The very instant Vynasha’s feet crossed the threshold, her eyes were drawn to the mirror. Black stone, like the pillars that lined the castle entry hall, sprang from the floor as if it had grown naturally. She pulled from Grendall’s hold, abandoning his comforting touch to graze her clawed fingertips along the glassy surface.
“Smooth.” Her voice broke the thick silence with a whisper, and her hand traveled from obsidian rock to meet its blurred reflection in the mirror. No fine glass, like Ceddrych had once sent to their home in Whistleande from the capital city. No, this mirror was made of a different sort of stone, like finely polished opal and silver.
As she took in her reflection, Vynasha lifted her hand to trace her features. She didn’t recognize the golden beastly eyes, more like a wyldcat’s than human. Her skin was a light bronze rather than mottled, sickly ashen as it had been after the fire. Her figure seemed fuller, her limbs stronger. Strangest of all was the faint violet glow beneath her skin, pulsing through visible veins.
Vedmak’s ebony skin and horns were suddenly in her mind’s eye, alongside the woman with vines and leaves for hair, the little boy with hooves instead of feet, and all the other mirror folk she had seen from the village.
Grendall wrapped his arms around her waist and pressed a kiss to her cheek. His reflection glowed brighter at their touch, and her inner light pulsed in tune with his. They were twin creatures belonging to another world, beings of cursed and twisted majik.
Vynasha’s lips parted, revealing the tips of her teeth. She had felt the points against her tongue and lips before, beneath the pads of her fingers. But to see herself as others did was somehow worse. “How can you want me like this?”
Grendall’s mouth turned up at the corner. “Because I love you, and because to me, you have always been beautiful.”
Vynasha laughed, a husky, rasping sound that made her eyes widen and her throat ache. She could almost see it then, the woman her prince pretended to see, and she loved him for it.
Forgetting the importance of the mirror or the gate, Vynasha twisted to meet Grendall’s kiss. He was already leaning over her, a strong hand sweeping her up to meet him. He glowed so brightly she shut her eyes and instead let herself feel.
The first quake beneath their feet shook free each layer of dust so it fell like a light snow over their heads.
The second made Vynasha cling to Grendall with one hand and the mirror behind them with another. “What is that? What’s happening?”
His answer was cut off by a third rumble, which shook the castle’s foundations and enraged the beasts trapped within. Their cries and howls called to something deep within Vynasha’s bones, piercing through the marrow. No scream escaped her throat, yet tears slipped over her cheeks as Grendall tucked her into his chest and whispered soothingly to her in the old tongue.
“Master!” Odym pulled her back from whatever black abyss waited behind her closed lids by his arrival. “Do you have her? Is she safe?” He rushed to them, not floating on air but with the pounding of boots.
Vynasha opened her eyes to find the old wyne’s crinkled with worry. His flesh was more solid than it had been before, revealing fine details in his face for the first time. Vynasha stumbled to her feet and wrapped her arms around her friend with a sob. “You’re all right!”
You won’t fade like Hvalla did.
A shuddering sigh passed through the wyne as he carefully returned her embrace. “I am pleased to see you well, Mistress.”
Grendall’s cold tone cut through their shared warmth. “Did they succeed in breaching the gates?”
“That’s what that was?” Vynasha shook her head as she released her friend. “I—Grendall, I felt it.”
Below their feet, in halls far below, the beasts roared their fury. “Can you hear them?” Vynasha shuddered and left the two men, drawn to the door. “They’re in pain.”
Odym sighed. “Be thankful you have bonded as you have, your graces. Had you not been united, they would have surely broken through.”
Grendall caught her by the wrist, pulling her to face him as he spoke to Odym. “How many are at the gates?”
“I…” Odym hesitated, then his grizzled features hardened. “The entire pack. We could not tell how many waited in the forest.”
Grendall bowed his head for a long moment, his grip tightening at Vynasha’s wrist. She felt his sorrow. A despair too like rage and odd acceptance passed between them.
