I stretched out my arm to stop him. “Slowly. We don’t know if they are really gone.”
His face twitched in displeasure, but he gave me a curt nod, obeying my order. A dark circular stain on the barn floor caught my attention. I went to my knees next to it, touching my fingers to the liquid. My skin was painted a vivid crimson as I lifted my hand to the light.
My eyes instinctively went to the ceiling above me, just in time to see the next drop fall, narrowly missing me and joining the rest on the floor.
Fuck. We had found the missing farm workers.
“May the Sky Lord protect us!” Tristan cried out, pacing helplessly up and down, his gaze fixed on the ceiling.
Aramaz won’t help you here, I could have said, my eyes roaming over the pale faces contorted in pain and terror, stiff limbs bent awkwardly into a grotesque shape meant to mock us. They had bound the five Humans to the ceiling, their bodies forming a distorted star. The last one, Tristan’s brother, by the looks of it, hung in the center, the same black vines Rada had shown me piercing his arms and ankles, keeping him suspended as his blood dripped down.
Deira’s attempts at humor had clearly not improved.
“Why use the ceiling?” Rada asked me in a low voice as the others joined us with loud exclamations and curses.
I kept my answer just as quiet, not wanting anyone else to hear. “It’s closer to the sky.”
The stark horror flitting across her face told me she immediately grasped the implications. I had been right. Deira did not possess the power to conjure a Chaos storm. But with her dagger and—the macabre sight above us drew my gaze again—the right kind of sacrifice, she had managed to tear open the Veil, allowing the Other’s magic to seep through and rage across the land.
“He is still alive!”
The healer’s alarmed outcry snapped me out of my musings. Indeed, Khendrik’s chest barely rose, the faintest whisper of breath escaping his lips. In an instant, Tristan sprang into action, racing outside to the shed with the tall Northerner to grab a ladder.
As he made to climb it, I grabbed his arm. “There’s still Chaos magic in the air. Cutting him loose carelessly could do more harm than good.”
Tristan’s eyes darkened, flaring with determination. “He’s my brother,” he growled, venom in his voice. “I won’t leave him hanging there a moment longer than necessary.”
Who would have thought. Farm Boy had more steel in him than I’d given him credit for.
I nodded. “Stay right behind me. You’ll need to catch him when I cut the bonds.”
Wasting no time, I sheathed my sword and swiftly ascended the ladder, two of the soldiers steadying it. Tristan followed right behind me. The closer we got, the more intense the presence of Chaos became—an uncomfortable tingle that turned into a sharp sting. Even Tristan seemed to feel it, a gasp escaping him as we reached thetop of the ladder. I cautiously reached out and brushed my fingers against the blackened vines.
Instantly, memories coursed through me as Chaos sizzled over my skin.
Black vines lancing through the air, burrowing into soft mortal flesh with sickening wet sounds, screams echoing off cold stone walls. My own voice, icy and unfeeling, echoing in my mind. “Well done, Deira. Your work here is exceptional.”
Hazel eyes glowing with feverish devotion beneath a dark hood as I tilted her chin up in approval.
A wave of nausea overwhelmed me, and I clutched the ladder to center myself.
“Can we free him?” Tristan asked anxiously from below, having noticed my hesitation.
“It’s only a remnant of the spell,” I replied, forcing the shadows of the past away. I drew my dagger. “It should be safe to cut him free.”
Easier said than done. The moment I sawed through the first vine, blood bloomed on Khendrik’s tunic like dark red flowers, a low groan escaping his cracked lips. I had to work faster—the healer needed to tend to him immediately.
First, I freed his legs. Tristan leaned over and cradled his brother’s lower body. We couldn’t have gotten Khendrik down safely if it weren’t for Kyree and the two soldiers waiting below. They caught his limp body and laid him gently on the ground.
When the healer bent over him to assess the severity of his wounds, Khendrik awoke without warning. He moved with astonishing speed, his hands shooting up, clutching the front of Kyree’s tunic like claws.
“She’s here!” he cried out, dragging the Aerieth closer, his face a ghostly mask of fear. “She’s here. She’s in my mind.” He clawed at his own cheeks, his nails leaving bloody trails on his skin.
“Quick! Help me with him!” Kyree barked at the soldiers, who immediately seized Khendrik’s arms to prevent him from inflicting further harm on himself.
“Khendrik!” Tristan nearly toppled off the ladder in his frantic rush to reach his brother. The distressed Human didn’t even react to his presence. His dark eyes were unseeing as he thrashed violently against the grip holding him down.
“Cold, cold, so cold,” he whimpered again and again, shivering despite the warm summer day.
