Chapter 19
~Winter~
The mark of his displeasure rolled through the dreamscape.
It was in every aspect of it.
He’d pulled me into a wasteland.
Dead, skeleton trees with bark like charred bone surrounded the area, some even hollowed out.
The ground was cracked black earth that splintered under my bare feet and had me hissing with every step I took.
With my physiology, I’d heal quickly, but then another step would slice into my skin or even stab through it.
But I couldn’t stay still. He was using his magic to force me onward to three hundred feet in the distance where he sat on a throne made of twisted white shimmering bone and a gray film glinting off it from the corrupted necromantic power he was pulling on from his allies.
The sky was a low and oppressive cloud layer with faint, midnight-blue light bleeding through—the mark of his magic.
A harsh wind even whipped through the area.
Normally, I couldn’t feel cold temperatures due to my death-cold state, but he’d obviously infused that stabbing ice sensation he’d assaulted me with in that pool dreamscape before to create this magically-manufactured wind that could actually make me feel it, cause a nasty chill in me.
The time before this, a few days ago, right after me performing Risen Reckoning, I’d gone to him in another dreamscape after he’d beckoned me, and when he’d pulled me into it the place had been full of warmth and coziness—a luxurious lounge he’d created with gold velvety furniture, legs and armrests encrusted with all sorts of jewels.
He’d brought me in dressed in my jeans and hoodie, my comfort clothes.
For once he hadn’t altered me in that way.
Because he’d thought I’d been there to agree that it was time for me to go with him to Sanctus.
Instead, I’d told him that I’d needed more time.
He hadn’t exactly taken well to that, even with me making him believe that it was because I wanted to practice wielding that level of power that Risen Reckoning drew on more, thinking I wasn’t ready for what he needed from me yet.
While he’d let me go, he’d punished me by not infusing me with that warmth.
Days it had been now and I was growing more antsy, that cold was worsening.
And I knew it would soon escalate to that stabbing ice sensation, which would be difficult to function through.
It was already straining enough to put on a front around everyone, not to feed from Zayn except during sex, and to appear like nothing was wrong.
Ruxnoth had made it abundantly clear that he’d harm anyone I told. Harm to him given his power set and means could literally mean complete devastation—even death.
I continued on through this hellscape, grimacing as the way the bastard had dressed me this time had that chill assaulting me all the more from the magically-manufactured wind, because the gray T-shirt I was in was shredded, barely holding together in its tatters.
The same for the jeans, the knees even completely worn away.
There was no hoodie either. And the barefoot thing obviously wasn’t helping.
“Good boy,” he rumbled when I was about ten feet out, so close finally.
He released that pull, then, and I came to a jolting stop, looking up at him sitting there, this time wearing his lavish gold and navy baroque patterned coat, albeit still shirtless beneath.
His eyes narrowed dangerously. “In that sense at least. You didn’t resist my little leash there.”
Wait. Did he know that I could have?
It was vital that he didn’t recognize that I could impact this dreamscape.
While he knew my power had hit extreme levels, something he’d felt from me performing Risen Reckoning through the connection he’d established between us, for me to impact a True Celestial with warped power bolstered by twenty necromancers was, let’s just say, a tad beyond that.
Without workarounds.
Him not knowing my true knowledge levels due to my subterfuge should have him still believing I was helpless in this situation.
Something he needed to believe for a little while longer.
Because, sure, I could tear myself from his dreamscapes, but that would show my hand.
To stop him required us being in person, and me also being in Sanctus. I couldn’t achieve that here while we were on separate planes. Sanctus might be a magical construct, but it wasn’t phantasmal, wasn’t a dreamscape, it existed in true reality.
“I couldn’t,” I responded.
“Hmm. Couldn’t. Not wouldn’t. There it is.”
So that was his game.
He rapped his fingers on the creepy twisted bone armrests of his throne. “You are becoming disobedient.”
“That’s not—”
“Careful, youngling, more power can all too easily breed arrogance. And that’s something you cannot afford when dealing with me.
I won’t take kindly to it, nor to you stepping out of place.
” His eyes darkened. “Not when we have come so far and found such a wonderful understanding, one most definitely mutually beneficial.”
“It’s not that.”
