4. Chapter 4
C reeping consciousness slowly stole away my dreams until I opened my eyes to a new dawn, perhaps even a new world. Orm’s arm rested on my hip, and my mind struggled to comprehend the changes it brought.
He had been different since Ani went missing, as though the loss had carved something vital out of him. I remembered how, after the fire at the boarding house, he’d come to my room, soot-streaked and exhausted, coaxing me to drink the honey-milk concoction for my damaged throat he’d sworn could heal anything. Then Tomma rushed in with the news, and everything fell apart.
Disbelief had struck Orm like a thunderclap, and I could do nothing but watch as shock and sorrow tore through him. His clothes were still scorched and smoke-stained from the fire, a testament to the fact he hadn’t spared a thought for himself that day. Yet when the realisation hit, the sound that escaped him was inhuman—a keening cry that still echoed in my mind.
‘I can’t feel her . . .’ he’d whispered, his voice broken. Golden flames engulfed his eyes, and the man I called my brother had roared like a beast.
The world seemed to pause, frozen in the wake of his anguish. Horror squeezed my heart as I understood the gravity of his words. Then Orm had stormed out, scattering those who tried to stop him. But the berserker couldn’t be tamed by men alone.
I’d known he loved Ani. I just hadn’t realised how deeply. Now, the man who loved as fiercely as dragon fire burned had kissed me.
The Orm of that night bore no resemblance to the peaceful giant sleeping beside me. His steady breaths brushed against my skin, his snoring a soothing rhythm that seemed to tether me to the moment. I let my hand trail over his chest, a part of me wishing he’d asked for more last night. I was ready to give him everything, but I knew it had to be his choice. For now, I was content—grateful—that his touch shielded me from the Lich King’s constant intrusion.
The room around us was serene, with its minimalist décor and tall window framing the night sky. But the scent of spilled plum wine and blood lingered, silent witnesses to my failed attempts to drown out the voices in my head. A cold autumn breeze slipped through the open window, raising goosebumps along my skin. Before I could reach for the blanket, Orm shifted, pulling me closer and pressing my back to his warmth.
‘No. Mine,’ he muttered, still lost in sleep. His arms tightened around me as he nuzzled my neck.
A small smile tugged at my lips. His breath tickled me, and I let myself sink into the comfort of his embrace. Just as sleep began to reclaim me, the silver runes etched into my chest flared to life, burning through my mind like fire.
Something pulled at my awareness, a viscous net wrapping around me, paralysing me and pulling me under.
Hrae! Dreamwalkers! My heart pounded as I fought the compulsion. Why now?
I tried to resist, pouring every ounce of willpower into strengthening my mental defences. Casting a counterspell was impossible, but I refused to yield. The net tightened, dragging me further into the dreamwalker’s construct. Just as despair began to set in, a voice rang out, and time ground to a halt.
‘ Ari. Alaric. Please stop fighting me. Please, Ari . . . ’
The voice was older, more mature, but unmistakable. My breath hitched.
‘ Ro? How—? You aren’t ... are you? ’
Rowena’va Shen’ra, my sister. A powerful mage and necromancer, she was a strong summoner capable of returning life to the dead and imbuing decayed flesh with aether to create the semblance of life. Dreamwalking was secondary for her—a skill she’d never mastered. Her reaching me like this shouldn’t have been possible.
‘ Alaric, I finally did it. No, don’t speak—he may sense you. Just watch, please. Just watch. ’
Ro’s words, strange and urgent, echoed in my mind, but they made little sense. Why reach out to me if she didn’t want to talk? Before I could process her meaning, a blinding light enveloped me.
Orm’s hand remained on my hip, grounding me in reality, but when my vision cleared, I found myself walking through a corridor. Intricate tapestries adorned the stone walls, their vibrant embroidery dimmed by age. My sister’s presence lingered, urging me forward.
Whatever this was, I had to trust her. Wary of dreamwalkers, I forced myself to relax, opening my mind to what she wanted me to witness.
