Chapter 38
Chapter Thirty Eight
The world was one of flame. Tortuously hot as smoke marred the air and burned my eyes. It choked me as I fought to force breath into my lungs. It was all I could see, the reds and oranges of a blazing fire. Darkness curved around me as shadows crawled over my skin and shielded my eyes.
“Have you forgotten already?” They asked. The hissing loud and all-encompassing, no longer within my mind as they echoed in the raging landscape all around.
I couldn’t speak. My voice, my screams were stuck in my throat. All I could feel was flame.
“Have you forgotten what happened that night, little shadow?”
And then I was flying, my body felt as though it were being torn in two through time and space. When it stopped, I heaved. My stomach trying to rid the nausea that overwhelmed me as I clung to cold stone. Silver hair cascading over my shoulders—
Silver hair.
I panicked, stumbling, but the shadows held me in place.
“Watch,” they crooned, dark tendrils turning my head. I knew this alleyway. Panic surged deep in my chest and I tried to shake from their tight grip, to rip myself from their grasp. “Watch! And see. Remember where it is you came from.”
My mother was dragged by her silver hair from our home, the faces of friends and neighbors huddled together blurred as tears streaked down my cheeks. A keening wail built in my throat as my knees threatened to give, but the shadows held me aloft—refusing to let me look away.
The cold. Goddess, it was so cold as the snow seeped through my patched, worn coat. The buttons were to my throat, too tight as I struggled to breathe.
“Your greed sickens us, little shadow-blessed.” They were a maelstrom around me, pushing and slithering all over my body as she was tied to the stake. “First to spill the blood. First to light the pyre. What would your mother say of your desire? To covet the one they call Kinslayer.”
Stop!
My mind begged, pleaded. Please, stop this.
But my voice would not work as the courtyard was consumed in an all-encompassing flash of blessed flame. I tried to scream, to thrash, anything to escape the horror before me.
Why’re you doing this?
I wanted to ask, to beg as I watched skin bubble and melt, peel from the bodies of people I had once known. And in the midst of them, there she was, a beacon that my eyes could not leave. My beautiful mother thrashing against that stake, her eyes upon the moon as the fire consumed her.
“We are you and you are us,” they soothed, “this guilt is your own.”
Suddenly I was before the pyre and the fire was gone.
A cold wind brushed my cheeks as my body shook.
Though my mother remained tied to the stake, her skin and flesh were little more than charred remains.
Only wisps of her silver hair remained, brittle and breaking as ash fell all around.
Her head turned and my eyes screwed shut as her voice—her beautiful, soft voice—croaked out, “To burn is to be cleansed, little shadow. To die is to be reborn, child. A girl lost and forgotten shall be found. For a boy scorned and risen from ash, a choice lies in wait. A war threatens to overtake, the catalyst or the peace? It is yet to be foreseen.”
She spoke the prophecy like a cursed chant, a thing of terror and pain. Tears were slick upon my cheeks as I refused to open my eyes, my head shaking.
I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I wanted to scream it, to cry it. To let her know every regret and heartbreak I had experienced over and over for leaving her upon that damned stake.
“Show him the power you behold, child.” The shadows whispered. “Let him see the darkness that consumes your soul. See if he will tie you to the stake before your heart is to break.”
I woke up with a start to sweat slicked skin and a racing heart. My breath released in a puff of frost as I choked on frigid air, a sob sticking in my chest. I scrambled from the blankets, pushing the tent flap open as I crawled upon hands and knees out onto the snow covered forest floor.
My eyes were immediately met with a blazing fire and I flinched back, breaths coming harsh as I fought for my lungs to fill with air.
Please not again. Pleasepleaseplease—
“Syra?”
That voice, Goddess, that voice. A hand found my back and I realized with that steady touch that I was shaking, my whole body convulsing as I lay curled against the frozen ground, my face buried in my arms to block out the flame.
“Syra,” it came softer now, the hand rubbing soothing circles over my back, gentle and caring. “Look at me, little menace.”
With hesitation I lifted my head, immediately finding silver and green. A sob finally broke free as I scrambled out of the snow and flung my arms around him, burying my face against his chest. I felt his own arms band around me, tighten.
“What scared you?” He asked, voice a low murmur, soothing.
