Time stops.
I wait for his eyes to return to mine. For some kind of regret to pool in them at what he’d just uttered. But there is none. He looks at me without apology. Straight. Sure.
His hand drops away from my face, and my heart fills with regret at the loss.
Zarrek returns, now holding a bowl of dried fruit. “Here. Before you pass out.”
I smile awkwardly, take it, then frown. Before Zarrek can speak, Kailorien reaches out again, plucking the bowl from my hands.
“She doesn’t like these,” he says, picking out the nuts one by one and eating them himself. He returns the bowl. Simple. Natural. Like breathing.
“You remembered?” I whisper.
“After watching you leave them all over the tent for the last few weeks, how could I not?”
I struggle to take another breath.
It’s too much.
Heis too much.
I stand. Mumble something.
And run.
I don’t know where I’m going, only that if I stay another second, I might burst into flames. He might even watch me burn without blinking. All the while, his voice follows me in memory. Commanding—no, demanding—that I beg for more.
And the worst part?
I want to.
Even now.
Even as I flee.
I don’t run far, but by the time I reach the bank of the Serevyn, my breaths are shallow, my head light. Lately, I tire too easily, no matter how carefully I ration my magic. A nuisance, this small and fragile shell. Though I cannotremember the shape I was before I woke, I know it was not this—this form that hungers, thirsts, shivers in the cold.
The river welcomes me like it always does—quiet, silver, still. I step closer, drawn by habit, by comfort, by something older than either. My fingers hover over the water’s surface, trembling.
“Serevyn-sola’ren,” I whisper. “I see you.”
The river murmurs back, gentle and knowing. Without mana, the words blur and fade, like a voice shouting through a curtain of rain. I touch the water, smiling at its steady pulse.
It keeps murmuring. Some things come through. Others don’t. Within its tales of mountains, snow, and melting ice, it tells me of the coming Dark. Of things crawling from its depths.
Taking a breath, I exhale mana towards the water. Sharing what I can. Embracing it. But I can do no more. Just that small task makes me dizzy.
“Forgive me, friend. I must save my strength for when it’s needed.”
I sit on the bank, pull my knees to my chest, and let the cold seep into my bones. It’s better this way. Better than the heat I’ve carried since the feast fire. Better than the strange, helpless ache lodged between my thighs since reading the journal.
Ever since I’d stopped the Serevyn from claiming the company more than two weeks ago, my stamina has dwindled steadily downwards. My body is drawn, too light one moment and too heavy the next. Even speaking with Astenos leaves me winded. And my dreams…
Dark things lurk in them now. Shadows descending. A shiver races down my spine. I press my palms to my ears.
‘She doesn’t understand what she is…What she does to me…
Auryn…beg for me.’