“No.” She slipped her hands to grasp either side of his face and shook her head, repeating, “No. You will not face them alone. You can’t!”
“We need their help if this is to be war. You tried to warn me, did you not?”
“She is right, my prince,” Odym interrupted. “They have forsaken your control. Your link to them is far too weak.”
He means Grendall isn’t strong enough on his own.
Vynasha refused to let him go. “You would do this to me? You make all these promises, but now you plan to leave me?”
He broke from her embrace with a snarl. “And what would you have me do? Wait for them to try again? What would you do if they stormed the castle and slew our beasts? They will try to take you from me, Vynasha, and I cannot endure that again!”
“They wouldn’t!” She followed his retreat as he reached the glass door leading to the balcony. “I won’t let them take me away. I chose you, remember?”
Vynasha covered Grendall’s hand just before he touched the glass door. His hand trembled against hers, and then his shoulders slumped. “I cannot lose you again,” he confessed.
“And I’m not weak,” she insisted, “not anymore. We’re stronger together than apart. I know that now.”
“If you were to unlock the gate, it might be enough,” Odym said as he approached.
Grendall’s laugh was a foul, bitter thing, too like the dungeon master she had first known him to be. “Ah yes, unlock the gate without knowing what might be waiting on the other side. Brilliant plan, old man.”
“Unlock it?” Vynasha dug her claws into her prince’s arm before he could interrupt. She glanced between Odym and the mirror. “What must we do?”
“Do not listen to that old fool.” Grendall ran a hand through his unruly hair. “We still need the beasts.”
Odym met Vynasha’s gaze briefly before taking another step toward the prince. “Yet if you open the gate…if you both use your majik, it might be enough to break the spell.”
“And if we fail?” Vynasha’s voice fell to a whisper.
Odym hitched a sharp breath. “It may be our only hope, my lady.”
His growl was her only warning before Grendall advanced on the old wyne. “You belonged to her before. How do I know you are not doing Soraya’s bidding now, that you listen to her whispers in the night? You are the reason Vynasha accepted the curse, but you never told me why. What are you hoping to accomplish here, old man?”
Vynasha flinched as his volume continued to rise until she couldn’t stand it anymore and shouldered her way between them. “Stop it!”
Grendall ignored her, tightening his grasp around Odym’s neck. “I should have never trusted you. For all I know, you are the reason they all failed, that Luanor…” He paused, and his chest rose and fell rapidly with each ragged breath.
“I—vowed to protect you,” Odym gasped.
Vynasha dug her claws into Grendall’s wrist until she drew fresh blood. “Let him go,” she growled. “Let him go, gatekeeper, or I swear on my father’s grave, I will leave you.”
Grendall flinched at her words, but his fury was too strong, too pointed at the wyne who had been like a father to her and, unlike Wolfsbane, never betrayed her. The prince would not meet her eyes as he hissed, “You have not seen what he is capable of, Ashes. You did not see.”
Vynasha shook her head and sucked in a calming breath. “If he hadn’t helped us, I would be dead, or worse, and you know it. We all made choices that led us here, just like the women who turned chose to come here instead of ru
nning away or fighting it. You can’t continue blaming yourself for what you couldn’t control! Just like you can’t keep punishing Odym because he loved your mother.”
Odym’s eyes widened, a withering gasp passing his lips.
Grendall’s lip curled back at the sound. “Let us hope you prove more loyal to your new mistress, for she is the only reason you still breathe.”
The moment the prince released the wyne, Vynasha retracted her claws. She held back her relief and the need to check over her friend as he bent over, catching his breath.
He’s breathing.
As Grendall turned his back to them, the old wyne rose from the floor to share a grim look with her. Vynasha drew in a long breath then acted before he could sense her intent.
Relying on her beastly instincts, she leapt onto Grendall’s back, wrapped her arms about his neck, and squeezed.