Through her eyes, I saw what might have once been the grand castle she had described in her letters, its magnificence now ravaged by time. The tapestries were paper-thin, frayed at the edges, and everywhere I looked, decay spread like a sickness.
It’s falling apart , I thought, feeling my sister’s agreement ripple through our link.
The corridor ended in a vast chamber with towering ceilings. Ornamental carvings of climbing vines and roses adorned the walls, their elegance muted beneath a heavy layer of dust. In its prime, I imagined the room had been illuminated by a thousand candles; now, it was a graveyard of forgotten splendour.
‘Rowena, where have you been? Have you made progress with the trolls I sent you last week?’
The voice was smooth, commanding—a pleasant baritone that belied the rot beneath its surface. My gaze snapped towards the speaker, and rage surged through me as I recognised him.
My father.
The bastard who had destroyed my life.
He stood beside another man, his face drawn into the same sour expression I’d never forget. Thin lines etched his features, but my resemblance to him was uncanny. And while Roan’va Shen’ra had aged well, looking at him was like staring into a mirror that reflected a possible future I wanted no part of. His stern gaze bore down on my sister, unrelenting, heavy-handed—exactly as he’d always been. A despot who demanded perfection and crushed anything less.
Once, I had yearned for his approval. Now, I despised him.
‘I was preparing the army for our lord,’ Rowena replied coldly, her tone as sharp as a blade. ‘Not tinkering with those defective trolls. Your spell scrambled their minds so badly that all I could create were more mindless beasts we’ll have to release near the border.’
Her voice was icy, unrecognisable compared to the sister I knew.
‘Let her be, Shen’ra,’ another man said, his tone casual, almost bored. ‘As soon as we have your boy, none of this will matter. He will lead them all.’
My sister’s gaze moved to the figure sitting on the throne. The man was striking in a conventional way—dark hair dusted with silver, fine lines framing his eyes. He was well-built, perhaps too much so for his apparent age. Yet as he rose from the throne, I caught a shimmer of magic rippling across his form.
An illusion.
Beneath the glamour I saw what must have been the mummified husk of Cahyon, the Lich King. His desiccated body betrayed his immortality, but the illusion persisted. Why? I wondered.
Vanity. He wants to be an emperor of men, not a king of the undead .
My sister’s thought came through unexpectedly, but it made sense. Why would he think I would ever lead his abominations, though? Even if he dragged me to Katrass, his plans were doomed.
‘My lord,’ Rowena said carefully, her words laced with scepticism. ‘Alaric can be wilful. Are you sure he has enough power to control so many creatures?’
The Lich King’s expression darkened, displeased by her doubt.
‘Once the bond is complete, and our connection is forged, he will have my power as I will have his mind and obedience. Alaric’s necromancy already exceeds your father’s, and with the conduit mage he loves ...’ Cahyon’s lips curled into a smug grin. ‘Tell me, my dear, who will be more powerful than my puppet and I?’
He turned, grasping my father’s chin as though handling a pet. ‘Look at your father. He knows Alaric will be more than enough. Such jealousy from a doting parent,’ he sneered, patting Roan’s cheek mockingly. ‘It amuses me.’
Rowena gasped, but I felt immense pleasure at the insult. My father’s thunderous expression soured further, yet he didn’t pull away from the king’s grasp. He endured it silently, as though such humiliation was routine.
‘You see, my sweet Ro,’ the Lich King continued, his tome almost conspiratorial. ‘Your father hates competition. He couldn’t bear other men looking at his wife, and he disliked it even more if someone’s magic was stronger than his. He might pretend to care about legacy, but even your mother was chosen because her psychic skills and dreamwalking were no threat to him.’
Cahyon’s smile widened as he stroked my father’s cheek, his words dripping with venom. ‘Imagine his shock when she bore a son whose mastery over the dead impressed even the empress. And then there’s you, Rowena—a shining star who received both parents’ powers and has outdone him entirely. Such delicious irony.’
I could feel my sister struggling to not react, but she remained still, unflinching.
