Chapter 45
Nelle
Istood on the rooftop of the rookery, alone and terrified.
Not for myself.
This time I was terrified for Graysen.
All that spun within my mind was his sister’s words in an endless eddy—When he returns, he won’t be the same. You won’t recognize him!
I’d handed Graysen over without fighting for him. He wanted me to give him up, to escape the estate and his family alone, and I could if I put my mind to it.
I possessed the mites chewing their way through Zrenyth’s collar.
I knew where the escape tunnel lay beneath the Keep.
All I needed was the key to get past the wall blocking it.
Wild wind rose around me, tugging at my loose hair as I squared my shoulders, rallying my spirits. I was going to escape—but I was going to take Graysen with me on wings of wrathful fire, and I’d reduce the Keep and his aunt to silver ash on our way to freedom.
But with Graysen gone from sight, doubt sowed its seeds inside my resolve.
Time ticked by slowly, and an eerie quiet descended, broken only by the murmur of the threatening figures below as they paced the perimeter.
The Crowthers had left behind a deadly band of soldiers to guard the rookery.
Their presence would keep me from escaping, and now I was trapped in a siege.
I had neither food nor water. No blankets to protect me from the cold. My only company was Sage and the Birds of Prey—wraith-like creatures that couldn’t provide any kind of warmth.
And right in my line of sight loomed the Keep. The old-world stronghold blended into the night, sinister and immense. A fortress of darkness and impossible to breach.
With every breath, every beat of my faltering heart, my confidence crumbled.
How could I save Graysen?
How was I supposed to face off against the lethal might of his family and win?
It was impossible.
I was just a girl in a tattered dress, hiding like a terrified shadow within a rookery.
My shoulders shuddered as plump teardrops welled and fell, burning a salty path down my chilled cheeks as I spiraled into bleak despair. Despite what I’d promised Graysen, I’d never be able to save him.
Sage licked my fingertips, letting out an uneasy whine.
But what could I do against the Crowthers?
Surely they’d recapture me quickly.
This time they wouldn’t hesitate to throw me into a dungeon and banish every trace of brightness so completely I’d fall prey to my terror of the dark. My mind would shatter into shards, and I’d become catatonic in the absence of light.
As I wept, sniffling and wallowing in wretched helplessness, something stirred deep inside me. The sensation was so weak and faint that I wasn’t sure if I felt anything at all or if I was imagining it.
I stilled, turning my mind inward and concentrating.
For several long minutes, nothing.
And then it came again.
A coil.
A rasping sensation.
The barest touch of something scratchy sliding around bone, and a faint rumble in the darkness of my very being like the first grumble of faraway thunder.
I speared every sense into that deep well inside me, as if I were a vast abyss, reaching toward whatever resided at its pit.
I heard it then—a thready, rasping voice, straining against oppressive magic, fighting to be heard from within the deep void.
And my wyrm spoke faintly into my mind.
Hello, tiny little thing.
Thank you for reading CAGED BY FALLEN CROWS - PART TWO!