Gygarth is almost upon me now. It shrieks and I feel its hunger, its desire to devour, to destroy. But I refuse to give in. I swallow my fear and force my hands to steady as I reach deep within myself, summoning the light that has always been there, waiting for me to call upon it. A light used to mend and to heal, but now, in this moment, used to fight.
Warmth spreads through my chest, growing brighter and more intense until it’s almost unbearable. I can feel the energy building, the rune around my neck pulsing with life and power, begging to be released. The monster lunges, its massive jawsopening wide, ready to tear me apart. But I do not flinch. Instead, I thrust my hands forward, willing the light to surge from within me, to banish the darkness that seeks to engulf me.
A beam of brilliant, phosphorescent green light shoots from my hands, blinding in its intensity. It cuts through the void, striking Gygarth with a force that shakes the very fabric of the surrounding darkness. The beast shrieks, a sound so horrifying it tears at my ears and gouges my eyes, but I hold my ground, pouring everything I have into that beam of light.
Gygarth recoils, its form writhing and contorting as the light sears, driving it back, back into the abyss from which it had emerged. The void trembles, the shadows tearing apart as the light consumes them. With one final, desperate roar, the darkness swallows Gygarth, dragging him back to the depths, his white eyes flickering out as he sinks from sight and the portal of smoke shrinks and withers until it closes completely, leaving only the untouched ceiling and wooden rafters.
A soft glow of the light lingers around me. With a final, shuddering breath, I let the light fade and my arms fall exhausted at my sides.
All is silent. The pulsing circle around me falls still, now nothing but smudged blue stains on the floor, and the chanting is only a memory, something to add to the waking nightmares in my head. The circle of shrouded figures remains, lurching over me with an eerie quiet.
Will they kill me now? Do I have the strength to stop them? Before I have time to weight up my odds, a loud crash, followed by a terrifying, savage roar, breaks my captor’s circle. They scatter and I hear screams and desperate pleas as a flurry of black robes whip around me. Then two strong hands scoop me off the floor and draw me close to the warmth of a broad chest. I nestle close, eager to chase the icy chill from my bones.
That smell.I know that smell. The smell of the night, and the air and the sea.
His hand brushes away the hair veiling my face, and when I feel his fingers drifting from my skin, I find the strength to reach out and grab his hand to keep him with me. I have faced a demon tonight, but I do not want to suffer the pain of losing his touch.
“Daed,” I mutter.
He does not speak, but I hear the deep rumbling of his breath, I’m sure of it. His lips brush my forehead in the softest kiss, a touch so gentle it sends a shiver through me. My heart flutters, caught between the dreamlike haze and the startling reality of his touch. I lose my grip on whatever force has kept me lucid this long, but the sensation of his kiss lingers through my dreamless sleep, a powerful, unspoken promise that leaves me breathless.
The smell of dawn rouses me, but when I open my eyes, the sky over Baev’kalath is gray, as always. My memories flood back in a barrage of painful flashes, and I pinch the bridge of my nose to dull the sting. A conclave of hooded strangers, and a circle painted on the ground. A portal of smoke and shadow and a monster born from absolute darkness. Two strong arms saving me, and a kiss that is burnt into not just my mind, but my skin.
I bolt upright with rapid, shallow breaths. “Daed?”
There is no answer. I am alone in my chambers. I look over my nightgown for any sign of dirt or blood. Too much happened last night for there to be no evidence. But the fabric is pristine and pure white, even around the hem, which I know I dragged over stone and through ash. My hand. I raise it to my face, expecting to find the bandage missing and streams of dried blood along my arm. But the bandage is in place without a single drop of blood in sight. My head snaps towards the secret door.
The dresser should be… no.
The dresser is against the wall as normal, not in front of the secret door where I know I pushed it after escaping Daed. Or didI? Souls? Did I even see him last night? Or did I fall asleep and imagine all of this?
I shake my head in disbelief and when I do, my head throbs so much I wince. It could not have all been a dream. I do not dream. But what other explanation can there be?
I stumble out of bed and my fingers crawl along my chest to find my rune necklace. The source of my healing gifts. I hold the rune tight and close my eyes even tighter, trying to make sense of all this. The light within me has only ever been used to heal those in need. Never to fight monsters. I shiver. But it wasn’t just a monster. It had a name. Souls, why can’t I remember?
Suddenly the doors fly open and I spin on my heels, staggering backwards until the dressing table jabs me hard in the back. I wince as Queen Lanneth enters the room with a small army of maids at her back. She eyes me curiously from the doorway as she strokes her chin with her long, bony fingers.
“Did I startle you, daughter?”
The sound of that word on her lips fills me with disdain. I do not speak, only shake my head to keep myself from saying something I shouldn’t.
“You look so pale,” she remarks, strolling slowly towards me. “Not that I mind. I prefer it actually. But compared to the hue you arrived with, it makes you look noticeably unwell.” She narrows her colorless eyes at me. “Are you unwell, Amara?”
I glimpse my serpent vine on the dressing table behind me, another leaf has fallen, and only one remains. I subtly slide across the dressing table to keep the plant from Lanneth’s suspicious gaze. The vine and I share the same sickness, our spirits polluted by the gloom that rises from the depths of Baev’kalath.
“I am fine,” I say, forcing my back to straighten even though all I want to do is lie down.
“Good,” she replies. Her gaze flits around the room vacantly before returning to me. “And how did you sleep?”
“Fine,” I lie. That seems to be the only word in my vocabulary at the moment.
“Well, I have excellent news. Your beloved husband has returned.”
“I know,” I reply lazily, my eyes half closed.
“You know? How do you know?” she asks.
Her question snaps me awake. Do I tell her I went to this room last night and threw myself out of his window? That his eyes were solid black? Or would that only reaffirm how insane I am becoming?
