Chapter 40 #2
I slow as I reach the edge of the fields beyond the castle.
Wildflowers sway in the dawn breeze, dew clinging to their petals like silver tears.
Crops stretch outwards in neat rows, the land rich and alive beneath the pale morning light.
Everything smells of earth and freshness, the soft smell of brimstone mingling in perfectly.
I scan the open space nervously. She is nowhere to be seen. Which is unsettling, considering Vesindiyah is impossible to miss. She is enormous—twice the height of a massive horse, her body easily longer than the buses from back home.
I tilt my head, scanning the vast stretch of sky above me. Bruised dawn clouds drift slow and heavy, streaked with gold at their edges. Nothing moves between them. No great shadow.
“I’m here,” I call softly, my voice swallowed by the open field.
Silence answers. No familiar pressure brushes against my thoughts. No deep, steady presence settling against the edges of my mind the way Vesindiyah always does when she reaches for me.
Ease uncurls low in my stomach. Did I dream it? My dreams have been strange lately. Vivid. Twisted. Half-memories and nightmares tangled together until I wake up unsure of what belongs to my dreams, and what belongs to reality. But I was awake when I heard her. I know I was.
Just as I turn to head back to the castle, the thunder of wingbeats erupts above me.
I jerk my head upwards just as she tears through the clouds.
Vesindiyah descends like a falling god, crimson scales blazing as dawn light catches them, each one reflecting iridescent light so dazzling, I have to squint to look at her.
Her vast wings carve through the sky with terrifying grace, stirring winds strong enough to whip my cloak around my legs, and send wildflowers flattening to the earth.
She lands in a crash of force that rattles the ground beneath my boots. Soil jumps, and pebbles scatter. The impact vibrates up through my bones. I stumble back instinctively, one hand flying out to steady myself.
Her enormous head lowers until molten-gold eyes meet mine.
Ancient intelligence burns there. Steam curls from her nostrils with every breath, carrying the scent of smoke and wildfire.
Her tail swishes behind her, long with a barbed tip, slicing through the air with enough force to cut a man in half.
“Vesindiyah,” I breathe.
Sunshine Queen. Her voice rumbles inside my mind.
“Is everything okay?” I ask quickly. “You sounded concerned when you called for me.”
She doesn’t waste time soothing me.
Ancient beasts have been resurrected, she says bluntly. They were never part of this world. They were destroyed in their own.
My mouth goes dry. “What are they?” I whisper.
Vorrythael, Vesindiyah growls. Ancient Saerathi war beasts. They were removed from their world for being too destructive. They wield sonar.
“Sonar?” My head spins, my voice sounding childish as my thoughts stumble trying to catch up.
It suppresses magic, she explains. If one aims its call, it can easily cripple a group as large as fifty beings at once. Your powers will be rendered obsolete.
The world tilts. I sink down into the damp grass, my legs trembling too violently to hold me upright. “We’ll be destroyed,” I whisper to myself. “Eliminated instantly.”
There are few, from what I can feel, she says quickly, sensing my spiral. They can be killed through their glowing fracture points in their scales. Strike there.
I nod absentmindedly, fingers digging into the dewy soil as panic claws at my chest. “Okay,” I breathe. “So hit them where it hurts. Without magic. Right. Easy.” There is nothing easy in my tone.
There is more.
I let out a hollow laugh. “Of course there is.”
She lowers her massive head so she fills my vision, her voice softer now. We can all feel the other beasts through frequency. We cannot hear them, not yet. Not until they enter our world.
A pause. The fear in her ripples so sharply through our connection, it steals my breath.
Abyr’Veth, she whispers. The World-Eater.
A violent shiver tracks down my spine. The name slams into me like a memory I don’t remember living. Like some ancient instinct in my blood recognises danger my mind cannot comprehend.
“The World-Eater?” I murmur. “That sounds fucking delightful.”
It was a whispered myth, she says gravely. Even before this world existed. But if it has returned… She exhales a warm breath that ruffles my hair. Daisy, if it has returned, nothing will remain.
Cold floods my veins. A beast that devours existence itself? Surely not. Surely no one would create something like that.
I may be wrong, she says. But from what I can feel… from what we can all sense, something is coming.
Before I have chance to respond, Vesindiyah suddenly moves—fast.