‘Isn’t that why you hate your son so much, Roan?’ The Lich King’s voice dropped, cruel amusement flickering in his eyes. ‘And what about letting me use your wife to renew myself? Was it to punish her for trying to leave you? For not being the meek little mouse you wanted her to be? Such a shame you didn’t tell me your little spell would turn me into a fucking monster.’
The last word was punctuated by a savage backhand that snapped my father’s head to the side.
‘You wanted to live forever, and that was the price,’ my father spat, cradling his cheek. ‘Did you really expect to do that as a human? As for my wife, she was the most compatible for the ritual, though it didn’t hurt that she’d also outlived her usefulness.’
Rowena didn’t react. There was no pain, no sorrow, as though she’d heard this all before.
So Cahyon didn’t intend to become a lich? I thought, the realisation sinking in. Ro’s silent agreement confirmed it.
There was a grim poetry to it. To exist as a lich, unable to savour food, drink, or love—it wasn’t power. It was torment. At least I still had the chance to be with someone I loved, while the Lich King’s body was a dry husk filled only with aether.
Rowena cleared her throat, drawing both men’s attention.
‘My lord, those in stasis in the keystone cave won’t be easy to control. Even if my brother agrees, no mage has the power to sustain them indefinitely. The only reason the spell holds is because of the keystone’s stored aether, and you saw what happened to the artefact.’
Another secret unravelled in front of me. Now I knew why the Barrier was fading and why the monsters hadn’t attacked Ani and Orm while they explored the caves. I was betting that was also the reason Annika felt something wrong with the keystone. It was all beginning to make sense.
‘The keystone will hold as long as it has to,’ the Lich King declared, his tone sharp. ‘I could send your father to lead them, but his magic is nothing more than a mindless hammer. Unchecked, he’d reduced Dagome to yet another desolate wasteland.’
‘Alaric’s psychic skills are insufficient,’ my father interjected, his voice laced with indignation. ‘And unless you complete the curse, you cannot fully establish the connection.’
‘Still unwilling to admit he bested you in all that’s important?’ Cahyon’s laugh was a low, mocking rumble. ‘Don’t fret, Roan—you’ll have your moment. If our plan fails, I’ll allow you to destroy Dagome and the dark fae empire as you’ve always dreamed. But have faith in your son. The curse is nearly complete, and he’ll manage. I’ve sharpened his abilities with my little games—each moment of pain, each whisper in his mind, has expanded his power. Soon, he won’t be able to resist my commands. Every god needs an avatar, and he is just perfect for the role.’
The Lich King’s chuckle darkened as he turned to Rowena, who instinctively stepped back when he reached for her. ‘You’ll see your brother soon, my dear,’ he murmured. ‘Just as you are building my army, he will lead it.’
‘Even if you manage to control Alaric,’ my father cut in bitterly, ‘the conduit mage remains out of your reach—’
Gods, I wanted to laugh so hard, hearing his surly tone. The old spider was caught in a net of his own making, and now he had to wait hand and foot on a man who couldn’t wait to have his son to unseat him. If not for Annika being dragged into this, I might have savoured the sight.
‘I nearly had her last night, Roan.’ Cahyon’s voice took on a predatory edge. ‘Such a beautiful creature, though obstinate and a little unruly. I’ll enjoy breaking her to my will, just as I did with our sweet Ro. In the end, they all submit.’
‘How— Did your spies—?’
‘Where there’s a will, there’s a way. Your idea of allowing some humans and Moroi to survive and breed was inspired. I wish I’d spared more of them, but hindsight is a luxury.’ The Lich King frowned, his eyes gleaming as they focused on Rowena. ‘Just in case, find me a body. One that’s functional enough for the Anchoring process. We can’t let my future Anchor suffer unnecessarily. And find a handsome one—maintaining the illusion is tiresome.’
Rowena’s shock radiated through me like a palpable wave. ‘My lord, we’ve already tried that. I don’t think it is possible—’ she began, only to falter as his hand closed around her throat.
‘Did you think I was asking?’ His voice was a venomous hiss. ‘That was an order, and you will obey.’
