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An arrow flies through the air, piercing into the creature, hitting something solid, but I’m not sure what. Bone, maybe? It’s hard to tell what is beneath its dark cloak. Another lands, then another.
The creature stands, its head twisting back around as it looks toward my room. I don’t have the energy, the will, the air to lift up. All I can do is lay on this table and hope Loric kills it.
“I’m so sorry…”
I can’t muster the words to tell Hyde it’s not her fault. I opened that box, I went into that room and let it out somehow, that creature, that spirit, or whatever it is. This wasn’t her fault. It was mine.
There’s a clank of metal, the shuffling of feet, guttural grunts, but I can’t tell who is winning. The only thing I focus on is the quiet dripping.Drip. Drip. Drip.
I could tell myself it’s the cave, the walls aren’t exactly dry. It could be condensation beading and trickling to the floor, but I know it’s not. It’s blood. I can feel it, the heat of it, the wetness around my neck.
Another set of feet, followed by another joins. The walls start to close in around me, the ceiling lowering in my vision, as if it’ll crush me to the stone floor. My eyes flutter, but it becomes harder and harder to keep them open until I give in and let them stay shut.
Hands wrap around my arms, cradle my head. I’m lifted from the table, but I can’t tell where I’m going. Then the darkness claims me.
Chapter 17
Loric
Iperch on the edge of the bed, my gaze lingering on Calamity, who’s sprawled out in the center, her breathing steady and deep in sleep. She looks so peaceful, the wound on her neck almost closed. It took us the better part of two hours to heal it. Every time we’d get it shut, the wound would reopen, pouring blood as if it were brand new.
How did a fucking grimleer get in here? How did she not wake me up and why did she leave her room in the first place?Unfortunately, those answers will have to wait for her to open her eyes.
Jesper leans casually against the door frame, his gaze fixed on the claw mark marring my chest. “That needs to be stitched, or at the very least, you should let one of us attempt to heal it.”
I dismiss his concern with a wave of my hand, crumpling my ruined shirt in my fist. “It's a scratch. It’s not even bleeding anymore.”
He raises an eyebrow. “Yeah, but you’ve been exhausting your energy to heal her. It’s slowing your own healing down in the process.”
“I won’t die from a claw mark. She had her jugular torn open. She needs the help more than I do.”
Jesper huffs, handing me a bloodstained book. "Faelor found this on the floor."
“A bestiary? Where did she get this?” I flip through the pages, skimming through the creatures they depict.
"In a hidden room, behind the tapestry. We believe the grimleer was guarding it. I’d invite you to come look, but something tells me you won’t.”
“Those are fighting words,”my dragon sneers.
I stand, placing the book gently beside Calamity. It’s not a stretch to believe she snagged it to learn about herself. I just hope in the process she doesn’t dig too deep on the rest of us. Though, there’s nothing she’s seen that would clue her in. Claws are a common trait, so are teeth. She’s more likely to assume we're low tier wolves instead of dragons.
"Faelor is in the room now. I'll stay with her until she wakes," Jesper offers.
I nod, stepping into the cavern, my heart heavy with the sight of the blood staining the stone. The little bit I lost getting scratched pales in comparison to the puddle of Calamity's on the floor. A wave of guilt washes over me, churning my gut.How did I let this happen?
Pulling back the tapestry, I step into the dim room, taking in the shelves, the alchemy set up. Gael was dabbling in things well above him… and I’m not sure it’s worth my time to know what.
Faelor holds up an open wooden box, decorated in metallic swirls and dragon’s blood crystals. They’re rare down here, but not unheard of. They’re powerful, drawing from a network like a hive would. The more crystals, the more power they can leach from the things around them. They were likely responsible for imprisoning the grimleer, their magic fueling the spell thattrapped it inside. When Calamity opened it, the connection severed, setting it free.
“It’s definitely related to the bestiary she had.” Fealor sets the box on the table. “Look at this stuff. How does a lowlife hellhound get these things?”
“Because he wasn’t as simple-minded as we thought. Though I’m going to guess the glasswork was for sensitizing his own alcohol for the bar, and I’m willing to guarantee, based on those vials, he was adding a little something to his batches.”
Faelor tilts his head, his eyes following the glass track that runs around the room. “Like magic? Spells?”
“Probably.” I pick up a vial, shaking the contents until the glass clinks. “A lot of these are blood magic ingredients. Though, when you think about it, it makes sense. It’s a bar in the middle of nowhere, yet, it was packed full of nearly the same people as when we passed through the first time.”
“That’s one way to get regular customers, spell them to come back.” Faelor sits in a dusty chair, looking at the map on the ceiling.
