Chapter 5
Five
The air thickens with the fetid stench of the approaching hounds. I can almost feel their hot, wet noses on the back of my neck, their claws and fangs tearing into my flesh as they indulge in fresh meat. I tell myself to breathe.
Falcen curses loudly. I risk a glance by rising on my tiptoes and looking over his shoulder, catching glimpses of sleek, shadowy forms in the brush, their worm-eaten snouts turned toward us in a rictus of hunger.
“Falcen.” I choke out his name. This time, there are way more than three hounds.
Falcen whirls to the right, calling his sword in a blinding arc. The blade cleaves through the neck of the hound that leaps first, sending its head flying in a spray of charred blood.
As the headless corpse of the hound rolls across the ground, Falcen snatches the soul that rises from its body.
He crushes it in his fist, the onyx Void essence seeping into his veins and crawling up the tops of his hands, his exposed neck, like oily smoke.
His eyes flare with a feverish light, the ring of gold around his pupils burning brighter, hotter, as if lit from within by an infernal flame.
A shudder runs through him, his muscles bulging and flexing beneath his remaining armor as the charcoal power floods his veins.
Jaw grinding, he turns to face the oncoming horde, a feral snarl twisting his lips.
The hounds falter, whining, but he’s already in the middle of them, a whirlwind of death and savagery.
I watch in horrified awe as Falcen tears through the pack, his sword a blur of light. He rips out bowels with his bare hands and crushes skulls beneath his boots, reveling in the carnage with a vicious glee that sends me recoiling into the stone wall.
The other hounds surge forward, their jaws snapping.
Falcen meets them head-on. He pivots among them, his movements fluid and precise, every stroke of his blade finding its mark.
With his free hand, he draws from their bodies, taking bits and pieces of the downed creatures’ souls and, when he’s not absorbing them, flinging them at the remaining pack.
The air crackles with magick as Falcen wields the Void hounds’ fragmented souls. They streak through the air like black lightning, searing the flesh of the advancing hounds. One yelps in agony, its form distorting as the dark energy tears through it.
Falcen seems to grow in stature, his muscles hardening and straining against his sweat-soaked clothing. Soul-glyphs rise from his skin like writhing serpents, and his eyes ... gods, his eyes. A feral, molten gold consumes the cool blue, and his pupils narrow to demonic slits.
But there are too many. A hound slips past Falcen’s guard, its fangs sinking into his thigh. He grunts in pain, stumbling. Two more hounds lunge for his back.
My eyes widen with horror. How much gold powder did Falcen bring? He was destabilized by one bite. To endure three…
Save him.
I blink and give my head a hard shake. That voice wasn’t me, yet its lilting whisper came from inside my skull. My fingertips prickle with a tingling, staticky rush, a humming just beneath my skin that grows more tangible with each passing second.
Save him, the voice urges again.
A strange warmth blooms behind my ribs, spreading through my veins like golden sunlight.
But I stand frozen, my mind white with terror. I know I should run, should flee while Falcen holds them off, but I can’t seem to make my legs move. All I can do is witness his fight, his posture sagging with the hounds’ weight as he tries to shake them off.
My body moves on its own accord. I take one step forward, then another.
The hounds snap and snarl, their eyes shining a sickly ebony as they turn their attention to me.
Fear shrieks up my throat, but I push it down, focusing on the warmth shimmering through me and the voice whispering encouragement in my mind.
Time seems to slow as I reach out, not with my hands, but with a deeper, unfamiliar limb.
The hounds hesitate, their hackles rising as they sense the change in their surroundings. Falcen, still grappling with the beast latched onto his thigh, looks up at me with surprise, then rebuke. “I ordered you to stay the fuck in the cave!”
I barely hear him. I’m too focused on the hounds. Beneath their gray patches of skin, their souls sift and churn, gorgeous and tainted.
My breathing grows harsh. These Void souls are so different from the incredible ambrosia of Edon’s. So unlike Noxie’s tiny, loyal spirit. They’re thicker, syrupy with the bitter tang of black licorice, but … familiar.
Heat builds, pressure mounting behind my eyes, in my skull, until I feel like I might burst from the force of it.
“Verily, don’t you dare!” Falcen shouts as he’s knocked to the ground, but it’s too late.
Save him, the voice repeats.
This time, I listen.
I throw out my hand, spread my fingers, and pull at the nearest hound.
Its soul comes loose with a sensation like tearing silk.
The creature howls, its body contorting impossibly before collapsing into a pile of ash.
