The last thing I expected to see when we arrived at Ducoria was a ghost town. The last thing I expected to smell was blood and that of decay. The last thing I expected to hear was utter silence, sliced through by the cawing of crows and yipping of coyotes through the streets.

I slide down off the saddle of the king's horse and hold my breath. Ducoria is laid out before us, but something is different. Something is wrong. The city that built itself on the horrors of isolation, thievery, and lies is no longer that. With ease, I remember what it was like to be here the first time and it wasn't this.

  We weren't greeted by nothing, by silence. Ducoria was waiting for us, it seemed, at that point in time when Renit and I came in search of the boxes. The people were actively watching us and searching over our belongings for anything they could snatch quickly. Rats meat veiled as beef was cooked over a fire and the smell was horrid, but people ate it for that was all they had.

The sight of the city was never splendid. Truthfully, after I left, I never wanted to come back. The endless rows of tarps and knapsacks hanging as curtains around merchant stalls were a mess, and even more so now. The buildings were leaning, but at least that is the same. Whatever came through here...it's not good.

Already, my mind is calculating and trying to take in everything before us. Renit comes to my side, furrowing his brows as he views a similar distaste to what is before me. We smell it; we see it; we hear it. Ducoria is dead.

Like a slap to the face, I'm hit with the reminder of what the king's soldier told me before I impaled him. The leader of Esaria would always be one step before us and there was someone within our ranks that was a spy for him. Not anyone I'm with at the moment, Bren's only hatred during childhood was the king for killing his family. He'd never side with such a cruel leader. Someone else, then. There's someone back in Arego that fed the king this information...but how? How could that information be transmitted so fast that they managed to get to Ducoria before us?

We left as soon as we could.

I take careful steps into the mud streets, that I quickly realize are not mud. Lifting my boot out of a puddle, it's clear from the blue sky overhead that I just stepped in a giant puddle of blood. The trail leaks from an alleyway and the heap of a body slumped against the side of a building. Dead. This is fresh. Every stench here, it couldn't have been more than a day ago.

Either the king was here...or he's achieved a new level of power that allows him to be there with his soldiers without actually being there in the first place. That has to be it. If he was able to deliver a message through one of his men, is it possible he was speaking and not the soldier in front of me?

My blood runs cold and my skin snakes over with chills. That's how he did this, then. If I'm correct, the king is viewing life through the eyes of his men and, therefore, cutting out the need for delivery of message. That's how he did this so quickly. Someone, whether a spy merely passing through or an infiltrator, caught word of what we planned to do, and with the remainder of their forces, struck Ducoria first.

The farther I walk into the streets, the worse the smell becomes. Coyotes, sensing the arrival of someone stronger and with a drive for blood, apparently, scatter and head back from where they came. I pull a handkerchief over the bottom half of my face and avoid stepping on anything I don't want to sink my toes into.

Renit and Bren are my eyes and ears at this moment. I'm too blind and too deaf to think about the right procedures to go about protecting myself. My entire being is filling with rage in the shade of red, of the king's blood, and I don't realize I'm shaking until my knees are wobbling and my hands won't clench into fists without a brutal effort.

The more and more bodies we come across, the easier it is to believe the king's plan. By taking down Ducoria and killing their residents, he checked one item on the list. We planned to strengthen our forces, his goal is to weaken them. Is it possible the soldiers we came across on the way to Ducoria are the same soldiers that did this?

No, the forces had to be stronger than that.

I stop in my tracks, directly in a mud puddle swirling with red. "He's going to Saebia," I whisper underneath the handkerchief.

"What?" Renit demands.

I whirl to face them both, finding bows clasped in both their hands and arrows nocked at the ready in case someone is waiting along the tops of the straw roofs. I wouldn't be surprised if the king left some of his men behind to clean up further mess of our arrival. But if he wants to play games, that doubt is still in my mind.

"We didn't come across an entire legion of soldiers, did we?" I ask, finally dropping that handkerchief. The rotten smell of decaying bodies makes my head spin.

Renit and Bren exchange a silent, questionable look before shaking their heads.

"He's going east, but he's taking the southern route. He will send his men to Flitsea, and from there, attack Saebia before we can get there." I let out an annoyed, exasperated growl and slam my boot onto the dirt street. Well, mud street. "He's ensuring our forces don't strengthen. That's why Ducoria has been slaughtered." I throw an arm back to the street as if the heaps of bodies are directly behind me.

Renit slackens his bow. "That's impossible. How is he up to pace with our plans?"

"The king's soldier in the woods said he was one step ahead. It's possible the king is able to view through the eyes of his men and not only deliver messages like the one I was given—" I press a shaking palm against my chest "—but to get this done without a middleman. All he has to do is send his soldiers out and through the bond of the potion, tell them where to go next once he's realized our plan. He's going to Saebia."

The flaring of Renit's nostrils tells me two things. One, the king was technically here. He promised to keep the king away from me and that was a lie—in his mind. Two, we're losing our ability to expand our forces by every second.

"We have little time to waste," Bren reiterates. "We'll search for survivors and ask what caused this. Once we're done, we head back to Arego as fast as we can and gather half our forces to head for Saebia. We're going to need everyone on this."