One second, she is before me. The next, her colossal body steps over me, planting herself between me and the open field. She unleashes a deafening roar so violent, it shakes the grass flat and rattles my teeth in my skull. Fire explodes from her maw—white-hot, blinding, enough heat to sear the air.
Then it vanishes entirely. Swallowed whole.
I scramble to my feet, my heart hammering as I dart around one pillar-thick leg and freeze. Standing there in the churned grass with his hands tucked lazily into his pockets, utterly unfazed, is Korithax.
I step forwards instinctively, but Vesindiyah blocks me with one taloned foot.
He is not safe, she warns. He is poison. He is danger.
“That is Korithax,” I say softly, eyes fixed on him. “He is safe.”
She recoils in shock. King Korithax? Her voice shifts with disbelief. How so? I felt your grief. He died.
“He’s back,” I whisper. “Changed… but back.”
Korithax tilts his head, confusion furrowing his brow as he watches us. Wind tugs through his dark hair, the dawn painting the sharp lines of his face in gold and shadow.
I feel that change, Vesindiyah growls. It is not of this world. And it has very evil intentions.
Korithax steps forwards, but Vesindiyah lowers her head with a warning rumble that shakes in my chest.
“It’s okay,” I say quickly, pressing my palm against the warm, rigid scales of her leg. “I promise.”
Her body is hot beneath my hand, vibrating with restrained violence.
“I would never hurt her,” Korithax says, raising both palms. His voice is calm, but I hear the hurt beneath it. “I just wanted to make sure she was okay. I saw her run out here.”
She is always okay with me, Vesindiyah declares proudly. Child of Ruin.
Korithax’s eyes widen, his jaw going slack.
I stare at him. “Did you hear her?”
He nods once, still looking stunned. For a moment, something like wonder cuts through all the darkness clinging to him.
Vesindiyah steps back, wings unfurling in a vast crimson sweep that blots half the sunrise. Remember Sunshine Queen, she says as she lifts into the sky, dawn fully breaking behind her. I will ride with you when the time comes. Only you.
Then she launches skywards in a blast of wind and earth, soaring into the brightening morning until she becomes nothing more than a streak of red against the sun.
I’m pacing anxiously up and down my room, my boots echoing against the stone floor as Korithax sits stiffly on the edge of my bed.
He watches me with weary, shadowed eyes, his posture too rigid, like he’s bracing for something horrific.
I mean, he wouldn’t be wrong. I’ve not spoken a word since Vesindiyah left.
How could I? He’s finally decided to let Aran close.
Finally let me close—even if only for a little while.
Telling him now could send him spiralling straight back into isolation—or worse.
This must be what it means to be queen. Carrying the weight alone, even when it feels far too heavy for one heart to hold.
I need answers. Knowledge. Something solid to cling to before fear swallows me whole.
Maybe Lyvia will know of something. Old texts in Sovarith, forgotten records buried beneath centuries of dust. There has to be something written about ancient Saerathi beasts.
Vesindiyah at least knew of a way to kill the Vorrythael.
Which means knowledge survived somewhere.
And if the Abyr’Veth—the World-Eater—was destroyed once before, then there has to be a way to do it again. There has to be.
Korithax’s deep voice rumbles through the chamber. “Daisy, please tell me what she said.”
I shake my head, gnawing nervously at the skin of my thumb until the faint taste of copper blooms across my tongue.
He exhales and stands, crossing the room in two long strides before stepping directly into my path. Gently, he hooks a finger beneath my chin, tipping my face up until my gaze meets his. His onyx eyes search mine, so full of concern.
“I can handle it,” he says quietly.
I breathe out slowly. “She said ancient beasts have returned. Or… resurrected.” My voice wavers. “Large creatures called Vorrythael.”
His brow furrows as he releases my chin. “I’ve never heard of them.”
“They’re not of this world,” I say. “But they’re powerful.”
I tell him everything. About their sonar, their magic-suppressing abilities, the fracture points in their scales. How Vesindiyah said they could be killed. But I leave out the World-Eater. Just thinking its name makes my stomach churn. I can’t say it yet. I’m not sure I ever want to.
He sinks back on the edge of the bed, dragging a hand down his face as he lets out a harsh breath. “They’re really stopping at nothing, are they?”
I shake my head and resume pacing, anxiety coiling tighter with every step.
After a moment, his hand shoots out, catching my wrist. He tugs gently, pulling me between his legs. Even seated, I still have to tilt my head up to meet his gaze.