The ground trembles at the vegodian words “I didn’t want any of this,” and a rush of vibrant light pulses through the air. Mum gasps, stepping back as I lean forward, hands on my chest, my breathing heavy with frustration and exhaustion. White light glows, and the moonflowers stand erect, breathing flakes of glittering white dust into the air.
“Vegodian,” Mum breaths, a slight smile on her face as she holds Cole tighter. “That’s it, Saya. Focus on these powers. This is you.” Hazel eyes lower to mine, and she steps forward to rest her hand on my cheek. “Forgive me for not seeing you sooner. And as much as I want to teach you, your Blessed will be here soon.”
With a sharp exhale, I step forward mechanically, taking Cole from her arms. “Where should we go?”
Mum points to the Slayer Sea. “Follow it, and you will find our Life Tree. She will be waiting for you, and will take you somewhere safe.”
I hold Cole close, my hand cradling the back of his head. “Where?”
Mum shakes her head, tears springing to her eyes. “I don’tknow. All I know is that you and Cole will be safe and far from your Blessed, okay?”
“And if he finds me?”
A stern glint hardens her features as she says, “Caet mu o.”
Don’t let her take you, kamai.
The nightwalker’s voice cuts through the darkness. I open my eyes, wincing at the light of the flames from the bone torches lining the path. The fire suffocates the air, making it feel dense. My skin protests, and I shy away from the stinging heat and lean closer to the coolness pressed against me.
His hands grip my flesh around my waist and legs.
Moonlight spills in from the fissure above, perfectly illuminating the path of skulls.
Creatures prowl around us while the nightwalker climbs the mountain of rubble, bleeding bodies, and picked-clean bones. The creatures swarm, and he bears his fangs, bursting with a quivering anger. He takes another step, crunching through brittle skulls, when a clawed hand breaks through from underneath the debris. The nightwalker hisses as the hand grips his leg.
“Inge kahazen!” the nightwalker spits.
“What—” An ache in my chest scrapes against my ribcage, and a tightening in my throat threatens to hold my words back. “What did you say?”
The nightwalker kicks free from the creature’s grip and presses on, advancing up the mountain of death. “I said, ‘damn monsters’ in Daryun. There are a lot more than I expected. Instead of trying to reach the surface, they craveyou.”
Another creature approaches, and the nightwalker sends a swirl of shadows to envelop the beast. Guttural cries emanate from the writhing mass, and an arm, followed by a shattered eyeball roll away from it. A river of dark blood flows. The nightwalker slips through the stream of black blood as rotting corpses fall from above, the chasm crumbling a little more with every quake.
My mind sharpens when another ache strikes me. Primal hunger grips my throat like a hand trying to crush it, tightening with desire. My eyes settle on his neck…
“It’s closing,” he says. “But we’re close.”
Darkness grips me again, and I sink into his arms, then oblivion.
The ground trembles, and I fall forward, hands that aren’t mine sinking into the charred, blackened soil. Fire licks up buildings, and bodies lie in bloody streaks across the battlefield.
What? Where am I?
The body I am in moves, and I am nothing but a passenger in their mind. Panic slips from a hoarse throat, and they sprint ahead while bursts of dirt and sharpened explosions create a ringing in their ears, dampening all sound.
They fall again, and when they stand, a man is waiting with his gun poised to shoot.
“Please,” my body says, the voice a deep croak, dry and filled with pain. “Please, don’t kill me.”
The man, stained red and brown, dispassionately rests his finger on the trigger.
“Ardulgyu prus urot!”Light zips across the throat of the man with the gun, and his head rolls from his shoulders before his body falls, revealing a teenage girl standing behind him. She lowers her glowing blue sword, leans down and looks at the person I am trapped inside of. Dressed in a tightly fitted yellow outfit, her silver eyes glisten like the stars, and her white, moonlit hair is tied back. Bloody streaks stain her.
“You’re a vegodian,” the body I inhabit says.
She moves closer and tilts her head to one side. “Are you wounded, boy? Your parents? Can you walk?”
“No,” I—he says, hiding the cut on his knee. “No parents,” he chokes out, and wetness leaks down his cheeks. “And yes. I can walk.”
