When we arrived here last night, I didn't think it was possible for Ducoria to get any uglier. Yet, as the sun rises and light streams through the mud-filled streets of this twisted city, I find that it is possible for the shadows to hide more than expected.

Every grim detail is illuminated by the light of day. More blood stains, more urine and feces thrown in the streets, more trash that no one will bother to pick up. Along with that, an endless number of rats scurry about. I try to avoid cringing at as we ride through the streets on the saddles of our horses.

Not only is the entire city discovered in the daylight but the same goes for us and the citizens. Faces are clear, revealing dark tattoos over their visible skin. Most have ink on their faces or down their necks to tell a story that I don't have the opportunity to understand. Same as Renit's tattoo, these people tell a story. At least the prince keeps his artwork fresh and clean.

The citizens of Ducoria have a lack of care for hygiene. Their clothes are covered in mud from the days walking through the alleys and over rooftops to scout and steal what others will miss the chance on. Patches have been stitched on and most are falling off, revealing bits of mud-splattered or infected flesh from previous wounds. I've seen one too many burn marks from hot blades to stop the bleeding.

I doubt there are proper healers around here—if there are, they have their hands full for the rest of their lives. Ducoria is a ticking explosion waiting to smoke the entire kingdom and the king will do nothing about the conditions they've put themselves in. At least I thought so, until Renit told me his father considered mass execution for those that wouldn't clean up their act.

But that was hundreds of years ago and nothing came of it. I was glad to hear that.

These people have survived long without the presence of good graces from the capital. No one wants to trade here so visiting merchants don't intrude when they'll likely be stolen from rather than receive the proper payment for their wares. All trading that happens inside Ducoria is from the residents themselves and whatever they've managed to scrounge up amongst each other. Mostly stolen items, evident by the few brawls that have already broken out.

Renit was there to break them up and all brawls were the result of stealing. One accusing the other and punches were thrown. The prince didn't involve himself further but promised that the kingdom was watching, if they wanted to keep themselves hidden from the watchful eye of the king then they would mind their matters.

He received strange looks rather than people obeying. There are guards stationed in Ducoria but they've long abandoned their posts. Instead, they drown themselves in the unhealthy luxuries this city provides. They live in intact estates on the outskirts, what the Ducorians consider to be the 'high waste' of the population.

The only difference between the guards and the Ducorians is the king's men are paid to live in such a terrible place. Allowance is sent monthly from the king, more than those guards would ever need, and the citizens don't see one copper coin of it. I'm surprised they haven't stolen the pay for themselves.

But that all goes back to keeping their heads down low to avoid the king's eye. If they keep themselves in line, all the while living in a mess, the king will never turn their way. They're smarter than they look, considering one of them managed to steal the dagger from the sheath at my hip and I didn't notice until hours later.

Renit promised to buy me a new one, in Lona, where the finest blacksmiths spend their days. The city of the reject witches. Every time I think about going there, a shiver grips my spine and shakes hard. My power will not stand up to the strength of theirs and I hate to say it but, Renit's won't either. All alone in a place that searches for fights around every corner, the prince will find his hands full protecting us from those that wish to hunt.

How Darlene could have ever lived here is beyond me. From the way Renit describes her and the way I've seen her, she appeared to be innocent. I can't imagine her in the streets of Ducoria, stealing from those that wouldn't suspect her for a thief.

But I can see quick, small hands that move in the blink of an eye. Then she's gone before anyone can realize she was ever there in the first place. The more I think about it, the more Darlene would have fit right into this place. She was innocent, had carried that look with her until the day she died, but there were secrets behind those sapphire eyes.

Renit clearing his throat distracts me from my thoughts and I turn to look at him, acknowledging the bruised rings around his eyes and the small, red cut at the bridge of his nose. After I cleaned him up at the inn room, Renit reset his nose himself and allowed his body to heal what he couldn't do on his own. One of the perks of being immortal.

