Page 45

The Serpent sprinted through his body; vision unable to keep up with where it wanted him to look. Pricks of electricity lit the surface of his skin, pointing him to one corner of the room, then the next. He felt surrounded, yet no one else was here.

“Somewhere safe,” Brialis said, red anger creasing her aura.

Dry, rapid chittering scuttled above. Draven looked up, seeing nothing but darkness and dust sprinkling down from the vaulted ceiling.

A dim, purple light bloomed into existence.

It launched toward him.

The Serpent pulled him away to the right side of the room. He manifested in a shadow, barely able to catch his breath before the heavy, black blur leaped at him. Draven dodged the attack as it crashed into the wall. Before he could regain his footing, something sharp and weighted gripped the back of his neck and violently shoved him face first to the floor.

Ringing filled his ears, and stars blotted his vision. The Serpent breached his body, and though it thrashed with solidified shadows as sharp as knives, he stayed stuck to the ground.

His senses returned to him fully when an inky black figure crept out of the debris cloud behind his sister.

It crawled on all fours—stiff joints scraping together with every bend of its long limbs. It came to a halt, twisting its head awkwardly in his direction, face obscured by what looked like a sleek helmet. Purple swept across the visor where its eyes should be. Once. Twice. On the third pass, it turned black again.

It produced a low, rapid wave of clicks, like the steady strum of a rusted chain. A hiss of steam escaped from somewhere within its parts. Its body must’ve loosened because it rose upright all too fluidly. Its skinny legs shouldn’t be able to hold the weight, yet it stood. It looked almost human, but whatever it was, it wasn’t living.

Brialis stepped into view. “He didn’t have the stomach to end your life, but I do.”

The Serpent raged, its shadows clashing against the frame of the machine, but it did nothing, not even leave scratches or marks in the shell.

Draven, however, remained calm, breathing through the pain in hopes he could quiet his soul. If Brialis made good on her threat, then he’d welcome the chance to separate himself from the Serpent. “Then do it. Kill me. I won’t fight you.”

Brialis’ once clear aura was now consumed with bright, furious red, but she did nothing, as if she was debating whether or not she wanted to. “Tell me where he is.”

He? “You’re going to have to be more specific.”

Her anger blazed like a fire doused with oil. She spat a command he didn’t understand. Behind him, that same chittering echoed in response.

Draven was jerked to his feet and thrown against the wall. The machine moved toward him, grabbing him by the shoulder and trapping him in place with a cold, jagged hand. It was identical to the one now standing by her side, but this one’s torso twisted and curved in all the wrong places.

Brialis stomped as close as she could, rage contorting her face. “My son!”

Draven fought for air. Of course there’d be more devils with their name to torment the land. “I didn’t know you had a son.”

“How did she know he’d be there? Where did she take him? Rimore?”

“She? You mean the Gnaw? Its vessel successfully stole your son and you still call her a coward?” He chuckled, the sound strained. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, but if the Gnaw’s reputation is as fearsome as it used to be, then he’s already dead.”

What Draven wanted was to aggravate his sister to the point of snapping, but instead, she quieted, staring at him with less rage and more disappointment. “I know what you did that night of ashen rain.”

He stilled, and his tongue tempered. His mind wandered back to him above Valen, the beat of the Guardian’s energy in his palm. What? What did I do?

Brialis approached, placing a hand on the back of the machine holding him. Silently, it lifted its other hand, placing a sharp, metallic finger at his chest where Caine had run him through.

“Heartless,” she hissed. “That’s what some call you in Reave. Heartless for killing Imordials, for consuming their souls.” The tip of the machine’s clawed finger grazed his skin. “For turning on everything Valen believed in, everything he worked for, everything he gifted you, all to spare the one who takes away what we give.”

The machine breached his skin, drawing a pained gasp from Draven as he was thrust further back on the night of his death.

Keara Evelian’s eyes ripped into him—piercing through the darkness that swallowed the last year like a beam of light. Everything disappeared after he took the Serpent, and then suddenly, there she was. He had her pinned to the ground with one hand around her throat, the other drawing the Wraith from her body.

Her long silver plait was matted with dirt and ash. Her wrinkled ivory skin was turning blue beneath the vice of his grip, her nails digging into his wrist as if she could pry him away.

And that’s where Draven faltered. In his delirium, he provided the perfect opportunity for her to simply kill him with her touch.

But she didn’t. Why?