Her hand snapped back to the hilt of her sword, heeding his warning.
Using his singular word of advice to find him, Adara stealthily made her way toward him, the Whisperer’s back turned to her. It crept closer to him, a predator stalking its prey. He watched the movements of its arm, legs, torso, neck, anything but its head where its eyes bore into him, ready to claim his life.
It stalked closer and closer. Its breath, reeking of death, permeated the air. Dominic gagged on the stench. He gritted his teeth, squeezing his eyes shut as the Whisperer ran a claw softly over his forehead, moving a strand of sweat-drenched hair away from his eye. Extremely sharp, even the barest touch left a thin line of red trickling across his forehead.
Just one glimpse and I can tell you your fate.
Dominic shook his head as if the simple motion could shake away the fear slithering through him.
“I can make my own fate,” he growled, his jaw clenched tight. He didn’t care whether or not the Whisperer acknowledged his words. He only needed for Adara to hear them. Needed to speak to guide her closer to the Whisperer so she could attack, because he’d been stupid enough to drop his dagger the moment the creature started prodding at his mind. Pinned between its withered body and the wall behind him, Dominic could do nothing. All it would take was one swipe of those claws to gut him, spilling his innards all over the ground to join the rotting flesh of its previous victims. There were no corpses, only flesh and bones and blood. He shuddered at the thought of being reduced to nothing more than carrion, of being completely erased from existence after his death.
Although he hated leaving her blind and on the verge of defenselessness, Dominic was glad Adara couldn’t see him struggling to keep his composure as the Whisperer traced its talons along his skin, whispering threats in his ear to get him to open his eyes.
It grabbed his jaw, the tips of its claws stinging and cold against his skin.Just one look and I’ll tell you if you get what you desire.
“I don’t need to see my future,” he snarled. “I’ll find a way to get what I want.”
Adara, having found the direction of his voice again, stalked closer. Eyes cracked open a sliver, Dominic watched her feet move. Step after step, she crept up behind the Whisperer.
Finally, mere inches away, he whispered to her, “Cut low.”
The Whisperer released its hold on his jaw. Dominic’s eyes shot open just in time to see Adara’s sword cutting through the air, aimed at the Whisperer’s spindly legs. He leaped out of the way as steel sliced through its leathery skin. The Whisperer cried out, staggering back into the wall. It swiped blindly at Dominic, clawing the air. He dove out of its path and rolled across the blood-crusted ground, picking up his dagger.
Adara dodged its strikes like she sensed its intention before it even moved. Rushing toward them, Dominic joined the fight. With the two of them, it was easy to land a blow on the Whisperer, but every inch of skin they cut, every bone they broke, was futile. The creature never faltered. It only shrieked so loud that their ears rang and they staggered back. Then, it charged at them again, stronger and faster than before.
“I’m beginning to think we’re only angering it,” Adara shouted over one of its shrill cries as she slashed along its ribs, creating a gash deep enough to see bone. She leaped back in time to narrowly miss its claws.
“You think?” Dominic yelled back as he lifted his dagger to block another powerful swipe of its talons. The metal sang as his blade met those claw-tipped hands.
Adara went for a low attack, only to be swept off her feet. The Whisperer then turned and slashed at his ribs, to which Dominic jumped back. At his retreat, the Whisperer whirled to face Adara on the ground. It lunged for her.
Dominic shouted, “Roll right!”
Without hesitation, Adara obeyed his orders. The deafening sound of the Whisperer’s claws scraping against stone filled his ears, sparks flying in its wake.
Leaping to her feet, Adara suggested, “Why don’t you make it fall in love with you? That seems to get everyone killed!”
The Whisperer lunged for her again. Adara thrust her sword at its abdomen, but it jumped to the side. Both of them converged on the hideous creature. Before they could get close, it hissed and ran to the side of the cave. Its claws extended farther, digging into the cracked stone. Then it hauled itself up and scaled the wall.
“I would if I could! But that thing can’t exactly see my charming good looks, which usually does the trick,” Dominic shot back as the Whisperer scrambled all over the roof and walls of the cavern.
The light began to dim, darkness settling in as, one by one, it blew out all the torches.
Despite the cloth covering her eyes, Adara’s head turned in every direction, searching for the creature. “Right, we both know it’s not because of your delightful personality,” she retorted. Beneath the blindfold, she must have seen the darkness around her grow thicker because whatever other sarcastic remark she was about to make died on her lips. She heaved a heavy breath and murmured, “What’s happening?”
How she knew exactly where to look to meet his eyes was beyond him. Dominic knew, beneath the blindfold, her fretful eyes were trained on him.
“It blew out the torches,” Dominic said, his voice loud against the silence that enveloped them. The cavern was no longer filled with the Whisperer’s shrieks or the scrape of its claws. He couldn’t even detect its breath—if it even breathed. He didn’t even know if the ancient creature was technicallyalive.
Adara muttered a curse to herself in a language he couldn’t detect. “I can’t feel my magic,” she said, voice rising in anger and panic.
Dominic flexed his fingers. There was a dull, empty, void instead of the usual hum of magic in his blood. “I can’t either,” he muttered.
A whisper sounded somewhere above him, indecipherable. Once again, the voices hissed in unison, pounding in his ears.Look at me.
Dominic closed his eyes, sensing that it would materialize in front of him at any moment.
Turning in a slow circle, he listened for anything that would give away its position—a scrape of claws, a breath, a tap of movement—but he couldn’t escape those damn whispers . . . until they suddenly stopped.
