71. Chapter 71
My feet scuffed over the floor as I paced up and down the camp, my head angled to the gathering of trees around the small stream behind the greenery. Only when the compulsion to account for all my fellow soldiers overtook me did I grant myself an interruption in my attention.
If I caught one of them peeping, I’d gouge their eyes out, feed the offending parts to them before ending their life. Resorting to a minimum of torture despite the seriousness of the crime would be enough to express my gratitude for their prolonged camaraderie.
For the hundredth time, I made an inventory of the situation.
Nayana was bathing. In the stream. Alone.
When I’d voiced the demand to accompany her—she was infected by a deadly parasite and dependent on my energy, godsdammit—she simply scoffed and left me standing.
This stubborn woman would be my undoing—quite literally.
The truth that I had to be close by in case the necessity of transferring my life force into her should arise had almost slipped out of me, but luckily, I’d stopped myself in time.
She’d argue with me, and my deeds would agitate her, endangering her condition even more.
No, I’d tell her after we’d acquired a cure—or never.
I knew her well enough to be able to foretell that she’d chastise me for an eternity for giving her my winters.
Another unpleasant concern surfaced and hooked its claws into my mind.
Even though my intentions in withholding the true meaning of the Enamcoharta from Nayana were pure and for her sake alone, Ireas had reminded me that keeping this secret posed a risk.
Oh, how things had changed within only a few months.
Had I wished that the mark would disappear after I’d discovered its presence, that desire had transformed into the exact opposite.
The possibility that the winter and day period would pass and the divine symbol would vanish had my stomach not only in knots but also all my insides in shreds.
Earlier this morning, I’d lifted the Glamour that I’d placed on her Enamcoharta and inspected her mark. The crimson line, Colainn—or the body line—was unsurprisingly almost closed.
Anam, the purple soul line, was finished, and this made me smile. The array hadn’t been like this before I’d left for the Breocharn.
The mind line, Intinn, missed a tiny piece of its blue color, and once this part was completed as well, we had to decide if we’d keep the symbol with all its meaning or allow the gift to vanish.
Mine had finished weeks ago—well, apart from Colainn—before we’d even returned to Galanta.
Yes, divine magic had marked us as perfect for each other the moment we’d met, the mystical power alerting us to the fact that there was no one in existence who would be a better fit for us.
But the gods never refused their creation their own agency.
Sure, denying an Enamcoharta nearly never happened—and the phenomenon was already rare enough on its own and even more so with a human involved—but not unheard of.
And like the Rite of Binding, the ceremony that immortalized the mark would only work on the basis of full consent between both parties.
But since my female always jumped to the worst conclusion, she’d surely believe destiny or the gods had decided for us to be together, which would cause her defiance to flare up and her struggles against accepting my love to intensify.
As if the Triad or anyone could force certain emotions upon us.
I’d heard of at least one case where an Enam match had hated each other so much that the female had killed the male in cold blood.
Luckily, we still had a few months left before making a decision and sealing the bond would become urgent.
Before I could rein in my imagination, I descended into a fantasy starring said rite.
The ceremony was possibly the most primal one existing, dating back to when the instinct to hunt had been strongest. Remnants were still a part of each fae’s inner workings, but not like the compulsion had been in the past.
Just thinking about chasing my tiny woman through a deserted forest before inadvertently catching her and claiming my winnings had my cock harden painfully against my leather pants. Damned were my primal impulses, which always rode me so hard.
My throat constricted as I realized that something else I couldn’t name was stirring inside of me, and I pushed the sensation down with all my might until the chains stopped rattling.
After all, I had to concentrate on the current guard duty I was on and not on a hypothetical hunt with no restraints, or I’d stalk faster to the river to catch the woman who still tried to deny that we were meant to be.
How could I finally help her discover she was lying to herself?
Five minutes later, my nerves were in shambles. I’d waited long enough to satisfy Naya’s unnecessary sense of propriety. After all, I’d seen her naked before. And more, I’d been inside her—best days of my life—so why was she still so shy?
My lips curled up at the possibility of discovering my tiny goddess bare, maybe—
Trapped in explicit daydreams that didn’t help to relax my hurting cock, I prowled to the treeline.
As I imagined all the delicious little sounds I’d coax out of her, I stopped dead in my tracks. I’d reached the stream, and there was Naya, but everything else in front of me made little sense.
My female’s hair was dripping wet, and she was fully clothed, but there was no time to mourn, because she pressed her back against a tree, looking like a deer caught in a snare.
I had to inspect the scenery twice to fathom what—or rather, who—frightened her so badly.
Without a conscious thought, my power exploded and shielded Nayana with impenetrable darkness. Dozens of tendrils pushed her aggressor away, wrapping around the figure, holding, containing.
Hurrying through the barrier around Nayana, my magic crackled over my skin in billowing blasts of energy, and it was safe to say that my transformation from being a reasonable person to an instinct-driven creature had already been completed.
“What did she do to you?”
“Dion.” Wide-eyed, Nayana stared at me, her hands clamped around some parchment, and she was shaking like a leaf. While she seemed unharmed—and I also couldn’t scent a drop of blood—I needed her to confirm her well-being first before dealing with the surprising intruder.
Protect. Then kill.
“Nayana, did she harm you?”
“No—she appeared out of thin air after I got dressed, pushed this envelope into my hand, and then started to threaten me. But you arrived before something could happen.”
Enough confirmation.
The last thread of restraint snapped.
My magic pooled around me like a massive ink spill, and the guttural sound of my voice rang through the scenery. “Stay. Protected. Mine.”