My head shook, tears falling freely. “There’s something wrong in these woods, Roan. I—I can’t explain, but it—it’s messing with my dreams, my thoughts. I can’t think properly.”
“Look at me.” He said again and I shook my head, my terror still clinging to me. “Look at me.”
His voice changed then, twisted and slithering and I froze, fear oily and slick racing shivers up my spine.
“Face your guilt, little menace.”
I pulled back, freeing myself from the grasp and screamed.
Roan. His handsome face was contorted into a sneer, skin peeling where fresh burns blistered and bubbled his flesh. His face twisted in an expression of such utter disgust that I flinched back.
“Your guilt, your fears,” the shadows raced through the trees, across the snow littered ground.
Surrounding me as this—this thing tilted its head and smiled, sinister and horrible.
“They all tie together, don’t they? Two souls chained to their pasts.
You fear he won’t accept you, but you fear more that you can’t accept him, isn’t that right? ”
My hands covered my ears, head shaking, my scream brittle. “Stop it! Stopstopstopstop—”
“When will you stop, little menace." They hissed through his mouth, tendrils of darkness escaping through his lips. “When will you face us. The time to cease running is coming, you must decide. Must decide.”
“We rage within you, no release.” They wailed now, pained and screeching. “No release. Building and building with nowhere to go. We will consume you if you do not—”
My eyes flew open to golden light, bright and burning as my throat rasped on a groan.
“Syra, are you awake?” Rena’s voice was panicked, the golden light sparkling from her palm wavering as her hazel eyes assessed me. The sob that wracked my body was deep, had my lungs quivering with the effort as I shook my head.
“No more,” I cried, “please, not again.”
“You need to get up.” Rena was pulling at my arm then, hands shaking. “The nightmares aren’t real, Syra. It’s some sort of creature feeding from our deepest fears.”
I stumbled from the tent after her, and our little camp was already in ruins–tents torn, supplies scattered, chaos wrecking through the small clearing.
My eyes found Roan first, heart pounding in my chest.
Thick black liquid was smeared against his skin and clothing, both of swords in his hands–moving like extensions of his own body, brutal and precise.
Snow and ice churned around him in a violent orbit, his blessed magic a shield and a weapon all at once.
A creature lunged and he didn’t even turn.
One blade flashed back, severing a leg mid-strike, the other driving clean through its body.
It didn’t stop moving.
It shrieked as it thrashed upon the snow covered forest floor. Its wicked looking pincers snapping wildly until a spike of ice drove up through its underside, pinning it in place.
I didn’t have time to watch him finish it.
I spotted Bran as I drew my daggers, my cousin locked into a fight of his own.
The creature eyeing him was monstrous. Shaped like the common house spiders that hide in the dusty spots of the potions shop, but the size of a goddess-damned boulder.
Its eight spindly legs stabbed into the frozen earth like spears, each step cracking frozen ground.
Its pincers snapped inches from his face, dripping with that same foul black substance Roan was covered in.
Bran ducked one strike, but the second clipped his shoulder, sending him stumbling back.
“Bran!”
He recovered quickly, teeth bared, driving his sword—his fathers sword—up through the creature's underside. It pierced deep, but the beast only shrieked, rearing back.
Ice slammed into it from the side. Roan.
The creature buckled just enough for Bran to rip his blade free and spin clear of its reach. Snow and ice surrounded him too, thinner, uneven–Roan stretching himself to shield them both. The memory of his oath to Merle slamming into me.
Another shriek cut through the night.
A burst of Rena’s golden light raced past me, warm and blinding as she ran towards Kairen. He was surrounded, three of the creatures circling. One darted in, fast as a viper, forcing him to give ground. Another came from the side.
Rena’s light flared brighter, cutting through the darkness—burning into one of the creatures, but the other two adjusted quickly. Closing the gap, far smarter than any inhuman creature should be.
I moved to help, until I heard it.
Loud and sharp, to the left—a clicking sound.
I immediately dropped, rolling. Heart racing.
The creature hit where I’d been standing only seconds before, its weight slamming into the ground hard enough to send a jolt through my bones. Snow burst into the air. One of its legs punched deep into the frozen earth, embedding there for half a second too long.
I scrambled to my feet, boots slipping as I hauled myself upright. Heart hammering against my ribs. That hit would’ve sliced me right in half—Nine Hells.
