The monster met him, hit for hit.
“You’ll have to do better than that, Princeling.”
Sparks filled the darkness, embers that danced as its claws met his blade.
“You know where to cut. You know how to kill. Do it, and prove you aren’t afraid.”
And it was Arawn’s voice that slid into his mind next, a true memory...from the day he paid penance in Kinlear’s place.
Go for the throat.
But before he did...
“Who are you?” Kinlear growled. “Why are you here?”
He swung again.
More sparks flew, setting the darkness ablaze.
“WHO ARE YOU?”
His voice echoed off the skeletal trees as the monster circled him, leaving a trail of shadow in its wake.
“I came for you once,” it whispered. “Long ago, in the darkness.”
At that...it was Kinlear’s time to pause.
Because suddenly, he connected this voice, his monster’s hiss, with the voice of the one who soared towards him in the dark place.
“Choose,” it had called to him, from far in the distance.
He never did, because the gods had grabbed him. He knew it was their magic that pulled him back, that cast him into his life, a sick child.
A dying thing.
“It was you?” Kinlear asked, as he backed up another step. As the monster followed, and those shadows stretched towards him like snakes.
Still, he held the dagger out between them.
He was Veilborne.
He was not afraid.
He lunged again, trying to aim for the throat. But the monster evaded the hit.
“You must mean it,” the beast growled. “You must crave my death, the way you crave your mother’s approval. Your father’s attention. Your brother’s crown.”
Kinlear screamed and swung again.
The monster howled with laughter as he missed.
And missed.
And missed.
He was Veilborne.
He was not--