She was far stronger than they knew. Weeks of constantly breaking things around the Wolvs had taught her that, until Baalor had helped her learn to manage her strength. She had returned to the castle starving and weak. Now the runes the Changeling had left on her arms and the shadow lingering in the back of her mind seemed to come alive as Vynasha reached for Grendall’s inner light and pulled.
A rush of power flooded her senses. Her teeth pricked her lip as it flushed through her blood and bones.
“Vynasha,” Odym warned.
She did not stop, lost as heat like the sun, brilliant starlight, filled her being.
“Mistress, you must release him, now, before you take too much!”
His urgency was enough to silence the roar of power coursing through her veins. Vynasha released the prince, stumbling to her feet as Grendall fell to the floor in a boneless heap. Her hands shook as she brought them to her head.
Their bond was silent.
“Wh-what have I done?” Her voice cracked. “Did I…” she couldn’t finish the thought, overwhelmed by the sudden void in her consciousness. Without his presence filling her, she was empty…nothing, even as his power threatened to tear her apart.
Odym turned Grendall’s body to lie more comfortably on the dirty floor then settled at his side. The old wyne lifted his head to reveal the tears in his eyes. He hesitated, lips parting as he ran his gaze over Vynasha and replied, “He will live. You have taken much of his power, but he will recover with time.”
Vynasha pressed the heels of her hands to her eyes until she saw stars. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t let myself think before I… I couldn’t let him face them alone. He would have found a way to stop me from coming with him. He was too afraid.” She shook her head and let her arms fall to her sides as she took the measure of the older wyne, then added, “He was also right. We don’t know what’s waiting on the other side of that gate. And we don’t need to, not yet.”
Odym gaped at her and did not bother hiding his awe. “What will you do?”
Grendall’s jaw was slack, and the pallor of his skin was gray, like Odym’s. The sight hurt her more than it should have. She pulled at the braid Grendall had woven earlier that morning and drew in another steadying breath as she met Odym’s gaze. “I’m going to free the beasts.”
The wyne released a tremulous breath as a smile creased his wizened face. “Ah, I see.”
She couldn’t tell for certain, but Vynasha hoped Odym would stand with her in this. She wondered what else he had seen in her face at first, what had put that fear in his eyes. Pushing the thought aside, she turned to the mirror but did not dare seek her reflection. “Will you stay here with him after I leave?”
There was more she could say, more she wanted to say, but the old wyne had been her first friend in this castle. He understood her more than she might have expected and proved this as he firmly replied, “I will keep him safe until your return, my queen.”
“Thank you,” she whispered. Majik laced her spine, curling through her limbs like a caress, as Vynasha turned her back to the gate and its keeper and sealed the door shut with their combined power.
“CLAIM THE BEASTS!” The halls’ whispers overlapped in a frenzied cacophony, “Claim the power of the gate!”
Vynasha kept her hands clenched as she strode through the halls, so tightly her claws drew fresh blood. The pain was the only thing keeping her tethered to the present, to a body unused to such power. Through blood, she kept hold of the source of light and ignored the ghosts of the past.
Odym had tried to tell her about the true Source once before, in the dungeon after she had been caught and before she became a beast. With Grendall’s power thrumming like a beating drum through her veins, Vynasha moved with a confidence she had never known.
Castle Bitterhelm had always felt confusing and endless to her human mind. Now she knew which paths to take instinctively. Majik had been used to build the foundations, allowing for rooms to slip between one realm and the next until they were needed again. Now she could clearly see that the castle was both endless and simple, however the gatekeeper wished it to be.
The roars of her beasts grew louder with each corridor and floor Vynasha descended. She could almost hear human cries beneath the monstrous howls. Light from everlasting candles flickered as she stepped over fallen rock and debris. Vynasha felt the echo of pain in her chest, where the majik in her blood had been connected to the land. The attack on the gates had damaged more than they had first believed, and the closer she drew to the heart of the castle, the more evidence she found.
