Page 47 of Blade of the Nightking

“You have no idea, do you?” he continued, his voice slick and slithery. “No idea what was done. What was stolen. What was corrupted.”

“I’m warning you, Veylan⁠—”

“I’m not interested in the ramblings of a madman,” I cut in. “Talk. Tell us why you were found in the Flamelands.”

Veylan tilted his head, considering me. “Why do you think?” he slurred. “I was looking for you.”

My blood turned to ice. I kept my face carefully calm.

“To earn favor with your master?” Aedric spat.

Veylan’s lips pressed together as though in mild contemplation. “In part. Yes.”

“That seals your fate,” Aedric snarled. “You won’t leave Dheren alive.”

Veylan's brows lifted, interest stirring faintly through the ruin of his face.

“Ah,” he murmured. “So this is Dheren. Subterranean.” His gaze drifted, taking in the stone around him. “Interesting. Fitting, really—that your Court sits as close as it can to the bowels of Hell.”

Aedric’s mouth curved into something brittle and humorless. “You’ll find out just how close when I send you there.”

Veylan snorted, shaking his head. “Idle threats, lordling. You’d have to kill me a thousand times to end me. I have quite a number of souls bound to mine, in case you hadn’t noticed.” He lifted one hand, palm up. From each fingertip, a shadow slipped free, curling into the air like serpents made of smoke.

I stepped back. Veylan noticed.

“What did you think these were, girl?” he gestured to the formless silhouettes around him. “How many shadows must one gather before you begin to suspect something… unnatural?”

I wet my lips nervously. “A Soul-Eater. What is that?”

He huffed, almost amused. “Exactly what it sounds like.”

“The Shaedr-Kyn feed on the souls of the living,” Aedric explained, pushing off the wards with a look of open disgust. “An abomination.”

“Please, Aedric.” Veylan’s gaze slid to him. “From one abomination to another—do not presume to judge my nature. Besides, I haven’t consumed a soul in hundreds of years.”

A strangled sound escaped me before I could stop it. I couldn’t seem to look away, my gaze caught on the way the shadows drifted and hovered around him, restless but contained. As though they were listening.

Veylan went very still. Even the shadows stilled with him, suspended midair.

“Magic always demands a price,” he fixed me unblinkingly. “And when the bargain was struck… my ability was the cost.”

A chill slid down my spine. “Bargain?”

“With the Dark Prince.” His teeth flashed in the darkness. “An eternal thirst. A hunger that will never be sated.” His mouth curved, but there was no humor in it. “Endless torment.”

His eyes darkened.

“He will deliver Elantis from those who have stolen it. He swore it.”

“Zealot,” Aedric muttered.

Veylan ignored him. “I accepted the bargain,” he continued, his attention fixed on me. “Therefore I’m the one who bears the mark. Or, in my case—marks. I have many souls bound to this pledge.” He gestured to the tattoos winding across his skin. “All magic leaves a trace.”

His eyes dropped—to my collarbone. Something cold slid down my spine.

“Careful, girl,” he murmured, another grin oozing across his face. “Or soon you'll look like me.”

My gaze followed his.