I suck in a few desperate breaths and blink back tears. I’m okay. It’s okay. I have a purpose, and when that’s done, when the spell book is collected and Rev out of this cursed place, I can fall apart.
I will fall apart.
I won’t survive him leaving. I realize that now. Because the darkness of this place, the curse, the death everywhere, it’s slowly suffocating me.
“Caelynn,” the wraith says more firmly. “Are you all right?”
“No, of course not.” I rub my face rigorously and then stand up straight. “I’m fine. It’s fine. Let’s go.”
I continue jumping over the murky water, feet balancing gently on each smooth footstone. Other than the smell, there isn’t much significance about this place. There are faces beneath the surface here. Bodies of fallen fae, I’m guessing, stuck in a state of recent death. Perhaps there is more to it. Perhaps they’re all me. I don’t know. I don’t allow myself to look closely enough.
I’m too busy trying not to throw up or pass out as the air grows thicker with fog. As ash rains from the sky.
“Slow down,” the wraith barks.
I run faster, leaping over the stones.
“It is not a race, Caelynn,” he yells like a father reprimanding a foolish child.
Yes, it is. It’s a race to see if I’ll fall apart before I make it to the edge of this swamp.
“If you fall in, you’ll never come out. One touch of the water...”
“You’re not helping!” I yell. My limbs are numb, my breath shaking.
“Stop if you must,” he says more gently. “Collect yourself.”
“I can’t,” I breathe. I pull at the shadows near me to fuel me. To comfort me like they have so many times. Instead, they suck me dry.
I scream as I realize, they are not my friend. Here in this place, even the shadows are against me. I force my magic to the front of my mind, and I dive through shadows full of teeth and resistance, and I leap. Why does the bank seem to be growing farther and farther?
I shadow leap again, screaming in agony as I do. Even my own magic is working against me now.
“Caelynn!” the wraith hollers. “If you miss even one step—”
I leap again, his voice cutting off.
“I cannot catch you!”
I leap again, farther now. I stop breathing. My vision is rimmed with red. My head throbbing. I don’t know if I’m going to make it.
Again. And again. One more, I tell myself.
One more, I say again.
ONE MORE—I throw everything I have into it because if I don’t make it to the bank I will fall here and now, and I will never rise from those waters. I don’t know what’s in them. I don’t care. Even if they were pure spring water, I’d be done for.
I fall to my knees the moment I hit soggy ground, fingers digging into the dirt. It’s... warm. Tears fall freely now, splashing over my fingers, which I realize are coated in red.
My hand is slick with bright red blood. My stomach heaves and this time, it’s not a false alarm.
I haven’t eaten in over a day, but the small contents of my stomach unfurl themselves onto the blood-soaked ground. A dismembered finger lies just feet ahead. Mangled flesh lines the whole bank, and I almost pass out.
“Move, Caelynn,” the wraith orders. “Over there. I’d carry you if I could, but...”
My limbs don’t have the ability to carry me now. But I look to where he’s pointing. At the bottom of a mountain, there is a short stretch of open ground where it seems the seeping wound ends. I swallow.
Block it out, Cae. If there is one thing you’ve always been good at, it’s blocking out the worst bits. Focus and move.
I close my eyes and push through my pain. I keep my eyes closed, and I crawl over the mushy ground. My whole body trembles. I picture a simple swamp of dirt and algae. That’s all this is, I tell myself.
My nose tells a different story. I cannot block out the smell of putrid flesh. I stop and wretch a second time, still not daring to open my eyes.
“Keep going,” the wraith whispers. “You’re doing good. Keep moving. I’ll tell you when you can rest.”
Rest, I think. It sounds like such a lovely word. But I don’t even know what that feels like. My bottom lip trembles and tears begin their stream down my cheeks again.
Why was this so hard? Why now?
Because he abandoned you, a voice whispers.
No, I think.
