When a dazzling red burst out of the stone to bathe me and the town in its glow, I stood unmoving as it once again faded to a faint pink. The stone was the only source of light in this town, but it was enough to illuminate all the buildings.
As the stone shifted through its colors, I crept closer to the mystical gem that buried this town and destroyed everyonewithin it in an instant. However, the gargoyles had said a lightning bearer could handle the stone.
My hands shook when I reached for it. The gargoyles could have been telling me this in the hopes I’d touch the stone and die; they’d forever seal their fates as statues if that happened, but maybe over the many millennia of their imprisonment, revenge had become more important than freedom.
I couldn’t ever imagine feeling that way, but I’d never been tricked by a species I once trusted and plunged into obscurity for thousands of years. I imagined that could seriously alter one’s mindset.
Standing beside the stone, I gazed into its red depths as the light pulsed over my face in the same rhythm as a beating heart, and my hands hovered inches away from it. Despite it not killing us before, I kept waiting for it to lash out and destroy me.
Is it going to kill me if I touch it?
After what it did to this town, my entire being quaked at the idea of touching it, but I’d come this far, I couldn’t turn back now. Before I could let uncertainty continue to paralyze me, I thrust my hands forward.
Would I know if this thing decided to evaporate me like it had everyone else in this town?
Probably not, but as I lifted it from the pedestal, I didn’t turn into ash. My breath hissed out, and I took another one without dying.
The edges of the stone pressed into my palms as I cradled it before me like it would shatter if I jostled it too much. However, it didn’t shatter as I lifted it to examine it more closely.
For something so powerful, it wasn’t very big as it sat nestled in my palms. Its beat wasn’t as fast as before.
I lowered my face until I was eye level with the stone. When the vibrant red pulsed out of it, I turned my head away from the stone’s vibrant glow, but I still didn’t evaporate.
The potent strength of its power coursed out to flow through me. It dug into my veins and burrowed deeper until my heart matched its rhythm and my blood thrummed with its power.
This close to it, I understood why our ancestors wanted it for themselves. I had no idea what to do with this amount of power, but I yearned to draw more of it into me and keep it as my own.
If there were some way I could keep it for myself and harvest it, maybe I could defeat the duke without setting the gargoyles loose on Tempest. I pondered this as my body hummed with excitement and the hair on my arms rose.
I can keep it for myself. I can use it against the duke and the others. I don’t know how, but I can do it. It can be mine!
I licked my lips as I smiled at the stone and saw myself reflected in its red depths. That reflection, so twisted and wrong like my thoughts, almost caused me to throw the stone away.
Before I could do anything foolish, my fingers tightened around it, and I jerked it away from my face. Not only did I not want to look at it, but I couldn’t stand to see that twisted reflection anymore.
If I kept this thing, it would turn me into the duke; I didn’t know how, but I was certain it would. I’d become a power-hungry monster, and since I was stronger than him, I’d do far more damage to Tempest than he ever could.
The reality of that was intolerable. I’d never be like that man; I’d rather die first.
This wasn’t my stone; it didn’t belong to the amsirah. That’s why this town was here and its residents were dead.
If I tried to keep the stone for myself, I’d bring this same destruction above. But even as these sensible,rightmusings emerged, the power seeping through my veins beckoned me to claim it all for myself.
Thestonewanted me to keep it, and who was I to deny such a creation?
CHAPTER SEVENTY-TWO
Ryker
I claspedmy hands together and pushed down on the place where my finger once existed. Gritting my teeth, I focused on the pain I’d created by doing this instead of the slash of the whip against Tucker’s flesh.
Having endured as much as I had at the hands of the ophidians, Tucker was accustomed to torture and could withstand it far more than most others. He hadn’t screamed yet—something that would royally piss off the duke, especially if he was the one wielding the whip.
Sometimes the duke preferred to have others do his dirty work, but most times, he enjoyed doing it himself. He’dneverallowed another to beat me; it was always him.
Tucker didn’t scream, but I knew he was suffering. I’d endured those whip blows many times throughout my life and bore the dozens upon dozens of scars to prove it. I understood what it was like not to scream as every fall of the whip drove the agony deeper.
They hadn’t captured Ellery. They’d come close, or at least that’s what I gathered from listening to them, but she was still free and fighting… which incensed Veni.