It yanked its leg free with a sickening crack and turned on me.
One of my daggers soared end over end through the air striking and burying in a cluster of one of the damn things many blinking eyes.
The creature shrieked and recoiled, but it didn’t fall.
“Shit—”
I dove to the side, pain ripping through my shoulder as I hit the ground wrong. Cold flooded my senses, snow in my mouth, down my collar, stealing my breath even as the adrenaline surged.
The thing stilled for a moment, my dagger still embedded as it reoriented and tracked my fall. Both of us froze for only a moment.
Just as it lunged I rolled, quick but precise. My hand clamping around one of its legs just as it slammed into the earth. The chitin sliced into my palm, my blood slick even as my grip stayed firm. My second dagger drove upwards slicing into the joint.
It resisted for a fraction of a second before I threw all my force into it, a growl leaving my lips with the effort. Then it snapped.
The leg buckled with a sickening crack. The creature collapsed to one side, thrashing violently, pincers snapping inches from my face. I wrenched the first dagger free from its skull and plunged it down again. Once, twice, a third time, and then finally, it burst.
The whole body ruptured. Thick oily blackness spraying across my face and chest. It hit hot, reeking, and clinging to my skin like tar. I gagged, stumbling back, wiping at my eyes.
What the fuck is going on?
There wasn’t time to reorient. To assess.
My gaze cut across our camp-turned-battlefield. Everything was chaos drowning in movement, magic, the clicking of those awful pincers. My heart pounded too fast, my hands still trembling with the lingering terror of those dreams.
A breath. I’m awake.
Another. I’m alive.
The words looped like mantra in my head, grounding me to the present, to the reality of the battle that still needed to be fought.
Something skittered past me, far too close.
I pivoted, blade slashing low. Steel glazing off chitin, the impact jarring all the way up to my shoulder. The creature spun, pincers gnashing, one leg slicing across my thigh. Not deep, but enough to burn.
A hiss escaped my lips as I took a half-step back as it pressed forward. Not mindless, but relentless. What in Soli’s wrath are these things?
I feigned left. It followed.
My lips curved.
I shifted right at the last second and drove my blade up beneath its body where the armor of its ecoskeleton thinned. This time my dagger sank deep. The creature convulsed, legs thrashing and stabbing erratically before it collapsed at my feet and exploded in another spray of thick, black ooze.
Another lunged from behind, my body turning seconds too late—
Ice speared through it midair, shattering it apart before it could descend upon me.
Roan again. I didn’t look for him, couldn’t.
The fight stretched for far too long. Every time one fell, another seemed to take its place. My arms ached, my lungs burned, every movement slower than the one before. It felt like hours had passed, maybe they had.
And then finally, blissfully…silence.
My body sagged under the weight of my exhaustion.
Gaze dragging over what was left of our camp.
Our horses lay dead around the clearing, my gaze quickly flitting away from them as my stomach turned.
My herbs from the last market scattered from my bag and covered with that disgusting secretion. Clothing laying about, supplies ruined.
Black ooze coated nearly everything. The smell alone had my stomach turning.
My gaze lifted from the ruined possessions, immediately finding Roan.
Searching for any sign of injury and relief shot through me when nothing appeared fatal.
His swords hung loose at his sides, chest heaving with each sharp rise and fall of his chest. His eyes were already locked on me–scanning for any injury that same way I had been.
The relief was short lived as the memory of his face—burnt and blistered—in my nightmare came rearing back. My stomach dropped.
I turned away too fast. The nausea surged instantly. I barely made it a few steps before I doubled over, vomiting into the snow. My whole body shaking as tears blurred my vision.
A hand settled on my back, but it wasn’t Roan.
Bran.
His touch was light and soothing as he shook ooze from his boot. “What in the Nine Hells were those things?”
“Dread feeders,” Kairen spat on the ground, his mouth twisting with rage. “They feed upon your fear, your despair. Creatures of dark magic that infiltrate your dreams and manipulate them to satiate their hunger.”
“Goddess, I hope we never run into them again.” Rena whispered, arms hugging around her waist, her body trembling.
No one slept again that night.
All of us sat quietly around the fire, cleaning our bodies and belongings of the black goo left behind. No one spoke another word until the faint light of dawn broke over the horizon.