“You told me it would be okay,” the singsong tone echoes with his words.
Horror sinks its sharp teeth into my soul, latching on and draining me of my will to continue.
Those words have haunted me in nightmares, ones that I haven’t dared share with another person. I had screamed them until my throat was raw as Hanin’s charred body laid on the ground as the fire engulfed my home.
It will be okay, I promise Hanin. It’ll be okay, I’ll find a healer, I’ll find someone…
But it had been too late. He’d been gone for gods knows how long. He was only warm due to the dark licks of the flames that had been on his body.
I scuttle back from the apparition, the cloying scent of smoke and rot lingering now.
He takes a step towards me and repeats his words from before, “You told me it would be okay,lykyng.”
The icy breeze returns, ripping any semblance of warmth from my body. The swirling fog thickens until all I can see is the ghastly spirit in front of me, the skin flaking off like dark grey ash being blown away.
“You’re not him.” A sob tears from my throat.
The bouncy curls toss in the wind, becoming dull and ratted right before my eyes. The figure continues to move closer to me and panic blooms, constricting in my throat.
A whimper escapes, “You’re not him.”
I close my eyes to the sight. It’s too much, too disturbing—it leaves me utterly hopeless and lost.
A ghostly tendril caresses my cheek until nails begin to dig into my cheeks, clawing at my face like razors.
“The spirits only test you,laochra.”
A loud, smokey voice shakes me from my imaginings, “Don’t let them win,little warrior.”
My eyelids fly open and I’m still standing next to Dahla, hands on her reins.
I sob and try to catch my breath between each heartwracking weep.
“Do not consider yourself weak, little warrior.” The deep vibrato reaches my ears and I search for where it comes from.
The Devourer clings to the embankment, only his head and the arm that grasps the makeshift rope, visible.
His eyes look wild, riddled with something I can’t name.
They’re vivid, focused solely on me as he continues to shout, “You may not believe it, but by the gods I do. You are not weak.”
The vein ticks in his forehead as he visibly strains against the weight beneath him.
He’s still holding on despite everything.
He could easily let go of Caym but he doesn’t, instead he chooses to help even though the situation feels impossible.
I force myself to take a slow step backwards, pulling Dahla with me. The Devourer’s forearm steels, the veins popping in his thickly corded arm. Gods he’s stronger than I gave him credit for.
His upper half becomes more visible as he pulls himself upwards, hauling Caym with him.
He’s almost up on the ledge when I hear a tiny ripping sound. Our eyes crash into each other and the color blanches from his face.
I don’t think, I just act.
As the fabric tears I jump with all my might and grab hold of the torn strips.
I land with a thud on my belly, knocking the wind from my lungs.