He thinks you’re dead. And he doesn’t care. The darkness presses in on me. It bites at my soul, carving away pieces of it. Bit by bit. My own shadows that once comforted me. That once held me like a parent when I had none.
My heart roars with the pain of a final heartbreak—of betrayal.
This is how I will die. This is what my life has come to.
“Keep going, Caelynn. You are strong. So much stronger than they think.” He’s shouting now. Can he see how close I am to giving up? “Prove it to them!”
But what if they’re right? I don’t even have the energy to say the words aloud.
“A few more feet,” he coaches.
I force my muscles on.
I can do this, I think. I won’t stop until I can’t anymore.
“One more,” he whispers.
My hand reaches a powdery substance, and I push again until my knees are on dry ground. My body collapses there in a fit of sobs.
“Shh,” my wraith coos over my fallen body.
My breaths are quick and shallow, my mind spinning. I curl my fingers into the dry dirt. It sticks and clots over my blood-soaked hands, but I don’t care. I cling to it.
Smokey and thick, the air is no more comforting than before. It hurts to breathe in, burning my lungs, but I gulp it in anyway.
“You made it, dear,” he tells me. “You’re very strong, my girl.”
“Doesn’t feel like it,” I whisper.
“Trust me. You are.”
Rev
Slowly, my mind clears from the haze set over it. I can’t see anything more than before—pitch black. I taste bitter smoke in every pained breath.
The poison stings inside my veins, tingling uncomfortably, but the burn has settled into a dull ache. Every muscle weighs a hundred pounds, but my mind is clearing, heart picking up speed as I remember what’s happened.
Caelynn didn’t make it through the fire wall. She’s gone.
My heart cracks all over again. It’s what she wanted. To die here. But I wanted to prove her wrong so badly. I wanted to give something, anything, back to her.
She’d lost so much.
I failed.
Then, I was taken by the manticore, so I’ve failed myself too.
I push against my heavy restraints but find they have not changed. Wood curls against my chest and arms, gripping them like strong arms, sharp branches digging in like fingers.
I blink rapidly, trying to adjust to the darkness, but I can’t make out anything.
Is the manticore nearby? I don’t hear him now. I only feel the dark presence of something... ancient. Powerful.
I shiver. The Night Terror is here.
“He wakes.” The branches holding me tremble along with the deep voice.
I cough. “What do you want?”
Something shifts before me. A being massive but smooth. Power sizzles through the darkness. The Night Terror doesn’t respond.
Why hold me like this? “Don’t you want to kill me and be done with it?”
“Killing you did seem convenient once upon a time, yes. But unfortunately for you, my little pet, I’ve found a better purpose for you.”
A blade presses to my back, carving through my leather clothing and splitting the skin. I groan and squirm to no avail. The blade halts at a shallow cut.
A shape moves through the darkness, and my breath shudders. What is she?
“Pain is enjoyable. But it is not all I desire from your extended life. Would you like to see what I see, my pet?”
I curl my lip.
&
nbsp; “Your mate has made it through the swamp.”
Caelynn is alive? My heart bursts with hope only to crash back down. I am here, and it’s only a matter of time before they get their hands on her too. She told me herself the moment she learned they had me, she’d come running.
The tree vibrates beneath me, purring like a pleased kitten.
We were supposed to fight together. We could have—
“Did you really think you had a chance against me, foolish child? No better than a hopeful puppy. Even together, you could not defeat me. You cannot win this battle.” The voice shifts and cool puffs of air hit my cheek.
I let out a pained breath, lungs burning. Caelynn isn’t dead yet, but maybe she was right all along. To win this game, she has to die. Loss washes over me again. I was just stupid to think there was hope to save her. Stubborn and foolish.
“Foolish, indeed.” The powerful voice sends waves of terror through me. “To think that victory would be so easy. Your mate’s death would be only the beginning, my pet.”