She showed me no fear as she nodded, and this simple epiphany unraveled another chain. She wasn’t afraid of me.
She wasn’t afraid of me.
With determination, I left her safe bubble, reinforced the shield against sight and sound, and turned to the other female entangled in angry, pulsating strands of shadow and darkness.
A pang of self-loathing burned through my chest. How had I forgotten that this vile fae couldn’t only track but was able to travel through light as fast as I was able to hurry through shadows—only her facet didn’t drain her nearly as much as mine did.
“Danartha.”
“Scriosta, you’re here? Let me go, darling.”
How deluded was she?
Taking slow, measured steps toward the appalling female, I called upon my powers, willing them to rise.
Kill.
“No. I won’t. And I hope that when I’m done with you, even Noelk will reject you.”
“What do you mean?”
“You hurt the one I love. Your life is forfeit.”
“This is about the human vermin? Wait, you’re protecting that? The Eachtrannach? Please, be serious here.”
“I’ve never been this serious in my entire life.”
More and more chains disintegrated. Onyx matter was dripping down my skin like thick honey, pooling at my feet, spilling from every orifice of my body.
With each measured step that I took toward the other fae, the jet-black substance encased me further, morphing me into a creature of pure terror and nightmare, even warping my features.
Kill.
My form changed, and I expanded, my body growing, altering.
But why?
My sense of self was pushed further and further back until I wasn’t wielding darkness anymore. Instead, the darkness wielded me.
This was a metamorphosis into something monstrous on the outside that finally matched the inside.
My liquid obsidian skin rippled, and smoke caressed every inch of this transmutation.
This was what had yearned to break out for the longest time.
Surrendering my resistance in the perpetual war for dominance, I opened my mind to the monster, and the creature welcomed me back in return until we were both in control. Still, I was clueless.
What was I?
What had I become?
Finally. A beginning.
My head snapped around when Danartha screamed in terror—the sweetest music I’d ever heard.
Shadows wafted from the chasm that once had been my mouth as I ordered my tendrils to unwrap her.
Calling them back, all minus the one slithering past me through the shield, where he’d comfort my heart and soul.
Adharcan.
Harc.
How fitting.
My precious goddess shouldn’t be so close, yet never further away from me, with danger lurking behind every corner.
But now that she had a chunk of me with her again, I’d bring her to safety.
With a flick of my wrist, I converted my spawn into something eternal.
How I achieved that was intrinsic.
And so I followed the hovering black bubble with my eyes, ordering Adharcan to soothe my precious. He gladly complied with my wishes.
As expected, Danartha tried to flee to the nearest light once she was unbound.
That had been my intention, granting her the hope that she could reach a way to escape.
But there was one fact she had to learn the hard way—her light was no match for my darkness.
My power would swallow her whole, extinguish her glow until the last drop.
With my head covered in dark energy cocked to the side, I studied her like an insect as she bolted toward a sunny patch at the riverbank, her heart beating hard with tasty fear and desperate optimism.
I allowed her to reach the border between shadow and light.
One more step, and she would have attained salvation, but before she could vanish, I dragged her feet down into the inky pool underneath her feet, holding her hostage as I approached her with measured steps.
Each movement was calculated, my pace designed to create maximized terror.
“Little Danartha, so terrified of the one you desired to marry?” My voice was distorted, just as warped as my features. I’d arrived in front of her at last, and shadows wafted around my hand as I extended my fingers to pat her cheek in a mocking gesture.
“Don’t touch me, abomination.”
“Tsk. You’ve changed your mind quickly.”
“I didn’t know about—that.”
The laugh rippling from me was cold as ice as I stroked down her cheek, marring her skin with specks of the onyx liquid coating my fingers. “Are you aware of how many mistakes you recently made? A hint—the last one was coming here to terrorize my one true love.”
“Release me, Scriosta. I’ll leave, and I don’t want to see you ever again.”
“Oh, your wish will be fulfilled real soon.”
“You’ve made your point.”
“No, it’s you who made her bed and has to lie in it, for as short as this will be.”
Patience was wearing thin, and I’d made up my mind, even though this primal part of me still demanded to terminate the petrified female this instant. But I had a better idea. One to appease my goddess and to teach everyone else not to mess with what was mine.
“Stop, let me go, monster. I was just delivering a message in the name of the High King.”
As if that was a reason to cease my assault.
I stopped listening to her screeching.
She bored me.
Instead, I inhaled her fear as I picked her up into my coated arms. She felt wrong in there, but the contact wouldn’t last long.
“See, vile Danartha. My uncle had once mouthed the theory that someone can only survive shadowwalking unharmed when they are attuned to darkness. Let’s see if that’s true. ”
“Where do you want to bring me?”
“Not far.”
“What?”
“You’ll be an example. For once in your life, you’ll be useful to me, isn’t that nice? So, I’d better try to keep you alive for a little while longer, hm?”
Admittedly, I made little sense.
Before her grating voice could annoy me again, I used my own obsidian pool as an entranceway into the void world of shadows and darkness.
Although I cocooned Danartha in a protective bubble, I had no idea if she would live or die. But to make sure she wasn’t getting too comfortable should she persevere, I filled her prison with nightmares. Her panic tasted delicious, and I drank all her emotions in.
The shadow void was different. I was different as well, after all.
Already on the edge of control, the longer I remained in this parallel reality, the more my sense of self threatened to slip away.
Growling, I propelled myself forward faster, as the urge to kill became overwhelming. Luckily, my destination wasn’t far away, and my magic in Harc at Nayana’s side called to me like a beacon. Soon, I would be there, back where I belonged. With her.