Very slowly, his immortality will heal the broken nose and rid his handsome face of the bruises. By the time we reach the next box, hopefully. Renit doesn't want to exhaust his power too much so he heals slowly, in case we run into trouble—like more robbers. If the Blood Desert was notorious for criminals, then Ducoria has to be worse.

"We're almost there," Renit warns. He looks from the book to the trial ahead that snakes through the forest on the outside of the city. Every once in a while, I take glances back to check if anyone is following us but I have yet to see a soul.

Any residence out here has long been vacated and overtaken by the life of the forest around it. There were farms here once, fenced areas to hold animals and barns to milk cows and goats. Ghosts walk amongst us but they don't show their faces in fear of revealing the secrets of the past.

I wonder how many still living here remember Darlene, if they wonder what came of her after she left to the capital. Unlike the rest of them, she followed her dreams of living in a better place. At least she received love and a son from her efforts before her life ended—long before it should have.

The sun breaks through the branches of the trees, illuminating dry spots on the trail that is less frequently traveled. Heading in this direction, if we were to go far enough, would lead us to the Oxpea Mountains surrounding Lona. They're used to 'keep out outsiders' that shouldn't step close in the first place. We'll be trekking those mountains soon enough.

Renit touches two fingers to his nose and winces. "If you would heal yourself, it wouldn't hurt," I scold.

"Your comments are best saved for another time. We're coming up on the well." He points towards a break in the forest, a trial that hasn't seen any travelers for years. Bushes and weeds stick up from where a clear dirt path once had been. Only remnants remain, a ghost of a location to those that wouldn't spot it if they weren't looking.

"There's no way we're fitting our horses through there." I dismount, tying the lead to a tree while Renit does the same. Already, the horses are distracted by the lush grass underneath their hooves. How a place so beautiful could merely be an hour away from such a disastrous city is beyond reason.

We're left with nothing but the clothes on our back, the book, and a rope that Renit believed we would need at one point or the other. He's carried it on this entire journey, across one end of the kingdom to the other. "The best travels are made on foot," Renit grunts as he lifts the rope over his shoulder. With a machete, Renit cuts through the weeds and thick brush in our way.

I follow after until we reach a clearing. The ground is covered in vines old and new. Low branches hide the sun and cloud out any bit of evidence that this place was ever habitable. I step around the prince to stand at the side of the stone well in the center of the clearing, bracing my hands on the loose edge. The stone wobbles underneath my hands and bits of debris skitter down the side, all the way to the bottom where a faint splash can be heard.

"I'll go down there," I offer.

Renit stops from where he had been unfurling the rope. "Not a chance. We don't know what's down there," he counters.

"There's nothing down there but the box and water, by the sound of it. Let me do it." I reach out for the rope but he snatches it away and hugs it tighter against his chest.

As he begins to wrap the rope around his thighs and then around his waist, he says, "Remember the last time I allowed you to retrieve the box in water? You drowned because you wouldn't come up for air. I'm not dragging you out from the bottom of a well because you won't get out of the water."

I groan. "This is different. The water is shallow, that's what the legend says. The box is buried in the sand at the bottom," I plead. I cup my hands together in front of my face and pout. That's not enough to get Renit to accept, he simply rolls his eyes and goes back to making complicated knots around his body.

"Don't listen to the legend. The water could be deep. We don't know." He moves to a tree and throws the rope around the thick trunk. This entire plan makes my stomach churn, I can't allow him to go down there. Even if I'm terrified of going down there myself, I'd rather me than him be the one that has to face the possible threats left behind from the original witches.

"There's a spell on the well. It can't lose water and it can't take on new water. You read the pages, too." I reach out and take the rope in my hand before Renit can tie it around the trunk. His hand falls short of snatching it back and he slouches, already exhausted by this argument.

The rope is tied tightly around his midsection and cuts through underneath his legs to create a strong harness. Still, if I were to go down there, we have a better chance of keeping that rope intact. Renit's mass is much heavier than my small frame.