The massive slumping form shifts to the other side. “How loyal are you, dog?” She breathes on my neck. “That is what I wonder. You vowed to protect the world. Would you choose your mate over your duty? Or will you allow her to face her worst nightmares to save you over and over again? What will you do, dog, when I carve into her body like a knife through butter?”
Agony wracks through my body, muscles clenching at the thought of her pain.
“Will you endure her screams to retain your honor? Or will you do exactly as I ask to save her?”
“Where is she,” I grumble, pulling at the tight restraints over my arms and chest.
“Would you like to see? It’s quite a sad sight, I’ll warn you. But oh, I suppose I could oblige for a moment or two.”
My vision flashes, a landscape appearing before me. The swamp. I’m far over the water glistening softly.
Shadows puff in and out, traveling farther and farther over the waters. Once, twice, a third time.
Is she shadow walking?
“I have always admired that ability. Of course, the only reason she has it is because my mate gave it to her. She is only strong because of him. And soon, her strength will be ours.”
Caelynn falls to the bank on her hands and knees, and blood splatters. My stomach sinks. I don’t even know if the vision is real, but my soul cries out to her. Be okay, Caelynn. Please.
“Don’t you see it, my pet?”
I jump as sharp claws run down my cheek. My vision is still entirely on the swamp, seeing something not even here. I can’t even be sure it’s real...
“Your mate is dying. Would you like to watch as she wastes away? It’s so achingly slow,” the creature draws, her finger carving down my chest, a caress that splits the skin. I can feel the warm blood pooling on my skin, dripping slowly, though all I see is Caelynn.
The image shifts, circling as Caelynn crawls through several hundred feet of dismembered limbs.
“That’s my handy work, you know?” the Night Terror brags. “There are so many of them—bodies unaltered—at the bottom of that swamp. The perfect medium for my art.”
There is no pattern or beauty to the placement of the body parts. She just enjoyed carving them up. I’d believe science over art.
Caelynn crawls desperately, her body moments from giving out. She gags into the piles of bodies. Get up, I think. Keep fighting.
There is a wraith hovering over her. My hands clench into fists. Is he helping her or hurting her? I can’t tell if he cares for her at all, or if he only wants something from her like she suggests.
Caelynn continues pushing forward then finally, falls onto her face in the mud just past the pile of body parts.
“She is giving up,” the beast whispers delicately, and a sob builds in my chest.
“If she dies,” I whisper, voice hoarse, heartbroken—but angry. Vindictive. “You lose.”
A roar of laughter sends shockwaves over my body. The tree beneath me vibrates with pleasure. “If only you knew how wrong you are, my pet.”
“What do you mean?” I breathe. I’m sure I shouldn’t be conversing with this thing no matter what. The vision might not even be true. Her words very well could be complete fabrications, but I can’t help it. My wounded soul is thirsty for understanding.
“Caelynn’s death would result in her losing her ability to reverse my curse. This is true. But,” the branches clench around me, squeezing me so tightly I can’t breathe, “there is a difference between the death of the body and death of the soul.”
The branches loosen their grip, and air rushes back through my lungs.
“If she gives up and allows herself to die, her soul would die first. And it’d be all too easy for my mate to keep her body alive just long enough for his magic to revive her. There are two ways we can achieve our goals. One is convincing Caelynn to do our bidding. That is where you come in, child. She is in love with you. Pathetic as you may be. She has proved time and time again that she will give anything for you. But that is only my backup plan. I have an easier scheme in mind.”
The Night Terror slithers around me, her voice echoing. She still shows me the vision of Caelynn lying in the mud with the wraith wafting over her.
“We will break her,” the Night Terror whispers in my ear. “And indeed, we are so very close already.”
No.
“We will dismantle her soul piece by piece until she gives up entirely. Her soul is so very dim already. When it dies, and it will, she will lose the ability to control his magic. He will regain its control, and then he would have everything he’d ever need.”
My blood runs cold. “Because his magic is inside of her.” Shit.
I see it now. Why they backed off. Why the wraiths spied but never confronted. Why even the manticore looked us in the eye but then turned around, leaving us with no more than a few disturbing words.
