(Content/trigger warnings for this chapter: self-hatred, Ranya is very mean™)
--Ranya--
Now how was I supposed to get back inside, or even search the area? So many Fear Angels prowled the place!
I glanced around for a possible weapon to at least knock them back with, but couldn't find anything.
Skeletal creatures marched along the school's perimeter at full towering height, swiveling their skulls back and forth. What were they doing?
A few bricks fell off the building and thumped onto the snow, and the nearby Fear Angels' gazes snapped toward the sound. But then they saw the bricks, and relaxed and kept marching forward.
I had to find Dakota and get her on my side. She'd seemed pretty intent on killing the Fear Angels for some reason. Maybe she had gone back inside to kill more? Or maybe she would investigate the mist, too.
I almost considered whether she had been the one to soothe Jack—it seemed she could control people, after all. But he had never said anything about a purple bolt slamming into his head, and Dakota didn't have a motive.
Darting from tree to tree, I made it close to the nearest door. Ten Fear Angels marched past me and clambered through the doorway inside. I waited a minute, then darted to the entrance myself.
I opened the door and peered into the building. There was still no sign of the mist, though the hairs on my back prickled as if it were about to seep from the large cracks in the chipped walls. The peels of green paint gaped. Paralyzed bodies still sprawled across the floor; the mist had attacked nothing but the Fear Angels and me and maybe Dakota, at least in this area. Many different sources of clattering—too many to guess this time—sounded through the building. I narrowed my eyes and gritted my teeth as I shut the door behind me. At least it was warm in here.
Clattering grew close, and I ducked into a classroom just as a Fear Angel turned the corner into my hall. I almost slipped on the purple water running across the room, dripping down the whiteboard over the red marker paths. I ducked underneath the teacher's desk and its broken-off, jagged points. Water puddled underneath it; it soaked cold through my shoes. My legs immediately ached from the uncomfortable position.
The Fear Angel's clattered grew louder. Then it stopped in front of the classroom. I listened for the creaking of its bones, or rustle of its feathers—movement. Silence. Then, the clattering retreated.
I must have waited maybe 15 minutes for the coast to be completely clear after that—so many Fear Angels patrolled these halls now. I carefully crept, my legs half-numb and aching, back to the classroom door and peered out. Looked left. Right. Left again. I listened to see if I could hear Dakota, but I couldn't. I would just have to check around.
Which I was about to do, but I finally did slip on the water as I tried to step into the hall. I crashed to the ground, hitting my knees and hands hard as I tried to catch myself.
The nearby clatters paused, then resumed and grew louder. I cursed myself.
I burst out of the classroom and raced down the hall. I had to run somewhere away from where I'd fallen and hide. If I found Dakota instead, maybe she could help, too. Where had she even come back in? Where had she gone out in the first place? I slowed as I took some creaky stairs two at a time.
That was when I heard a voice again. No, two voices, both low. Who else was in here? Someone else who could help?
As a few sources of clattering grew too close, I was forced to dive into an open janitor's closet and close the door. It was a small room and reeked of bleach, and quite a few of the white containers stood on shelvesabout to fall off the wall. The mops clipped to one corner smelled musty.
The clattering outside was a little muffled. I reached over and clutched the handle hard. Their clattering stopped in front of me.
One second. Two. Three. The clattering traveled away.
After a few minutes, I was able to step out of the closet and quietly close the door behind me. I crept farther into the building.
As I did so, I began to be able to pick apart the words the voices were saying. I sucked in a startled breath. I recognized the man's—its silky, almost seductive quality and the way it structured sentences. From Rise of the Guardians.
It belonged to Pitch Black, the Nightmare King.
My heart pounded in my ears, but not from terror. This man—if you could even call him that—was the one who wanted my sister dead.
Clattering came close. I dove into a nearby classroom and hid behind the door.
"I'll ask again, and you will answer me this time," Pitch told Dakota. "Where. Are. The Guardians."
The clattering moved past me. I peeked back out into the hall.
"I don't know!" Dakota's voice was hard and clipped like she could just barely contain her rage. "Die!"
I looked left, then right, and in the middle. When I saw nothing, I sprinted down the hall on the tips of my toes.