He arched an eyebrow. “Enlighten me, then. What else might it be?”
“I just… I’m scared.”
He started. “Scared?”
“Yeah. I… when I touched that level of power… I just… I need more time to control it.”
“And as I already conveyed when I drew you to me shortly after such a mesmerizing performance, you do not need to concern yourself with maintaining control to that extent.”
“I know you said you’d take over there, control it, and guide my power to your liking, to what Sanctus needs, but I’m not just Necromancer.”
He stared at me for several moments.
I didn’t flinch, didn’t give myself away in the least.
But then his eyes narrowed anyway, and he rumbled, “This is not truly about that at its core, Winter.”
“What?”
He rose from his throne, then startled me as he teleported right in front of me.
His hand shot out and wrapped around my throat, the grip brutal enough to make me gag.
“You are being dishonest.” He leaned in and breathed that magical warmth across my jaw and cheek, and I bucked as the glorious sensation slammed up against the pain and nastiness that this place had been causing me since I’d arrived.
“We can’t have that, deathborn darling.”
Fuck.
He tightened his hold, almost completely cutting off my breathing. “Tell the truth. Now. Speak the correct words.”
“Is this… a… threat?”
“Consider this due warning. You have laid with your lovers so very recently. Their blood and fluids remain in your system. With our Spiral Thorn connection, it’s very much feasible for me to reach through you and into them. For just long enough to cause a significant agonizing assault.”
No. No. No.
“Don’t.”
“Beg.”
Urgh.
He shook me in his hold. “I. Said. Beg.”
“Please… please, don’t.”
“Continue.”
“I’m sorry. I’m just… afraid. I… told… you. That’s all… true.”
“But the root of it is not.”
“No. It’s… the leaving… them.”
He loosened his grip and I sucked in much-needed air. “There it is.”
He stroked my jaw, then, his eyes softening—well, at least that was what he was projecting. I’d gotten good at reading beneath the surface with him. Pulling me into these dreamscapes partially involved melding our subconscious states, so there was a vulnerability from him as well for me to access.
“I understand you believe you’ll be left wanting by taking your leave from your family and those you think you are in love with.
But those attachments will fade, the ache will dissolve.
I’ve already promised you will be cherished and fulfilled in Sanctus.
I will replicate that familial attachment for you, and there are many of my necromancers who deeply desire to meet you.
You will find physical satiation in them.
Others like you who can meld much more appropriately with your power set and understand your needs compared to a Dragon Heir, an Ifrit, and a Basilisk Lord. ”
“No, that’s not—”
“You must always hold yourself back with them.”
“You don’t know that. The four of us fit together and—”
“I’ve felt you curb your power abruptly whenever their energy signatures are near you.”
I hated his words. I hated every fucking syllable.
But he kept pushing, telling me, “With us, you will be able to unleash all that you are.” He shook his head at me as he registered my disgruntled reaction.
“For one so adept at seeing through illusionary magic, you are astonishingly inept at recognizing the falsity you’ve constructed around yourself.
This reality you immerse yourself in is not real.
As such, it cannot be sustained.” He finally released my throat.
But he didn’t step back, nor give me any space between us.
“I told you, did I not? Upon our first encounter, I conveyed that you did not belong on the mortal plane. Not only that, but that you are not accepted, nor would you ever be. The slightest perceived infraction, one single step across an arbitrary line that the world has drawn where you’re concerned, and they will descend upon you. ”
“No. You can’t know that for sure.”
“Of course I can, youngling. You and I are the same. Too special for their understanding, for their pathetic ideals, for their limited tolerance, for their benightedness and frailties. The world will always fear what is different and they will always then seek to punish it.”
I jerked back from his grip.
Or, he let me. I wasn’t sure. The pang in my chest that he’d put there, that he’d torn into me with his venomous words and observations made it hard to register much else.
Because I couldn’t completely cast it out.
The world was scared of me.
I’d even seen it when Ryker had arrived during my invocation of Risen Reckoning, my struggle for control, before I’d managed to handle it.
And my dad… how he’d reacted in response to protect me…
was there even a line for him? For Mom, Father, or Pops either?
For Grandpa? For my loves? For anyone who touched my life so deeply?