He drags a hand through his hair. "That water is also poisonous. You read the pages, too." Renit reaches to snatch the rope but I lurch back, accidentally tugging him closer to the trunk. A move quicker than I would have been able to complete, he braces his hand against the bark before smacking his nose directly into the side.

I wince but keep my hold strong. "Please, let me do this. I'll tell you what I'm doing every step of the way. Besides, your power is dangerous with water. Mine isn't."

He sighs, a deep and exhausted release of a breath, and looks deep into my eyes to find the truth as to why I want to go down there instead of him. I wouldn't be trying so hard just because the thought of descending to my doom excites me, there's a further reason behind my pleading that he's looking for. I turn off every bit of emotion to my features and give the rope one final tug.

"Fine," he grumbles. "But you have to cooperate this time. Do not drink the water. Retrieve the box, and come right back up. Understand?"

I nod quickly as he begins to untie the knots he worked so carefully to craft. Once he's done, he wraps the rope around me and tightens those knots to perfection. Pulling on them five or six times seems to do the trick before tying the remainder of the rope around the trunk, knotted twice for extra safety.

Renit helps me to stand on a secure ledge of the well. I stare down into the depths, catching a glimmer of water, and take a deep breath. I try to keep my breathing steady as Renit turns me carefully so my back is facing the depths. "Brace your boots on the inner wall of the well. The rope will handle the rest," Renit instructs. "Lean back."

He presses a firm hand to my stomach and I do as he requests, leaning back so I'm over the well's ledge and hanging in the air with nothing to catch me. I take one last look at the sky breaking through the thick branches and begin my descent. My legs shake but I push firm onto the wall and keep a strong grip on the rope slowly lowering me.

Renit keeps me from falling at a fast rate, he holds onto the extra spools of rope and when I tug, he releases more to allow me down further. The deeper I go, the darker and colder it becomes. Mold and mildew clog my nose and the stone that is clean towards the ground quickly turns dark and a layer of moss that has long ago been seen covers the inside.

There is nothing down here, just the box, I tell myself. No monsters, no snakes, no spiders, no robbers. Nothing that will kill me except for poisonous water, that if I ingest, will kill me immediately. But otherwise...nothing.

My boot reaches the water first and I look back up, finding Renit peering over the ledge of the well. "I made it!" I shout.

He sticks out a thumb. "Feel down in the water, see if you can find sand!" He shouts back. That was what the book said, the water is merely a foot deep but underneath, a bed of sand lays, holding the box intact. I won't drown down here like Renit suspects, unless he believes me to be that stupid.

With my boots braced against the wall, I lean back and stick my arm in the freezing water. Nothing bites me and nothing sucks me in to die. My arm doesn't have to go far to find that sand, grimy and rough against my fingertips.

"I found the sand," I tell Renit.

My voice echoes to the top, as his does the same. It travels all the way down to me, ringing in my ears. Along with his voice, more small pebbles dribble down into the water beneath me. He gives me some slack and I drop my feet into the sand, immediately shivering as the cold, murky water seeps into my boots. It cannot hurt me if I don't drink it.

I begin feeling around immediately, running my hand along the surface to find the box. But there is nothing. I don't feel anything, meaning I'll have to go deeper to find the treasures underneath. The original witches did not make it easy, they wanted us to fight for these treasures—precisely why no one has tried to come down here themselves and retrieve something the king is looking for.

My hand closes around something hard and round. I tug but it doesn't budge. "Did you find it?" Renit shouts down.

"I think so," I grunt, tugging harder and harder. The sand closes around my hand, the particles digging into my skin like a bind, but I keep tugging. Whatever it is breaks free, and shoots up with my hand, clinging tight into my palm.

All breath leaves my lungs as I behold what is in my grip. Not a box housing a crystal meant to be delivered to the king. Instead, it's a skull, cleaned of skin and bone and severed from the rest of its body by my hand.