I felt the pressure on her throat as if it were my own. Her struggle for breath sent a surge of rage through me, and before I could think, I willed her hand to strike back. I felt her pushing me away, trying to break the link. The sensation of dry flesh and bone beneath my fingers was disorienting, but I held firm, forcing her to grip his throat.
The Lich King’s face twisted into a grin as he stared directly into my—Rowena’s—eyes. ‘Ah, Alaric,’ he purred. ‘So nice of you to join us. You’ve found a way into your sister’s mind. How unfortunate that you overheard my plans.’
His grip tightened around Ro’s throat, and his manic smile grew. ‘But perhaps it’s for the best. I’ll give you a choice: come to Katrass willingly, serve as my general, and Annika will remain yours, unharmed. Refuse, and I’ll drag you here as my slave. Consider it carefully, boy. Now, leave your sister’s mind alone.’
His final words shoved me from Rowena’s consciousness with the force of a hammer blow. I woke with a gasp, bolting upright as my heart beat out of my chest.
‘What’s going on?’ Orm, awakened by my sudden movement, was already reaching for his dagger. His curse when he realised it wasn’t there was colourful and filled with fury.
‘Give me a moment,’ I rasped, nausea twisting my stomach. I bent over the edge of the bed and retched, the sound harsh in the still room.
Orm’s hand was suddenly on my back, his touch firm but soothing. I forced myself to breathe, to gather the chaos in my mind, and finally turned to him with a grim expression. His hand shifted to my shoulder, his grip steadying me.
‘Talk to me, Ari. Whatever it is, we’ll deal with it.’
‘My sister pulled me into a dream,’ I began, my voice heavy. ‘I saw the Lich King ... and my father. I know now why they want me—and Annika. The curse ... it was meant to awaken my psychic potential and tie me to the lich. Hrae! I’ve been their puppet the entire time, groomed to command that monster’s army.’
I shook my head but couldn’t dispel the feeling of hopelessness that settled over me.
Orm’s grip tightened as his golden eyes burned with fierce determination. ‘Forget him. His curse lay dormant when Annika was around, and I’ll never let him have you.’
‘We need to find her,’ I said, recalling Cahyon’s words. ‘He claimed he almost had her yesterday, but he didn’t say how.’
Orm nodded, his gaze shifting to the window, where dawn painted the sky. ‘The day is breaking anyway. Come, let’s warm up before the fight, and you can tell me everything.’
‘Why not here?’
‘Because I’d rather not face armed guards with stiff muscles,’ he replied with a smirk. ‘And you look like you need to stab something.’
I watched as he dressed and then rose from the bed myself. ‘Me? Warm up? Unlike some decrepit, overgrown rider, I’m always ready,’ I teased.
Orm’s smile turned predatory. ‘Fine. Come because I want to beat the living daylights out of someone who won’t faint at the sight of my fury. So, are you up to the task, or should I wake my brother? He won’t be happy, but he’ll understand.’
‘Oh no,’ I said, matching his grin. ‘The privilege of drawing your blood is all mine.’
The golden light in Orm’s eyes flared. ‘Don’t tease the beast, reckless fae,’ he said with a vicious grin.
I let my own dark aura swirl around me. ‘Tease? I thought I was taming it.’
He laughed, the sound rich and unrestrained—a spark of life I hadn’t seen in him since Annika vanished. Thrusting his hand towards me, he grinned again.
‘Yes, maybe you are, in a way. More than I ever thought possible. Let’s go, we have a fight to win and not much time to prepare.’
I was already out of bed, tugging on a shirt, when an idea struck me. ‘How about a wager? The winner gets the first night with Ani once we get her back,’ I said with a smirk.
Orm shook his head, his response so nonchalant it nearly made me drop my daggers. ‘No need. This bed is big enough for the three of us, and I don’t think I ever want to sleep alone again.’
For a moment, I just stared at him. ‘Hrae, why wait for your brother? Let’s go and get her now. For that, I’d die happy.’
Orm rolled his eyes, already moving towards the door. ‘Trust the necromancer to find joy in flirting with death,’ he muttered, and we set off towards the training grounds.