Bren departs, heading through an alleyway that isn't occupied by the heap of multiple bodies. He doesn't have any special attachment to this city. But Renit does. I dare to look at him, finding his skin pale and his hands clammy with sweat when I interlace my fingers with his own. As if my touch brings him back to reality, he blinks three times and takes a deep breath. Darlene lived here and her family did, too. I know what he's thinking without having to ask.

What if they were slaughtered, too?

"I can go check, if you want," I say quietly. A crow squawks overhead, sitting perched at the point of a building's roof. The bird cocks its head at us, shifts its claws, and spreads its wings for flight. It's wondering why we're standing and every other witch is lying in the city, scattered throughout and motionless.

"No, I'll go with you. I need to see for myself." His fingers slide out of mine but I don't take it personally. The dread is visible in his eyes.

We head in that direction, towards the outskirts of Ducoria that will lead us towards Darlene's residence. She hasn't been here since Renit recruited her to the castle and her parents are still residing within the house. But with the king's sentencing, it could all be over.

I'm preparing myself for the worst.

The farther we get into Ducoria, the clearer the carnage is. The residents attempted to put up a fight, evident so by the weapons lying motionless in their unfurled grips, next to their bodies stained with one fatal wound or the next. They sit slumped against the sides of buildings, their clothes stained with blood and ripped, the fabrics they wore last being torn. It was likely the only thing they had.

Some lay outright in the streets, arms and legs spread out around them. I close the eyes of those that are still open, the victims that suffered before they died. Their skin is grimy and smells of death, but I do it anyway. I wouldn't want my body decaying in the middle of the street, my eyes unseeing to the blue sky above my head.

Nevertheless, I can't find the strength to say it's a beautiful day. I thought so on the way here and had ignored the smell the closer we came to Ducoria. I thought it to be the unfamiliar smell of rat meat until I witnessed the blood and silence. I was wrong. This is worse; so much worse.

Fires were started in buildings and smoke still rises from the ashen remains. The coals are hot, meaning the fires started and ended not too long ago, but anyone inside is no longer breathing. They're not a form at all, rather than that of charred bones.

Some victims still hold the weapons that caused their wounds. The handles of knives and daggers, the embroidered pommel of a sword that is too fancy to belong to someone of such a low standard. The Ducorians never cared for luxury if they weren't selling it to begin with. They had no use other than for a simple sword to protect themselves and now that I'm viewing this destruction, I can tell that wasn't good enough.

They were unprepared. Ducoria has remained off the king's radar for hundreds of years. He has allowed them to do what they wished, no matter how sickly or bloody it was. He believed they had no purpose, and it wasn't until I mentioned their use that it became an all out desperation to end their lives right here and now. They never stood a chance.

The residents of Ducoria are not the only victims to the fight. We come across few of the king's men, weapons thrust into their being or their throats slit. But along with their bodies comes a Ducorian, as if the king's soldier died, only for the killer to whirl and come face to face with another set of black and red armor.

Not only were they unprepared, but they were outnumbered.

How many soldiers did the king send? If the few bodies littering the city are anything of an example, he brought too many for me to count. A black and red wave of soldiers, varying strengths and powers, all laying waste to what is the darkest and sneakiest city in the kingdom. Now it's gone. All the hard work the residents endured to ensure they were safe and well-kept—it's all gone.

We come across no life. If there is any life to name, they're hiding or have long since escaped to find a safer place to reside. Ducoria is no longer that. The silence leaves me little hope for what we'll find in Darlene's residence, if her parents have survived this long or if they're long gone and heading for safer tides across the ocean. Anywhere is safer than here.

The trail leading outside of Ducoria is otherwise untouched. Few bodies litter with arrow wounds in their backs as some attempted to flee. Renit silently checks their faces and moves on when he realizes they don't belong to who he is looking for.

The closer we get, the louder my heart thumps in my chest. Bren has since accompanied us once he failed to find a source of information from the dead bodies; not a single living person came across his path to beg for help. So this is our next best option. If we can't look to this; if Darlene's parents are dead—I don't know what we'll do other than rush back to Arego and gather every strength we have.

We're sailing to Saebia and we'll save what's left of that kingdom. It's the only choice we have. The safest choice.

Nestled in the cover of trees and thick brush, we come across the silent and untouched residence. There are no bodies here, none that we can see, and the entire forest surrounding the small cottage is holding its breath to see if someone is actually alive within. Mudded footprints surround the front yard but those could've been from days ago before this hell was unleashed.

Renit doesn't expect someone to answer his knock. So he avoids it. The knob turns easily in his hand—the door is unlocked—and he steps into the entryway. The first floorboard creaks underneath his boot and I follow in after him, squinting against the dark room. Dark curtains cover the windows and not a single candle is flickering. That's not good.

My only hope is that I don't smell the death that Ducoria's streets hold so—

A cry erupts from our left and Renit ducks out of the way of a sword aiming for his head. I draw mine in a second, slamming my muddy boot into the stomach of who stumbles forward, out of the dark, and I knock the sword out of their hands rather easily. Like they don't have strong skill with a weapon.

They stumble back, their shoulders slamming against the wall, and I position my dagger at their throat. Panting, innocent eyes wide, I come face to face with who we've been looking for.

Darlene's mother. She's alive.