Chapter 26
The sky above us was the colour of old ash, heavy with clouds that seemed to press down on the world like a suffocating blanket.
Tarshi's dragon form cut through the air with powerful wingbeats, carrying me, Marcus, and Septimus toward what might be our salvation or our doom.
The weight of our supplies and weapons slowed our progress, but not as much as the weight of what I carried in my mind.
The shadows whispered constantly now.
They painted vivid pictures behind my eyes—how easy it would be to slip a tendril of darkness around Marcus's throat while he dozed, how satisfying it would be to hear his bones crack.
How Septimus's blood would look splattered across Tarshi's scales.
How simple it would be to reach across the gap between our mounts and drag Livia from Sirrax's back, watch her fall screaming toward the earth below.
I pressed my palms against my temples, trying to silence the voices, but they only grew louder.
The crystal in Antonius's pack called to me like a beacon, its alien song harmonizing with the darkness in my soul.
It was so close—mere yards away on Sirrax's back.
All I had to do was command the shadows to reach across the gap, tear it from his grasp, make it mine. ..
No. The word came out as a strangled whisper, earning concerned glances from my companions. I couldn't let them see how close I was to losing control completely. Couldn't let them know that every moment of this journey was an exercise in not murdering the people I loved most.
Below us, the landscape told a story of systematic destruction that made the shadows dance with approval.
Burned villages dotted the countryside like infected wounds, their blackened timbers reaching toward the sky like skeletal fingers.
The Empire's advance had been methodical, thorough—not just conquest, but annihilation.
"Gods," Marcus muttered, pointing toward a cluster of buildings that had been reduced to ash and rubble. "There's nothing left. They didn't even spare the wells."
I could smell the death rising from the ruins, could taste the lingering terror in the air. The shadows fed on it, growing stronger with each atrocity we witnessed. They showed me how beautiful it was, this artistry of destruction. How perfect the symmetry of total devastation could be.
A river wound through the valley below us, its waters dark with more than mud.
Bodies floated in the current like grotesque debris—men, women, children, livestock all mixed together in a soup of decay.
The stench reached us even at this altitude, making Septimus gag and Marcus curse under his breath.
Through the bond I shared with Livia, I felt her horror and rage at the sight.
But underneath her disgust was something else—a cold fury that resonated with the darkness in my mind.
She wanted revenge as much as I did. The shadows whispered that I could give it to her, could rain death on the Empire until nothing remained but beautiful, perfect silence.
"The dragons," I said suddenly, my voice cracking with strain. "I can feel them."
Marcus leaned forward. "What do you mean?"
"The collared ones. They're screaming." I pressed my hands harder against my skull, but it did nothing to muffle the psychic agony bleeding through whatever connection existed between shadow magic and the Empire's enslaved beasts.
"They don't want to kill. The collars are forcing them, and they're screaming inside their own minds. "
The pain of it was exquisite, a symphony of suffering that the shadows found intoxicating. They showed me how I could reach out, follow those connections, add my own darkness to the collared dragons' torment. Turn their anguish into rage, their despair into violence directed at their own handlers.
Marcus's hand landed on my shoulder, warm and grounding. "It must be the proximity of the crystal. It’s increasing your abilities. Focus on us," he said firmly. "Focus on right here, right now. Don't let it pull you under."
But 'here' and 'now' were becoming increasingly difficult concepts to grasp.
Time moved strangely when the shadows were ascendant—minutes stretching into hours, hours compressing into heartbeats.
The crystal's call grew stronger with each passing moment, its alien hunger matching the void that was slowly consuming my soul.
We made camp that first night in what had once been a prosperous farming village. The buildings still stood, but the people were gone—fled or taken, impossible to tell which. Mira's letter of introduction sat useless in Antonius's pack; there was no one left to show it to.
"They cleared them out," Septimus observed, running his fingers along scorch marks on a door frame. "This wasn't random destruction. This was systematic population removal."
"Slave markets," Marcus said grimly. "Or worse."
I sat apart from the others, staring at the crystal's faint glow through the fabric of Antonius's pack.
