The sensation coursing through me was similar to when I fed from others, when their blood sang through me and made me feel alive.
This, though, it wasn’t as brief.
It was a constant.
And much more intense.
It hadn’t abated since I’d asked him to take away the nastiness of theshadowed nothingnessthat Temperance had created as a means to trap me forever.
To pull me from the world, from everything I knew, and shackle me in unending stasis.
When I’d done nothing to them or the world.
When I’d gone to every effort to downplay what I was.
When I’d tried so hard not to present myself as a threat.
When I’d been kind, understanding, and peaceable.
When I’d even denied the higher level of my necromantic side to appease them.
It wasn’t enough for them.
And Ruxnoth was right—it never would be.
The fact that this creation existed was proof enough of that.
Outside of my family and my loves, there was no place for me.
The world didn’t want me.
“Winter.”
I blinked through my reverie at the sound of that voice—rumbling yet reassuring.
Comforting.
I looked out to see Ruxnoth standing before me.
He had been the entire time.
I knew that.
On some level I knew that.
It was me who hadn’t been fully here.
The sensations were so immersive, it was hard to remain cognizant.
No. More than that. It was hard to want to remain cognizant.
I just desired to sink into it, soak it up, every rare moment of it.
It had been constant so far, but it couldn’t last.
He’d said it wasn’t time for that yet.
That I wasn’t ready for it to be, as much as he wished it could already be otherwise.
