks like a polished wooden banjo and cradles it to her chest. It seems to beat in her arms with the pulse of life.

The girl howls.

Rooks land in sync in front of the chair.

The girl’s face, heaving and sobbing, morphs into a picture of misery, tear-strewn and red.

My heart throbs.

Then silence commands the room, save for the faint moans from the girl’s lips.

The midnight-black rooks form an ominous circle at the foot of her chair. A lone bird hops out of formation, closer to the girl. Behind it, its shadow grows enormous on the dungeon wall. It must be the only thing the girl sees as the rook draws near.

Her face crinkles with fear.

The bird’s shadow expands, inch by inch until it overtakes the entire wall … and flies beak-first into her face.

I turn my head.