They were waiting for Caelynn to give up. To let herself die.
That’s what’s been happening to her. That’s why she’s been so exhausted, her magic so volatile. I was right—I was losing her. And the wolf was right—the Night Bringer’s magic is the key to their success. They’re suffocating her from the inside out.
“Yes,” she whispers. “He can only use it if she destroys herself first. She is so very close to that fate. Now, we will simply enjoy the show...”
“No,” I whisper. My despair explodes from my chest, rushing from my dark prison, seeking my mate. Find her. Keep her safe. I beg, knowing it’s more than futile.
Rage swells in my chest, burning so hot I can hardly contain it. White-hot flame burst forth from my chest, completely outside of my control, and my tree prison parts, writhing in pain. Its hiss echoes through my mind, but I stumble forward.
A small whisper of white light flashes from my chest, shooting away into the darkness.
MY BOOTS SINK INTO the muck as I run, feet pumping over the ashen ground, slick with the blood of long-dead, unknown fae.
She’s only feet ahead, blond hair spread wide, face pale as snow. I fall to my knees beside her and grip her shoulders tightly.
“Ow,” she mumbles, face crumpled in pain. “Rev?”
A desperate cry of relief escapes me, and without thinking, I crash my lips onto hers, just needing to feel her, be near her.
My magic follows, hurtling through her, frantic to find the cause of her ailment. To help her. Fix her. Heal her.
Her back arches and she groans against my lips, a much more pleasant sound than the last.
“Rev,” she says again.
I pull back, lips and magic alike, and peer into her pitch-black eyes.
“What happened?” I ask.
“What happened to you? He said you left... you...”
“I... the manticore took me. I was trapped.”
Her face crumbles. Agony covers every feature.
“I’m okay now,” I whisper. “I’m here.” My fingers drift over her cheek.
The wraith hisses. “You were trapped by her? Then how are you here now?”
I narrow my eyes at the wraith.
“She wouldn’t let you go once in her grasp.” He turns and begins to pace back and forth, barely hovering over the ground. “It doesn’t make sense,” he mutters.
“I used my magic against my restraints and...”
“Foolish child. Your magic is strong against wraiths, but it would do no better than any other against hers. She only released you if she wanted you released.”
I blink rapidly as my vision blinks to solid black darkness and then back. The pressure of tree limbs crushes my chest against its trunk. It’s hard to breathe.
“Caelynn.” I turn my attention back to the beautiful fae in my arms, the fae so very close to losing her life and her soul. I would blame myself if she did. I didn’t do enough. There must have been more I could have done to give her hope, to give her life.
If she gives up now, he’ll take over. He’ll win.
“Caelynn,” I whisper, tears in my eyes. I lean in and press my lips gently to hers just before the Night Terror rips me back into her clutches.
Caelynn
Ash falls from the sky, drifting gently toward my arms blotched with dirt and blood. My eyelids flutter as I watch it land on my forearm and stick.
“Rev?” I groan, rolling onto my stomach awkwardly and pulling myself onto my hands and knees.
“Rev left you, remember?” My wraith’s voice is quiet, but there is a bite to his words. He doesn’t like me talking about Rev.
“No. He was here. He was just here...”
The wraith sighs. “Child, you are seeing things.”
I press my eyes closed. “No,” I whisper. I still feel it. His magic filled me for a moment. He was trying to heal me from my imaginary wounds. He can’t heal me from what’s destroying me from the inside. The magic, the curse, is sucking me dry. Or maybe it’s the hopelessness of my situation. Maybe Rev was right. Maybe I have given up.
“He’s not here?”
“No, child,” my wraith says.
“Why are you helping me?” I ask, lying back down on the ashy ground. Behind me only a few hundred feet, the slope of the mount begins. There, somewhere, the spell book is hidden. So close.
Soul of Thorns (Wicked Fae Book 3) Page 13