“Why do I feel this connection to you, Devourer?”
He scoffs, the mask cracking.
“You can’t stand to see me as something other than a monster, can you?”
I let the silence build. He’s right, my compulsion to hold those accountable battles with my undeniable feelings toward him.
“What do you mean?” Another lie.
I relax my hands from the fists I had inadvertently formed. Moving my legs from beneath me, I straighten and stretch my back as I wipe the clammy sweat from my palms. My focus catches on my dress. Noticing the soiled garment, I suddenly feel self—conscious. I pull at the hem in a poor attempt to straighten the damned thing.
“You call me Devourer. It’s as simple as that.” My eyes jolt to his face. “You refuse to name me.” With this, his eyes pop open, the same sullen hue coloring them.
If I could crawl inside myself and hide within my skin at his accusation, however truthful, I would.
They say The Devourer is ruthless. Wicked. Remorseless. A monster.
Monster.Much like myself, just in my own tormented way.
Surely if I dissected the worst parts of me, they’d reveal the same ashis.
I blink back the sting that threatens to blur my vision.
“As much as I’d love to continue this uplifting conversation, there are real problems we need to face.” My voice threatens to crack with the ache in my throat.
He continues to lay there, unmoved and unbothered. I look away, forcing myself to watch the small fire that dries Leeson and Caym’s clothing until my vision turns bleary from unshed tears.
A fissure begins to form in my chest, as if all the unspoken words from the last week would rupture. In one seemingly swift moment, The Devourer has gotten under my skin. His needling of indifference only perfects the tapestry of my shame.
The prospect of staying in this room longer is enough to have me pushing to my feet. With my rumpled hem in hand, I nudge him rather hard with my boot.
“Up. We’ve wasted enough time while you so leisurely napped.”
The callousness seeps off my sharp words.
I turn my back to him and saunter over to Caym and Leeson.
Wincing as I kneel on the grimy floor, I gently touch Leeson’s pale shoulder. Her unclothed body stirs under the dark blanket that’s wrapped around her and Caym.
Her honey—colored eyes slowly peel open.
“Why in gods’ names are you waking me?” Her sight hardens on me.
All I can do is offer her a small smile. “We can’t stay here, it’s forsaken.” This small respite has given us more than we bargained for. We couldn’t have known what lay before us upon entering Treach. “There’s nothing here worth saving, we have to go tell the council.”
The lump in my throat is back, but movement behind me has me choking down the emotion.
“What do you mean, ‘it’s forsaken’?” The Devourer’s words loom coolly in the air.
I rise again from the floor and twist to see him behind me, fully standing, shadowing me in his dim umbra.
Defiance, yet again, has me straightening my spine.
“The village had been ransacked. There are few survivors.”
His eyes darken, threatening something more sinister.
“Who?” The question spills from his lips like venom and my arms pebble.