The shadows urged me to take it, to stop playing at being human and embrace what I truly was.
The restraint required to resist was becoming physically painful—my hands shook constantly now, and I'd started bleeding from my nose whenever the darkness surged.
That night, I dreamed of burning the world.
In the dream, I stood at the heart of a crystal cavern while darkness poured from my skin like black fire.
The shadows showed me every person I'd ever cared about writhing in agony as my power consumed them.
Livia's screams were particularly beautiful, the way they broke and reformed as I systematically destroyed everything that made her who she was.
I woke gasping, my bedroll soaked with sweat despite the cool night air. Across our small camp, Tarshi was watching me with worried eyes, and I realized I'd been laughing in my sleep.
The second day brought fresh horrors. We passed a crossroads where Imperial soldiers had left a warning—a dozen Talfen fighters nailed to wooden posts, their bodies left to rot as an example to anyone who might consider resistance.
Crows had been at them, but the message was still clear: this is what happens to those who defy the Empire.
"Animals," Livia's voice carried across the gap between our mounts, raw with fury.
The shadows agreed. Animals indeed. But I was something worse than an animal—I was a force of nature barely contained in human flesh. The darkness showed me how easy it would be to find the soldiers responsible, to teach them the true meaning of suffering before granting them the mercy of death.
"Taveth," Marcus’ voice cut through the violent fantasy. "Your shadows are visible."
I looked down and saw tendrils of darkness writhing around my hands like living things. With enormous effort, I forced them back beneath my skin, but not before earning fearful glances from my companions.
"Sorry," I managed to say, though the word felt foreign on my tongue. What was I apologizing for? For being what I was born to be? For carrying the power to make the Empire pay for its crimes?
That evening, we found shelter with a family that had somehow escaped the Imperial purges. They were hollow-eyed and skittish, jumping at every sound, but Mira's letter earned us a place by their meagre fire and a share of their thin soup.
Their youngest daughter, perhaps six years old, had burns up her left arm from dragon fire. She’d been lucky. She stared at me throughout the meal with the kind of innocent curiosity that made the shadows writhe with interest. She was so small, so fragile. It would be so easy to—
"Tell us about the sky," she said suddenly, her voice cutting through the darkness in my mind like a blade of pure light. "What does it look like from up there?"
I found myself describing the view from dragon back—cloud formations like mountain ranges, the way sunlight turned mist into gold, the sense of freedom that came from being truly alone with the wind. She listened with rapt attention, her eyes bright with wonder despite everything she'd endured.
When I finished, she smiled and said, "Thank you for fighting the bad people."
The simple trust in her voice nearly broke me. Here was a child who had lost everything to the Empire's cruelty, and she still believed in heroes. Still believed that someone would make things right.
The shadows showed me how easily I could betray that trust. How one small push of power could stop her heart, end her suffering forever. She'd never feel pain again, never know fear or loss or the crushing weight of hope repeatedly destroyed.
I excused myself and walked into the darkness beyond the farmhouse, my hands shaking so violently I could barely control them. The crystal's call was strongest when I was emotionally compromised, its alien hunger feeding on my despair and rage.
"Taveth?"
I turned to find Livia approaching, her expression cautious but determined. She'd seen the signs—the tremors, the way shadows leaked from my skin despite my efforts to contain them, the increasing periods where I seemed to be listening to voices only I could hear.
"You shouldn't be here," I said, backing away from her. "Not when I'm like this."
"Where else would I be?" She continued walking toward me, unafraid despite the darkness writhing around my feet. "You're my mate. My love. If you're in pain, I want to help."
"You can't help," I said desperately. "No one can.
The voices are getting stronger, Aeveth.
The things they want me to do..." I couldn't finish the sentence.
Couldn't tell her about the detailed fantasies of violence, the way the shadows showed me exactly how to hurt her in ways that would break her mind before her body gave out.
She reached for me anyway, her warm hands framing my face despite the chill that seemed to radiate from my skin. "Then tell me what they're saying. Share the burden."