Free The Secret of Dreadwillow Carse by Brian Farrey

minute. When at last the light vanished, Jeniah had to concede.
    She had no idea where Aon’s father was.

Chapter Ten

    THE PEOPLE OF THE MONARCHY, OF COURSE, DID NOT HAVE BAD dreams. Such was the nature of their never-ending bliss. They all woke refreshed every morning, having dreamt only of honey-flavored tea and purple-tinted sunsets and everything that made them happy. They had no idea what a nightmare even was.
    But Aon knew. Nightmares like the one where the mirebramble had overrun Emberfell, the vines pulling everything in their path toward the black marsh. Or the one where the Carse grew bigger and bigger before her eyes. From an early age, Aon found her nightmares told her what no one else knew about the black swamp. The Carse was what fierce things feared encountering in their own nightmares.
    With Dreadwillow Carse on their right, Aon and Laius crept beneath the night’s black canopy. Aon cast a glance toward Nine Towers. Was Jeniah in her room this very minute, waiting for word on what Aon had discovered? Was she pleading with the queen to release Aon’s father and choose someone else to serve her? Yes. Aon had faith the princess was honoring their bargain. Now Aon had to find the strength to hold up her end.
    The pair stopped at the entry to the Carse, framed by low-hanging dreadwillow branches. Laius was pale. Aon hadn’t considered how the Carse would affect him while he waited. He kept eyeing the marsh and dancing in place. It was as if he
wanted
to be afraid but had no idea how. She pointed to a patch of grass across the road.
    â€œWhy don’t you wait over there?” she said. “Farther away.”
    Laius didn’t need to be told twice. He hugged the hourglass close to his chest and scurried to the clearing.
    Aon clenched her teeth. She was used to the Carse’s effects, but not immune. She nodded at Laius. “One hour.”
    Laius turned the hourglass upside down. Before she lost her nerve, Aon plunged into the Carse.
    One . . . two . . . three . . .
    She held her lantern out at arm’s length. The bog was pitch-black during the brightest of days. It hardly seemed possible it could be darker at night. And it
wasn’t
darker.
    But it
was
creepier.
    Twelve . . . thirteen . . . fourteen . . .
    Every sound—the snapping of twigs beneath her feet, the breeze caressing the moss-laden tree branches—issued an ominous warning. Everything about this place had a single message:
Get out
.
    It took all of Aon’s concentration not to run from the Carse back to Laius. She focused on the image of her mother’s face, the one she summoned each night before bed. She imagined what it would be like to be reunited with her father. Both tricks gave her the power to walk forward, inch by inch.
    A twisting path of rounded earth served as the only way into the Carse. On either side of the winding trail, viscous ponds the color of tar burbled, spewing gray gas that mixed with the noxious mist all around. Aon held a damp cloth to her mouth to fend off the familiar stench of spoiled milk and olive juice. Fear coursed inside her like a ferocious summer gale, hot and relentless. She turned her head to listen hard for the singing. Yes, if she could just hear the song that filled her . . . But even that fervent wish couldn’t distract her from the overwhelming urge to leave.
    Aon reached into her pocket and clutched the royal crest she’d received from Jeniah. She drew strength from the thought that she was here on a mission from the princess.
    It wasn’t enough. Retreating from the Carse was more than an urge now. It was a need.
    Why did I think I could do this?
she asked herself. She’d tried over and over to explore the Carse. Entering in the name of the Queen Ascendant hadn’t changed anything. It hadn’t made her any braver. The crest hadn’t given her Jeniah’s immunity. She was doomed.
    No!
She stopped alongside the hook-shaped rock, unable