His stained armor tells me he has been fighting for hours.
“How do you still have magic?” I press.
His mouth curls into a smile framed with dirt and grime from the day. “Like you, I choose to use my magic for other reasons—reasons other than killing. I’ve been looking for you.”
His eyes shine like a monster’s when entering the fog, or a hero who is unflinching in the unknown.
“I knew you’d be here,” he continues, “but I needed to see if you were worthy. Only one who wishes to create balance can press pen to paper.” His head tilts, like the weight of a scale. “I had to be sure your heart was pure. Not of vengeance like the huntress is.”
He’s a lunatic.I inch back, but shit! There is that force again, pushing at my back and tugging my chest closer to him.
“I’m a time-weaver,” he claims with delight. “I can create pockets in time, slow things down for a few moments, keeping you trapped with me. But our time is almost up.”
I snort, but the moment the sound huffs out of my nostrils, I start to doubt my next statement. “They do not exist.”
He opens his left hand. “Am I not here?” He raises his sword. “Is my blade not made of metal? Has our conversation not taught you that things forgotten and feareddoexist?”
“You like to toy with your prey,” I counter, though I cannot help but shudder.
A time-weaver! Tristen won’t believe it. The only good thing to come of the war was the travel. My brother and I have seen and met people and visited lands we never imagined. We witnessed magic we had only read about in books.
“Yes and no.” His reply is instant, like a slap in the face. “I knew you’d be here, and yes, I cut my way through men and women to reach you on this battlefield.”
My teeth clench. “You speak as if you have the magic to see the future.”
“I never said I didn’t.” His smirk turns mocking.
I lift my sword like a shield, heart hammering beneath it. “Now I know you’re mad with lies. Time-weaving is rare; foresight is impossible. No one person is gifted with both rarities.”
With a sharp bark of laughter, he spreads his arms wide, sword dangling loosely in one hand. The weight of it seems more like that of a feather than of hard steel. “Who is mad?” His eyes become wild and unhinged, as if the battlefield itself has crawled into them. “I stand in front of you speaking and showing you the truth, yet you try to tell your mind that your eyes and ears are lying.”
“Why are you telling me this?” I step back.
“Because you do both, kill and honor. You do what the runes once did before they were abused. Create balance.”
“The runes did not create balance.”
“Says who?” he challenges.
“Oh, I don’t know, the wars they caused,” I bark.
“Greed of the flesh was not the rune’s fault. They were a gift from the gods; our lands need runes once again to bring peace. They make everyone equal. Humans without magic can stand a chance against us.”
“I don’t need more enemies coming at me.” Humans with magic! No, thank you.
“Put yourself in the human’s shoes. Or would you rather keep them as low as cattle?”
I point my sword at him. “I do not treat humans as such. I value them for the blood that feeds my magic. Call me a monster again, and I will carve out your tongue.”
Not all vampires treat humans with respect, but I am not one of them.
This needs to end. “You’ve been fighting too long, my friend. Madness has claimed you,” I tell him.
“Madness has claimed us all.” His smile drops like a stone tossed into a calm river. “When the time comes, I need to know you’ll be ready.” His eyes feel like possessive chains around my ankles.
“Ready for what?” I widen my stance just to prove to my mind that I can move. His magic has no claim on me.
“To rule and to keep safe the runes.”