The grand staircase was as foreboding as it had ever been. Her fears then had been nothing compared to what they were now. For all her power, inherent and stolen, Vynasha felt like a child creeping through the dark until she reached the entry hall. The red velvet runner was covered in a fine film of dust.
The first beast she discovered lay beneath a broken obsidian pillar, his beastly pupils vacant of life. Her hand flew to her mouth, and she choked back a cry. The roars and howls fell silent as tears blurred her vision. It was much more difficult to walk past the creature and not wonder who it had been before.
How many others had been killed or injured by the attack?
Her grief compounded as she came across two more bodies, ones covered with scales and feathers rather than fur. She reached a hand toward them and brushed her fingers along the hide of the nearest beast.
How could they?
Vynasha shivered as she reached the doors to the dining hall. A halo of light outlined the door, teasing the roaring hearth within. She closed her eyes, took a steadying breath, then pushed the door aside with a bloody hand.
A sea of furred, scaled, and feathered bodies greeted her. Some beasts had horns spiraling up from their skulls, like Vedmak. Others were like the great lizards she had read about in her brother Ceddrych’s books. Most wore the burly form of a great cave bear as Grendall had been cursed to wear. All of the beasts snarled as she crossed the threshold with clenched fists. The beasts watched as she traded shadows for firelight, hackles rising at her approach.
With a sigh, Vynasha released her hold on her light and whispered, “I’m so sorry.”
A wind rose through the great hall with her words, rippling fur and feathers, washing over them all. With every step Vynasha took, her majik burned brighter, until the light flashed like lightning. Her light brought the beasts’ forms into stark relief, like the dawn spilling over a new horizon.
The beasts cried out in surprise as she met their eyes. Fangs flashed brilliant white as many instinctively lunged at her. Vynasha knocked them aside easily. A brush of her hand sent their bodies crashing back into the others. The others crouched lower, giving her space out of respect and fear. So it was like this that Vynasha met the eyes of each beast, until all those nearest to her bowed low in submission.
“We are yours,” they spoke to her mind, voices overlapping. Some added vows in the old tongue of Bitterhelm, others in mirror-speech both beautiful and strange.
With every promise, the link between Vynasha and those who submitted to her solidified, as sure
ly as her bond with Grendall. Those who resisted twisted, snarling in pain as they refused to meet her gaze.
“Look at me,” she commanded, seizing the power behind her rasping voice. The rebels shuddered, and yet all finally turned to meet her gaze. The tethers she bound them with were wilder, like roping vines rather than finely twisted hemp.
Only one, the smallest she had met so far, who had remained closer to the fire, dared resist. Vynasha caught its head as it lunged for her with a roar. Dagger-like teeth clamped over her hand. With her free hand, Vynasha grasped the scruff at the back of the beast’s neck.
Vynasha growled, fighting past the pain as she snarled, “Submit.”
The creature’s eyes rolled up to meet hers. It shuddered, clamping its jaw harder over her hand, then quickly released her. Her blood spilled into its mouth, forcing the bond between them to forge faster. To her surprise, the invisible cord tethering them was even stronger than the others.
Vynasha’s wounded hand began to knit itself back together as soon as the beast released her. She turned a slow circle and waited until they all bowed their heads to her again.
“You all know we were attacked moments ago.” Her whisper carried with the weight of her majik. “I’m so sorry we weren’t able to protect you. The blame lies with me, for letting your prince send me away, for not accepting this power sooner.” She clenched her fists, and slowly, one by one, the beasts lifted their heads to look at her.
“I’m going to greet the ones who tried to tear our home apart. I won’t ask you to come with me, any more than I’d force your human forms upon you.” She paused and closed her eyes as the light burned in her chest too brightly. “But if you wish it, I would give you back your true forms.”
The silence was so deafening that she wondered if they had forgotten to breathe. Most were still too near their beastly natures. They had embraced their cursed bodies long ago. Some had even learned to love the power of these forms far more than their frail human bodies. And still others spoke to her mind while grunting and growling aloud at once, “We follow you, curse breaker.”
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