Liz Kerin - The Phantom Forest

THE

PHANTOM FOREST

LIZ KERIN

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the authors imagination or are used fictitiously.

Copyright 2019 Liz Kerin

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

Published by Inkshares, Inc., Oakland, California

www.inkshares.com

Edited by Matt Harry

Cover design by CoverKitchen

Interior design by Kevin G. Summers

ISBN: 9781947848993

e-ISBN: 9781947848481

LCCN: 2018937935

First edition

Printed in the United States of America

For my grandmother, Elaine.

CONTENTS

PROLOGUE

THE DAY THE MORTALS discovered the afterlife, the sky opened upand it never closed again.

That day, a black fissure appeared across the Underworlds pale violet sky, like someone had torn a hole in the very fabric of the universe. There was nothing beyond the tear but darknessa black veil, dividing one world from the other. The rupture in the sky remained, like a scarreminding any immortal creature who glimpsed it that their home would never be a secret again.

Haben hadnt been there when it happened. He had not yet arrived in the Underworld, nor had he received his eternal sentence. But he knew what it meant, the first time he saw it. Enlightenment had come at a price for the mortal world. That hed seen: decades of violent infighting. Ruin beyond redemption. For all their intellect and technological prowess, the humans fell on their own sword. Sometimes, Haben thought they deserved it. Theyd reached for something they were never meant to grasp. Underworld dwellers had always been able to cross to the other side and observe the mortal world, but the opposite was forbidden. There was a reason the humans were left in the dark: They were greedy. Selfish. Their simple minds couldnt absorb the truth.

Haben was glad to be rid of the mortal world at first. But that was before he understood the meaning of his new life, before he understood what it meant to be a demon. Before the torture began.

He glanced up at the rising sun and the jagged black rock face that loomed before him. He only had a few more minutes to reach his destination. The dark fissure in the sky, the mortals window to their world, would soon align with the cliff above him. He knew sending a message to the other side was hopeless; the mortals didnt watch the Veil anymore. All the demons knew that. But it didnt stop them from trying.

Haben grasped a craggy foothold, hoisting himself up onto the cliff. The sleeve of his tattered robe shifted, revealing two identical black tattoos snaking up the length of both his arms. He was always startled, even after so many hundreds of years, to catch sight of them: diagonal lines, originating at his elbow crease, crisscrossing down the pale flesh of his forearm toward his wrist, creating the appearance of a cage on his skin. He couldnt help but think, as he always did, of their resemblance to shackles. Dohv marked all his servants this way once he claimed them.

As he climbed, Haben remembered the first time he had observed his immortal body in the sunlight, how horrified he had been when he realized he could see straight through the flesh on his arms if he looked hard enough. Dohv, Lord of the Underworld and Keeper of Life, had given him a new encasement for his soul, different from the body hed had in life. His ashen skin housed organs, organs that circulated bloodblood that would never run dry, so long as the universe endured. He had been made this way for a reason, so he could still experience whatever physical pain Dohv wished to visit upon him.

Haben had only seen his reflection once, in the dark, mirrorlike floor of Dohvs palace. He was struck by the face of the man staring back at him. He had not aged, but he was gaunt. Sallow. A husk of his former self. His eyes, lively and green, which had suited his face so perfectly in life, bulged disproportionately above his protruding cheekbones. His hair had thinned to wisps. He dared to hope he could still glimpse the man he used to be, underneath it all. But he hadnt looked at himself even once since then.

With an exhausted grunt, Haben pulled himself up over the edge of the obsidian cliff. As dawn crested the horizon, the rupture in the sky inched toward the spot where he stood. Haben caught his breath, gazing across the enormous stone slab before him, at the hundreds of thousands of crude etchings that had been carved into it. He plucked a shard of rock from the ground and clutched it in his shaky fist. Even though he knew it was useless, even though hed tried it so many times to no avail, he found a small, blank space and began to write:

I Am

Haben wasnt sure what lay on the other side of that fissure in the sky, but he knew the humans werent watching anymore. Not since the war. But still, he longed to tell them

I Am Sorr

At that moment, he dropped the stone and doubled over with an agonized growl. He felt as though hed swallowed a knife that was stabbing him from the inside out. He collapsed onto his side, bracing himself. Here it comes. Here was his punishment from Dohv. Here was the hunger.

Whenever Dohvs curse reared its ugly head, it took Haben by surprise, even though it had been happening for centuries. He would languish, starving, until he finally accepted his fate: to cross to the other side and consume his sacrifice. He would eat his fill, destroying, bit by anguished bit, whatever was left of his mortal soul.

The second hunger pang hit Haben like a tidal wave and forced him to draw his legs to his chest. He gnawed on the top of his knee to keep himself from screeching like a tortured animal. This was the breaking point for a living being, the moment a starving person would succumb to death. But for Haben, there would be no release. There would be no death.

As he writhed on the ground, he mouthed the words he was unable to finish writing:

S-sorry. I am s

But he knew hed soon give in. He always did. And even as he howled and cursed Dohvs name for such a gruesome sentence, he knew he deserved every moment of it for the crimes he had committed. He had earned this terrible, endless fate.

CHAPTER ONE

SEYCIA HADNT REACHED the pit yet, but she already knew: tonights victim would be a child. The autumnal sacrifice had been a woman, with silver hair and chipped, yellow teeth. Seycia had been close enough to see her, the last timethough shed closed her eyes for the worst parts. But because the last offering had been an adult, she knew General Simeons next victim would be much younger.

A frigid breeze whipped her mane of dark, untamed hair across her face and into her eyes. She tied it into a knot behind her neck and shivered as the day faded to cold, foreboding twilight. Twice each year, a fearsome windstorm rattled Khronasa for three days. On the third night of the storm, the Savage would come to claim its sacrifice. That night was tonight.

His names Henshaw, a small voice piped up. Seycia spun to face her brother, Miko. Hed been silent up until then, shuffling along a few paces behind her. It was a long walk to the city center from their cabin on the hillsidehe was probably getting tired.

Where did you hear his name? She didnt need to ask who he was referring to.

Last night. You mustve been asleep already. There was a lady crying, down by the river. She kept saying his name. Miko lowered his voice and added, I think hes from the hill.