Chapter 21 #2
Jassyn twisted the vines around Elashor’s limbs and hauled him upright, roots cinching tight as the general’s head dropped to his chest, the growth suspending him in a grotesque imitation of standing.
Through that living conduit, Jassyn reached for the Stardust clogging the general’s blood. He burned away only enough to pull Elashor’s mind toward the surface. The growth blackened between them, leaves curling to ash.
He didn’t need Elashor purged fully, only lucid enough for his magic to work.
The moment Elashor’s breath hitched on the edge of consciousness, Jassyn rammed his awareness into the general’s mind like a stake through rotting bark.
This time, he took control.
Jassyn seized Elashor’s Well and forced the general’s power through the telepathic link between them.
For one sickening instant, the world tilted through Elashor’s senses—Jassyn’s body before him, Jassyn’s skull lit from within by the orders buried there, the architecture of his captivity unfolding.
You will never raise a hand against yourself or others. You will serve. You will stay devoted.
Each command seemed anchored to a different part of him—obedience to his hands, submission through his spine, devotion buried so deep it had started to feel like his own.
Jassyn’s arms shook as he wrenched Elashor’s magic through the link.
Essence blazed around them as he drove the general’s power into the coercion buried in his mind. He found the first command and severed it.
Behind him, the coerced soldier’s knife moved from one kill to the next while Blossom followed close, cracking bodies down to blood and splintered bone.
Jassyn barely noticed.
He tore through the bindings one by one. With every rupture, the magic inside his skull loosened. With every command stripped away, some buried portion of himself returned.
His vision swam. His jaw ached from clenching. Under his boots, the earth blackened in widening rings as he drew more life through root and moss, stealing enough strength to keep himself upright, enough clarity to keep cutting.
The last command snapped.
Jassyn staggered back. He dispelled his wings without thinking, and the shift obeyed at last. No order reached for him. No devotion rose to meet it.
The vine around Jassyn’s wrist shriveled to ash as his grip on the grove broke. Elashor’s bindings loosened—roots slipping from his shoulders, the venomous blooms wilting.
Essence erupted around Elashor as he lunged.
Jassyn’s will lashed back into the earth. A vine burst from the moss, whipped around Elashor’s ankles, and yanked his legs from under him. He pitched forward into Jassyn’s waiting grip.
Jassyn caught him at the throat, palm clamping over pulse and tendon. The contact opened a path straight to Elashor’s Well, bloated with stolen power. Jassyn had only meant to stop the attack. Instead, he saw how to end the general’s reign for good.
Jassyn ripped.
Power spilled like blood.
Elashor’s Well cracked open, Essence rupturing around him. Jassyn seized it all, spheres of magic spinning loose from the general’s chest.
Elashor screamed.
His body contorted, skin darkening to night as Jassyn siphoned every talent. Essence bled from him in waves, power unspooling in seconds. His eyes flooded red. Fangs split his gums. His limbs thrashed, bones lengthening and reshaping under his skin.
Through the roots holding Elashor, Jassyn forced life into the general, keeping his heart beating while the transformation ravaged him. Death could wait. He would wring this male dry before he let him rot.
Talents hovered around them like stolen stars. Jassyn felt the pull, the whispering urge to take them into himself. He held them aloft, refusing to be a home for Elashor’s corruption.
The last sphere spun free.
Jassyn let the roots holding Elashor slacken. The general slid down through them and collapsed at Jassyn’s feet, stunned and emptied to a wraith.
Jassyn planted his hands on his knees, fighting to stay upright. His arms shook as he hauled in air, darkness flickering at the edges of his sight. His back felt too light without his wings, the absence now almost as painful as their constant weight had been.
Blossom approached, her chuff stirring his hair, warm and rank with blood.
Branches shivered overhead, leaves rustling despite the absence of wind.
Resin wept down trunks split by sudden growth, and roots flexed beneath the moss, as though the Starvault had begun to follow her.
Her crystalline eyes fixed on Elashor’s slumped body, a wordless question pressing against Jassyn’s mind.
“Not him,” Jassyn rasped, his voice raw as splintered bark. “I need what he knows.”
She growled, low and disapproving.
“I don’t have time to tear answers out of him here. Not when we need to get out.” He lifted a hand and touched the ridge of her snout. “Can you…carry him?”
Blossom bared her fangs, images flooding his mind. Roots choking marble. Moss suffocating starlight. The taste of their captors still hot on her tongue.
The rumble in her chest deepened. Nothing in her wanted to preserve what she could devour. Roots crept toward Elashor’s body, hungry for permission.
“Blossom,” Jassyn said softly.
Her gaze landed on him. Beneath blood and the reek of starlight, she found the scent of him—earth, roots, her own power planted in his chest. Her scalebond.
Images pressed behind his eyes again—Elashor pinned by her claws, his body split between her fangs, his blood feeding the moss.
Jassyn exhaled through his nose, understanding her bargain. “When I’m finished with his mind, he’s yours.”
Blossom’s nostrils flared. One grudging breath steamed over his hand. Then she struck, snatching Elashor across the shoulder and ribs.
The general jerked with a strangled noise, claws scrabbling uselessly against her scales. Blood welled between her fangs as she growled, tightening just enough to still him.
A small metallic chime rang through the grove. Jassyn’s attention flicked past Elashor to find the source of the sound.
Farine.