Triumph of the Elderoak (Daughter of the Earth #3)

Prologue

Drip. Drip. Drip.

What was that noise?

Drip...drip.

A tapping. Something rhythmic.

A groan slipped from Casimir’s lips. Make it stop. But it wouldn’t.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

The tapping was right beside his ear. A relentless drumbeat. Forcing his eyes open, he looked at the stone ceiling. The dripping still would not cease. It was going to drive him mad. His gaze followed the droplet of water as it fell from above, hitting his head.

Over and over and over again.

A violent shiver racked his body, chains rattling. His shoulders ached, his arms pulled taut above him.

Where was he?

Time had vanished. Did it ever even exist?

He shuddered, forcing himself to look around.

A cave. He was in a cave. But why?

The cavern was dark, his vision fuzzy. His head pounded, throbbed. Another groan as he tried to remember. But the memories slipped away the moment he tried to grasp them, like ink on wet paper, blurring and running together. He was supposed to do something…But he forgot.

He forgot everything.

Goosebumps peppered his arms. But he wasn’t cold. He was hot. An inferno on his skin, yet he couldn’t stop shivering. Fever. He had a fever. Was he wearing clothing? He didn’t think so. He looked down. Oh. Pants, but nothing else.

Bruises upon bruises upon bruises covered his torso. Open wounds. Cuts and burns. Some of them festered with infection. A canvas of agony and torment.

And the smell. Excrement and mold hung thick in the air as Casimir tried to take a deep breath.

Ouch.

Breathing felt like thorns in his lungs and knives in his sides. Everything fucking hurt. Maybe he was going to die. Perhaps he was already dead.

Footsteps, slow and steady, echoed far off in the cave.

Someone was coming.

A torch on the wall illuminated the figure emerging from the darkness. Raven hair and icy blue eyes, wearing all black with his hands clasped behind his back. Who was he?

Casimir couldn’t remember that either.

“Still hanging on, I see,” the man said, his voice smooth and sensual, yet full of power. Full of something dark. Ancient. Vile.

Who was this man? Familiar. He was…familiar.

Casimir had a vague recollection of shadows and screams. His own screams. Searing pain. Feminine laughter. The smell of burning flesh. The taste of copper on his tongue. A wave of nausea almost overtook him at the memories.

But as he stared into those blue eyes, another image took shape. This same man, holding a woman. Shadows writhed around her. Strawberry blonde hair and the greenest eyes. Terror on her face. A knife to her throat. A whimper as she trembled.

What happened?

“She’s on her way,” the man purred, tilting his head with the utmost of grace. “It didn’t take long for her to learn where you were.”

Who was on her way? This woman?

He tried to remember her. Knew he must. She was important somehow.

The man came closer, stopping inches from Casimir’s face. His lips formed a serpentine smile. Shadows inched their way from the man and writhed around him, the man commanding them with no effort as they crawled toward Casimir.

But who was the woman?

“I think I’ll make you watch.” The shadows darkened the space even further, the torches now a haze in the distance. “When we drain her blood to bring the rest of our armies over.”

Drain whose blood? Who was she? Who was the woman? He repeated it in his head. Remember her. You must remember.

“Your fear will taste delicious as you watch your soulbond die right in front of you.”

Soulbond? Was the woman his soulbond? Yes. That’s who she was.

An image came to him. A flash of her delicate freckled face. Two palms sliced with a dagger, joining. A spoken prayer. Shimmering threads weaving together.

His love. His Miraêl Li’ra.

Ava.