The screams. They are the wailings of something dying. And it’s not coming from Ryet.
It’s coming from the scions. They are stumbling away, passing out as they go. Falling face first and?—
“Dead,” Paul says. But he’s not laughing now. “You fucked with me first, old man. You wanted more than your share.”
I don’t even wait for the explanation. Clearly, Paul has poisoned Ryet’s blood in such a way that it kills my scions when they ingest his blood. And my only chance now is to get Ryet, if only so Paul can’t save him.
I swoop down in the shape of Darkness, scoop Ryet up in my arms, and then retreat into the lodge, expecting a fight.
Morphing back into Josep, I hold Ryet in my arms like a baby, waiting for Paul’s attack.
But Paul doesn’t follow me.
And when I look outside, he’s gone.