Pitch responded, "Oh, I think you do know. I know the Guardians have been around, and if you're not questioning me on their existence, you must believe in them. You can see them. Where did they go?"
More nearby clattering. I barely jumped into a classroom under the teacher's desk in time.
"I've never seen any 'Guardians,'" Dakota said. Her breath came in choked gasps. A powerful feeling rose up in me at that sound. Protect the weak.
"What about the mist that killed my Fear Angels?" Pitch said. "What was it? Where did it come from?"
The clattering stopped at the classroom's entrance. I held my breath.
"Even if I did know, I wouldn't tell you!" Dakota said. "Die!"
"Whatever you're trying to do, it isn't working, so you may as well stop," Pitch said. "The mist didn't come from you, by any chance?"
"No!"
The Fear Angel continued down the hall. I waited a minute, then burst toward where the voices were coming from.
"I recall you aiming a pipe at me before I restrained you," Pitch said.
His voice echoed some as I drew close. The gym. That's where they are. I sprinted toward it.
"If you weren't stalking around Windshallow, I wouldn't have to," said Dakota. "We had enough problems before you came. You have to leave!"
Fear Angels turned the corner ahead of me just as I opened the gym door.
Skeletal creatures stood in a half-circle in the gym. Pitch was nearby with his back to me. His hoodless black cloak reached the floor, draped like palpable shadows. An aura of darkness seemed to hang around him—inky power.
A stalactite of glinting Black Sand—corrupted Dreamsand—held Dakota suspended in the air, revealing only her head. She groaned as it squeezed her body, her face twisted in obvious fury. Even as she struggled, the sand wouldn't budge. Her eyes darted in my direction, and her expression shifted unreadably for an instant before she resumed attention on Pitch.
I ran through a thousand possible plans within a second on how I could distract him enough to free Dakota's hands so she could take care of the Fear Angels. And how to get up there in the first place.
But he spun toward me, and suddenly something rough and grainy wrapped around my arms, rocketing me into the air with a sharp jerk. I struggled and tried to claw the sand off, but more and more wound around me like thick coils of rope. It bound my arms and legs and the rest of my body together so tightly it was hard to breathe. It left only my face exposed to the air.
Pitch leered at me from the ground with his piercing eclipse-like eyes. "And what might you be doing here?"
I narrowed my own. Something fierce bubbled within me. Justice for the weak. Let's see how far I can take this. "Admiring your dress."
Pitch scowled. "It's a cloak, girl. I'd watch my words if I were you." He acknowledged Dakota again, still scowling. "Where. Are. The Guardians. One of you has seen them. Entering this school to kill my Fear Angels? You've been influenced, haven't you?"
"Influenced?" I said.
"Yes, influenced," Pitch replied. "I'm sure you heard what I said very clearly."
"But, see, I'm very clearly not gonna tell you what you want."
The sand around me tightened, and I gasped for air.
"We'll see about that, girl," Pitch said.
"But the Guardians, send some humans after you?" I choked out. "Are you calling yourself weak, or stupid? I can't tell which."
Dakota's eyes widened slightly as Pitch glowered.
"Watch your tongue."
"Sounds boring." The sands around me tightened further, and I spluttered—my final strike: "With your wife dead and your daughter ignoring you, all from what you've done, surely you can be more exciting than that. You really have to be something to lose your family." Many people didn't lose their families through a fault of their own, but I wasn't against stooping that low to hurt Pitch.
His face darkened.
The sand released my and Dakota's bodies, and the room plunged into blackness. Wait, no! I cursed myself.
The world slowed. Had my release come as a surprise to the Fear Angels? Were they still processing what had happened? Could they see in the dark? Air whistled through my ears and around my body. Bones clattered toward me. I strained against the darkness, but I couldn't see any single thing.
How much time did I have? How many Fear Angels were around? I hadn't counted them. Could I somehow land on top of one and live? Bones were pretty hard.
I tried to move toward the clattering anyway, but with nothing in midair to push off to any direction, I wasn't moving very quickly.
Suddenly, a surging purple bolt streaked from an umber hand to sentient bones right below me. They glowed a faint purple in the pitch black.
"Fight!" Dakota commanded.
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