The other hounds freeze, their oozing, cataract-laden eyes fixed on me with an emotion akin to befuddlement.
Falcen stares at me, the whites of his eyes showcasing his shock, and ... is that hunger?
We lock eyes over the hound’s vulnerable soul.
The moment breaks. Falcen jumps to his feet, pulls the poisoned soul toward him, and consumes it before driving his sword into another hound.
I reach out again, feeling for more of those twisted spirits. It’s easier this time, more natural. One by one, I tear them free, each hound dissolving into nothing. The last one turns to flee, but I snag its soul before it can escape.
As the final hound crumbles, silence falls over the clearing. I’m breathing hard, my body throbbing with an exhilaration I don’t understand.
But I’m not empty-handed. Between my palms, a tangled orb of obsidian mist contracts and expands. The collected souls of the Void hounds.
The power emanating from it holds me in a fugue state. I can feel each soul squirming within, whispering promises of venom, of knowledge, of power beyond my comprehension. My fingers twitch, aching to crush the orb to my chest and absorb it all.
Falcen approaches, his sword lowered.
“Verily.” Falcen’s voice seems distant, muffled. “Verily, look at me.”
I can’t tear my eyes away from its cloudy twirls. It’s so terrible, so tempting. Just one taste. Surely, that wouldn’t hurt.
Falcen’s hands clamp down on either side of my face. He forces my head up.
“Listen to me,” he says, his voice low. “You have to let it go.”
I slow blink, his command taking its time to penetrate the haze of craving.
“But I want it,” I whisper, my voice sounding small and faraway to my own ears. “I need it, Falcen. It’s singing to me.”
His jawline sharpens, muscles ticking beneath the stubble. “I know. Lux above, I know. But you have to fight it. You’re stronger than this, Verily. Stronger than the Void’s temptation.”
“I could control it,” I reason in an almost childlike manner. “I can use it to become stronger.”
His fingers dig into my cheeks even as his tone softens dangerously. “No, Veilbreaker. That’s the Void talking, not you. It twists your thoughts, makes you crave what will destroy you. You have to resist it.”
A single tear slips down my cheek, the salt stinging the fresh scratches on my face.
Falcen’s thumb brushes over the tear, his touch unexpectedly gentle. “Release it. Please.”
The whispers in my head turn sibilant, hissing threats and hopeful promises, but Falcen’s voice, his barely audible note of concern for me, breaks through the fog obscuring my judgment.
With a shuddering gasp, I wrench my hands apart. The orb of Void energy dissipates, the souls within scattering to the breeze like ashes.
I collapse forward, my knees giving out, but Falcen is there to catch me. He pulls me against his chest, his arms wrapping around my shaking form.
“You did well,” he murmurs into my hair. “You did so well.”
His praise heats my cheeks, even as I cling to him like a lifeline. Sobs wrack my body as the enormity of what I almost did crashes down.
My fingers tangle in the front of his shredded tunic like it’s the only thing keeping me tethered. His heartbeat is a steady thrum against my cheek, grounding me.
After what feels like an eternity, my sobs taper off into hiccuping breaths. Falcen’s arms tighten around me. One hand cradles the back of my head as the other rubs soothing circles on my back.
And I’m all too aware of the heat he exudes.
The planes of his chest, now that most of his armor has fallen away, are carved, hard, and muscular.
The strength in his arms.
His … groin. Against my stomach.
I know I should pull away and put some distance between us, but I can’t seem to make myself move. It just feels so good. Burrowing deeper into his chest, I let out a long, contented sigh.
Falcen’s hand stills on my back. He clears his throat.
Damnation. How mortifying. Falcen must believe I’m some sort of village maiden who’s never touched a man before.
He releases me and steps back.
I steady myself on my feet, feeling unbalanced in more ways than one.
When I finally dare to meet his eye, I say, “I’m sorry,” for what feels like the hundredth time.
Falcen’s chest rises and falls with a prolonged exhale. “It’s the nature of the Void. It calls to us and tempts us with power. You resisted. That’s what matters.”
I swallow, remembering the terrible whispers stifling the initial, musical one that guided me, the craving that nearly overwhelmed my good sense.
“How do you do it? How do you consume those souls without losing yourself?”
A shadow passes over his features. “Practice. And a lot of scars.”
He turns, striding through the hounds’ lingering viscera like it’s a freshly paved walkway. “We should keep moving. There’s a lake nearby and a town that isn’t far.”