A wraith skittered toward them on all fours, its lurching limbs a nightmarish distortion of life. Tattered leathers clung to its wasted frame, braids frozen into brittle knots. Frostbite had gnawed its ears to mangled stumps and blackened eyelids framed a vacant stare, oblivious to the barren world.
A tremor ran through Jassyn—not fear of the wraith, but of what it symbolized. Another soul bent and broken, shackled to servitude. One of the compelled.
I can fix this.
Essence flared to life in his palm, its steady hum sharpening his focus. Casting out an arm, Jassyn whipped telepathic chains around the wraith’s mind.
The creature’s snarl fractured into a choked howl. Its limbs seized mid-lunge, immobilized under his control. As the wraith faltered, so did he, the irony biting deep.
He hadn’t hesitated. Hadn’t questioned. But did it even matter if the end justified the means?
Jassyn stole a glance at Lykor, each beat of his hammering heart a condemning echo of his choice. To brazenly wield the magic Lykor despised—almost as much as he seemed to despise him—was hardly a convincing bid for trust.
Lykor stood motionless, arms crossed over his armor, his sneer cutting between Jassyn and the writhing wraith. Shadows coiled around him like a second cloak, seething with quiet menace. A silent fury burned in his eyes, one that promised swift consequences.
Jassyn swallowed, his chest tightening.This is different. I can free it.
Sometimes it was necessary to inflict a wound to heal a deeper scar. And the alternative—leaving the wraith bound, stripped of its will—was a cruelty he refused to allow. Surely Lykor would understand.
Clearing his throat, Jassyn forced the words out. “I can take it back to the jungle,” he offered, gesturing to the subdued wraith. “Untangle the coercion. We could heal—”
Darkness lashed from Lykor’s fist, obliterating the wraith in an eruption of blood and bone.
Jassyn staggered, the severing of his control jolting through him like a physical blow. The remains splattered across the snow in gory chunks, dark streaks staining the pristine frost.
He whirled toward Lykor, disbelief crowding out the edge of his shock. “We could have helped it!”
“The reavers are traitors,” Lykor growled, the words remorseless. Restless shadows churned around him as though waiting for another chance to strike. “You’re naive if you believe they deserve to wake up from their fate.”
Jassyn stared at him, a shiver that had nothing to do with the chill scraping down his spine. Words stuck to his tongue, half-formed and useless as he glanced at the steaming smear on the ground.He could do the same to me.
With a metallic squeal, Lykor’s claw tightened, his armor groaning under the strain. His scowl darkened as he glared at his fist, shadows rippling around his knuckles. Muttered words tumbled from his lips—unmistakably aimed at Aesar.
Lykor’s eyes suddenly snapped back to him, flaring like embers caught in a gust. “We’ve lingered too long.” His gaze cut to the volcano in the distance before he flicked his gauntlet, snapping the portal to the jungle shut.
Essence coiled around him as he wrenched open a new rift. Across the snowy valley, the other end gaped like a wound against the horizon. Without waiting for a reply, Lykor strode forward, boots crunching through the snow.
Over his shoulder, the wind carried his growled words. “If you’re so insistent on following, then keep up.”
Tugging his hood over the points of his ears, Jassyn released a breath, his chest tight against the icy air. Somewhere in this mountain range, far to the south, the prince flickered at the edge of his awareness. He hurried through the gateway, never once tempted to tug on the bond to have his cousin retrieve him.
The fortress dwindled to a speck behind them, devoured by the expanse. A shadow cutting through the drifts, Lykor moved ahead, carving rift after rift into the frozen void.
Jassyn rushed after him, the monochrome landscape blurring into an endless sea of white, broken only by the ice-capped peaks. Portal by portal, they advanced, bridging valleys and threading through narrow passes. Each gateway opened just far enough to reveal what lay ahead, the only means to navigate into the unknown.
Most believed crossing these mountains impossible—even the king had deemed the effort futile. But Lykor seemed determined to press beyond any boundary, intent on proving the world wrong.
Ice clung to Jassyn’s boots, each step heavier than the last. The rhythm of their passage—portal, trudge through snow, portal—lulled him into a weary trance as an hour passed. His breath misted before him, the cold creeping deeper with every stride.
Without warning, Lykor stopped.
The sudden halt jarred Jassyn back to himself. He skidded, nearly colliding with Lykor’s rigid spine.
Turning slowly, Lykor’s eyes burned through the frost-filled air. “Why are youreallyhere?” he asked, his voice low and dangerous. Then, sharper, “Were you sent to ensure Aesar’s safety?”
Jassyn blinked. A flicker of irritation sparked at Lykor’s assumption, but guilt quickly smothered it.
Aesar hadn’t even crossed his mind. It wasn’t Aesar who needed him—it was Lykor. And the fact that Lykor believed an obligation to Aesar had drawn him here cut deeper than Jassyn had anticipated.But can I blame him?
