Nothing.
Nothing.
Nothing.
Nothing.
Nothing.
And then?
Something stirs.
It begins soft as a mothwing flutter, the faintest tickle in the back of my skull. I can’t be sure how much time has passed. Maybe a second. Maybe a thousand years. But a spark—faint but determined—glows in the shadows shrouding me.
My lips tingle with the memory of breath.
Until—
With a jolt, my heart gasps back to action.
And ithurts.
My body remains still, but somewhere deep inside, something is sprouting. Pain ricochets through my chest with all the force of a hundred lightning bolts, but this time, I welcome it.
Because Ifeelsomething again.
It’s enough to nudge my waking mind back into the present. All my hopes and dreams chase after that tiny spark of light. It burrows into my body until the shadows are pushed to the edges, and in the semi-dark, one thought surfaces:
I’m…alive!
Vaguely, my ears pick up on voices outside of my body.
Yes—there.
People are talking. At first, their voices bleed together into one blurred orchestra, but slowly, one voice stands out. Deep and rasping.
“Kill him.”
Suddenly, as though I’ve been doused with ice water, I snap back into my memories.
I remember where I am:Drahallen Hall’s throne room. Basten and I were leaving. Saying our goodbyes and heading to Astagnon to confront Rian. My father betrayed me with a knife to my heart…
And now?
The back-stabbing bastard is going to kill Basten, next.
A bitter tang spreads down my tongue. Energy builds beneath my skin in a way that’s somehow cold and bright and deadly all at once. A thousand wasps thrash inside me, buzzing and fiercely territorial, ready to explode in defense of the man I love.
I will not let Basten die.
My body might remain a tomb, but I don’t need my body, I realize—I’ve done this before.
I did it when I possessed the tigers in Duren’s arena.
I did it when I took control of the cloudfox, Plume.
I did it when I synced my mind with Tòrr and decimated hundreds of Volkish raiders.
