His flesh blistered, seared, peeling back the mask he wore for the world. The markings across his chest ignited crimson,pulsing like molten metal beneath his skin. The fire spread, carving through every nerve, every breath, until he thought he might shatter.
Rune clenched his jaw and endured it. He needed the agony. It was all that kept the hunger leashed.
So he let the sun flay him.
It burned until his flesh blackened and sloughed away with embers and ash, like wood collapsing in fire. Each searing wave burned away the rage, the hunger, the darker voice that whispered her name.
Because this was his penance.
His reminder.
Of where he no longer belonged.
And what the light would never forgive.
CHAPTER 21
Alora
Alora woke to a soft pulse of light. It shimmered across the ceiling above her bed, like moonlight filtering through water. She stirred beneath the blankets sleepily. The candles lit themselves in a quiet wave, casting golden flickers across the moss-covered floor.
The stone beneath her bed vibrated once, almost as if to gently shake her awake. The kitten rose and stretched with a yawn.
“Is it morning already?” Alora murmured as she sat up, rubbing her eyes.
The wall across from her reformed itself with the addition of a door, carved beautifully into the stone. Then a knock came.
Alora stared at it a moment, and her groggy mind instantly cleared with the events of last night. She gasped and looked around the strange room with no windows, yet somehow still allowed her to breathe. She gripped the silk sheets and wrappedthem around herself. The knock came again, and the kitten darted under the bed.
“Your Majesty,” came Calla’s voice. “May we come in?”
Alora stared at the door, her heart pounding. Strange that they were asking.
What if she said no?
“Karag Dûr won’t allow us to enter without your permission,” Calla said, sounding mildly offended. “Surely, you must be hungry. If you do not eat, our sire will come to call himself.”
Alora’s pulse jumped. She’d rather not see Rune yet.
“You may come in,” Alora said faintly.
But instead of using the door, Calla misted into the room with a swirl of black mist. Her lilac hair was braided back today, coiled neatly between her ram horns.
“Why would the mountain keep you out?” Alora asked, intrigued by that.
Calla folded her arms, studying the ceiling as though weighing the will of the stone itself. “Fastidious thing. We have never been denied entry to any chamber before. The mountain knows our fealty is sworn to our king, and thus that allegiance now binds us to you.” Her gaze settled on Alora. “We would give our lives for you, without question.”
A derisive scoff came from behind her.“Without question?”
Alora gasped, spinning around.
A dark shadow swiftly rustled past her, and she shrieked, stumbling back as a demon appeared atop the headboard.
Her heart pounded wildly as he gave her a slow, sharp smile, his tail flicking with lazy menace, like a predator savoring the moment before the strike. Small clusters of motes drifted around his shoulders, shimmering black as spilled oil. They hovered and fluttered like phantoms, fragmented faces catching the light in fleeting flashes of violet and blue, whispering as they moved.
Alora pressed a hand to her chest, fighting to slow her racing heart. Perhaps the Karag Dûr had reason to keep them out.
“Stop terrifying her, Deimos,” Calla ordered.
