Chapter twenty-three
Ashwiyaa
“She made herself a reckoning, and from the ashes, she rose.”
Iwake with a start, a gasp falling from my lips as I launch to my feet. Kai is sitting on top of the boulder I was resting against.
“What is it?” He jumps down and lands next to me.
I don’t respond right away, lifting my nose in the air, searching. A familiar, sickening scent hits me like a slap, and icy-cold dread curls around my spine, squeezing tightly. It can’t be . . . not now. The sun’s already risen, casting soft light over the forest. Daylight should keep him away.
But it doesn’t matter. I can smell it—the unmistakable stench of rot and death.
“He’s close,” I whisper, my voice barely audible.
Kai’s expression hardens. “The vampire?” His tone is sharp, ready for action.
“Yes.” My heart races as the scent grows stronger, more nauseating. “I can smell the rot.”
Kai’s hand instinctively grips my arm, steadying me. His eyes flick toward the trees, scanning the forest with growing tension.
“How?” he mutters, more to himself than to me. “It’s broad daylight.”
“Kai you—”
His lips drop to mine, silencing my words. When he pulls back, he gently touches my face, sending a warm sensation through my skin. “I didn’t get a chance to tell you yesterday, but I love you too,” he whispers.
I swallow roughly over the lump in my throat. It’s been two hundred years since anyone has uttered those words to me. I never found anyone I wanted to hear those words from. It wasn’t until he came along, with his captivating smile, eyes that sparkle like stars, and a soul that holds so much light. He has seen my darkness, yet he embraces me with open arms. For so long, I yearned for a connection that would transcend the limitations of time, a love that would defy the odds and endure through the ages. I think I have finally found it.
Kai steps closer, those blue eyes of his flickering with magic, yellow sparking through the irises. I remain silent as he brings his other hand up to cup my face, tipping my head back slightly so our gazes are locked.
“Take a deep breath, and remember who the fuck you are, Ashwiyaa.” His eyes flicker between mine. “You are a warrior. You are strong and you will fight. And if that fucker puts his hands on you again, you cut them off.”
My breath catches at the fierceness in his tone. Then his mouth covers mine again, and I melt into the kiss, a fire burning deep in my chest and magic surging through my veins.
Inthe distance, there’s the sound of claws racing up the cliff face. With a final nod, Kai releases his grip on me, lowering his hands and focusing his attention on the cliff that overlooks the Dead Sea.
I straighten my shoulders and curl my fingers into fists as I stand by Kai’s side, ready to face the monster coming for me.
“You’re a weapon. You always have been, and weapons don’t fucking weep,” I say under my breath.
Kai’s glowing golden eyes glance over at me, but I don’t look back. My focus is on Abchanchu as he launches over the edge of the cliff, landing on the grassy ledge.
With a crazed look in his eyes, his chest heaves in rapid, irregular movements. His attention shifts from my now unbound wrists to my face and then to Kai.
With a snarl, Abchanchu’s eyes—twin dark, inky pools of death—shift to me. “Where do you think you’re going, pet? The fun was only just starting.”
Chapter twenty-four
Ancient Voices
The ethereal forms watch from a distance, their presence a mere whisper on the wind, a shimmer in the twilight. They are the guardians of a legacy, the spectral echoes of those who have come before.
Ashwiyaa stands as a figure of strength and resilience. Her journey has been long and arduous, marked by the suppression of a magic that has flowed through her bloodline for generations. This ancient power, passed down from her ancestors, has lain dormant within her, buried beneath years of silence and restraint.
Ashwiyaa’s ancestors, the worldwalkers, were beings of immense power and mystery. Their lineage is unique, with only one born anew when the previous one passes away. This cycle ensures the knowledge and power of the worldwalker is never diluted, always concentrated in a single living vessel. But with such a system, there comes a burden. Each new worldwalker bears the weight of all who have come before, the responsibility of preserving their secrets and powers.
For Ashwiyaa, this means living with the constant ghostly presence of her ancestors. Their whispers and shadows are her companions, their memories her guide. Yet, despite this, she has locked them away, blocked them from guiding her. The long suppression of her abilities has taken its toll. The ethereal forms wonder if she can still remember how to summon their combined powers, how to weave the ancient magic that is her birthright.
