Smoke and blood still burned her nose as she blinked and stared up at the Veil wall.
Screaming filled her ears, such a painful and scared noise. It felt like it was coming from her throat, but the sound didn’t fit her lungs. It didn’t fit the absolute fury that lived in her spirit.
Something writhed in her jaws and on instinct, she clamped down. Bone crunched, blood filled her mouth, and then her shadows became blades. They tore and ripped flesh and bone with a rage that she’d been trained to cage inside her chest.
She didn’t care that she was drowning in the anger and the blood. She just destroyed.
And when there was nothing left to shred and the screaming still pierced her ears, she turned.
A child, so frail and terrified, with a bleeding gash on her skull and a purple obsidian shard burned into her collarbone.
Brela leaned closer and inhaled. Smoke and blood and nothing.
Alei so’nim.
A small tendril of shadow licked across her neck, and before she could think better of it, she grabbed that blackness and yanked. Cold liquid showered over her as pain ripped through her body, but she held fast. The thunderous howl was the last thing echoing over her own scream as the celvusa released its teeth from her and she sank into darkness.
34
A Grand Return to the Living
Cason heard her pained whimper like a rope tugging on his senses. That new desire to wrap his arms around her when she was in pain pulled him out of his dreamless sleep. But when he rolled over to draw her into his arms, there was only sand.
He groaned and collapsed back to his bedroll, staring up at the night sky. Brela’s sound had been from far away, of course. She hadn’t slept next to him this entire trip, yet he still woke up reaching for her whenever he heard those whimpers.
Brela hadn’t come back to the fire since talking with Oni by the pits. He’d tried to keep his senses on her, not trusting the crystal prince who had once shoved a sixteen-year-old Brela into that arena. Hells, at one point in the conversation she looked like she might dive in herself. But whatever they were talking about, the sand sprite made sure Cason couldn’t hear.
Oni had studied Brela’s notes about shadow magic, too. Lesnibhol had reassured Cason that it was possible that magic could help them understand the wall. The more information, the better, she’d said, because there were ancient minds in the Crystal Desert that might be able to help.
He’d sensed the lie in her voice quite easily. The sprites believed the wall was going to break, and there was no stopping whatever was coming through.
Cason couldn’t shake Oni’s warning about it from earlier—his pleading to stop whatever Anfroy was doing— because it wasn’t said to their group. Even crystal and sand couldn’t hide that the prince had looked directly at Brela as if she could stop an army.
Maybe Oni knew about what she’d done in Calcheth. Or maybe because he’d seen her take down a vaarasuxa and competed against sand sprites, he believed she was capable of stopping all of this.
Maybe Oni thought her status as the Veil Scholar would give her power to plead with Ryia, assuming the shadow god would even listen.
None of it made sense, and Brela seemed content to keep whatever secrets she and Oni shared.
It was enough for Cason to need to start counting again so his fire didn’t become more than a small flicker in his chest.
He needed to remember his only mission was to get information about the wall and protect Serill. Brela was still protecting them, and to betray them after putting her life between Oni, the vaarasuxa, and him didn’t make sense. She could keep her secrets, because he still believed that whatever they were, she wouldn’t put Serill in danger over them.
As long as she still got them through Valisea, that’s all that mattered.
That didn’t stop it from hurting when she’d stomped off without a word; without a glance in his direction.
Since Farrah and Elias let her go, the former giving him a shake of her head to warn him not to follow, he decided to just sleep. He could talk to her tomorrow when they left.
Cason’s senses flickered again, this time as he picked up vague words. Brela’s voice, but distant and strained. It didn’t surprise him that she was having some nightmare. She’d told him that it was common after something triggered her memories. Being around Oni and the vaarasuxa was likely one of those triggers.
That prickling feeling didn’t fade, running from the base of his skull to his right arm. Even his chest could feel his senses flaring, no doubt a connection between the sun-blessed affinities. The constant suppression of his fire was probably to blame as well. Once they got out of the desert, he’d need to release some of that pressure.
After another whimper, Cason grumbled and sat up, surprised that Farrah and Elias hadn’t intervened.
He blinked. They were still asleep, but in the opposite direction of the noise.
And Brela wasn’t on her bedroll.
