Page 45 of Wraithwound

A person. She had tripped over a dying man. Lena had sensed death when she’d awoken but hadn’t had any time to comprehend what she’d felt. And now, now⁠—

The mass gathered in the air in front of her. It was beautiful, like a ball of energy, of pure light hovering there. It called to her.

She saw her eyes shift then. A thin ring in the center flared to life, burning gold just between her pupil and green irises. She suspected the golden ring appeared when she was experiencing strong emotions. The terror she sensed in her periphery solidified her theory. They were beautiful, her eyes. Mesmerizing and terrifying. Her blackened hand reached out—the strange skin an odd sight when compared to the blanket of snow around them, but no, it wasn’t her hand anymore. The wraith reached out and touched the glimmering mass, pulling it in.

The effect was instant. Her face, wan and sunken in, filled out, now radiating a healthy glow. Her eyes were clear and bright, her lips no longer cracked and dry. Lena knew the same transformation she’d seen on her face was also taking place under her clothes. She seemed to sit up straighter, an ease returning to posture.

The wraith stood, dropping Lena’s hands to her sides. Black pointed nails slid out of her fingers, and she knew that if the wraith wanted to or needed to, it could extend those sharp nails and use them as claws.

The wraith stretched her neck and rolled her shoulders as if brushing off the exhaustion and weeks of neglect her body had endured.

The creature that stood before the soldier was entirely foreign. Strong, assured, and horrible. Her beauty a different kind of weapon. A lure. The wraith tilted her head up to the sky, a smile forming on the corner of her lips as her feet left the ground. Suspended a foot above the ground in front of the soulbound soldier, a glittering black cloud began to form around her shoulders.

“FUCK!” he cursed.

Lena tore her gaze away from what used to be her body to glance at the soldier. He had unsheathed his sword and was now pushing something on a metal contraption strapped to his wrist. She watched on, amazed, as a little glass bottle popped out, and he brought it to his mouth. He used his teeth to pull the cork free and poured the contents down his blade. It erupted in a blaze of violet flames. She couldn’t find it within herself to be scared. Instead, she felt a sense of relief, knowing she would soon meet her end.

He drew his sword back to deliver a powerful blow. But instead of swinging the sword to sever the wraith’s head, he turned and deflected the blow of another sword alight with green flames. Surprise coursed through her as she realized he fought another soulbound.

In her detached state she felt a vague sense of worry as she realized the soldier she’d saved turned his back to her. It. The wraith’s face, her face, snapped to the right, away from him, and towards the expanse of field beyond them. Lena thought to warn him when he deflected another blow from the soulbound wielding the sword with green flames and managed to shove him back. Then, he pulled another vial from his wrist and shattered it on the ground at the wraith’s feet. The explosion that followed knocked her consciousness back into her body and into oblivion.

Chapter

Thirty-Seven

Aprickling sensation in her leg roused her from sleep, or unconsciousness. She wasn’t sure which one. Lifting her head, she realized she’d been shackled at the ankle to a tree and set down at an odd angle, causing her leg to fall asleep. Disappointment flooded through her and then devolved into something cold. Why was she still alive? Why was she still forced to endure this hell? The wraith had won; she could sense it, and she was so very tired of carrying the weight of a promise she couldn’t keep.

“You didn’t answer my question,” the soldier said, crossing in front of his tent to sit at the fire.

Lena jumped. She hadn’t seen him standing there. Despite herself, she couldn’t help but notice he looked even better than the last time she’d seen him.

The pallor of his skin had improved, and he moved more gracefully. His breathing was even, and his eyes, blue flecked with brown, were bright. He also looked . . . clean. His dark brown hair was no longer matted to the side of his head, and he wore a new set of clothes. For some reason seeing him healthy took the edge off the anger that had been digging itself under her skin.

Instead of replying, Lena studied the shackle.

“What are you? Are you one of those creatures from the field at MontTier?” he asked.

“You mean one of those things with the wings? No,” she said flatly.

“But you’re not a wraith, so what are you?” he asked again, irritation leaking into his tone. His irritation grated at her, making her feel reckless.

“Oh, I am a wraith. Fully turned. Why is it that I’m still alive?” she snapped.

“How is it that I’m still alive? What did you do to me?” he snapped back. Irritation vacating his tone for full blown anger.

“That demonstration I put on in the field wasn’t enough for you?” she demanded. “You soulbounds have one job!”

“Yes, a job I can no longer do,” he shouted, “now I am dutybound to you!” The sound of his words rang in the silence between them. “At least until I can pay the debt that is owed,” he said through gritted teeth.

The man paced in front of the fire, and Lena got the sense he was talking more to himself than he was to her.

“Who was the other soldier?” Lena asked slowly, just now remembering the man he’d protected her from. Another soulbound no doubt, if the flaming green sword was any indication.

“Taryk. He won’t be far behind seeing as how he saw your demonstration.”

“So, what now?” Lena asked.

“We’ve got to keep moving,” he replied.