I groan, feeling the weald fall from my weakening grip. Hear it skitter across the ground.
My head rolls to the side, gaze caught on that small, hungry flame until I slip away.
The feel of an incorporeal blade slitting down my spine rips me awake so fast my eyes bulge open, seeing I’m still on the seater where I vaguely recall tipping sideways before everything went black.
Atop the stout table ahead, the Skripi board is in disarray, strewn with empty bottles.
I snap my gaze to Pyrok sprawled on the ground where he drunkenly collapsed, snoring. Then to his brother, passed out with his head on the table beside the Book of Voyd, still gripping his quill.
Kaan—
Seemingly absent, given his boots are no longer at the door.
With nobody to bear witness to my agony, I fall into the arc of my spasming muscles, hissing breath, riding the pain slicing down each vertebra. A claw reaching up from the past, digging into the dips and dents like it’s trying to bleed my spinal fluid—every muscle squeezed so tight I’m going to snap.
The pain finally tapers.
My body loosens, eyes shut as I heave breath past gritted teeth, my heart thumping so hard and fast it sounds like a drum.
The fucking blood bind …
“Dammit,” I whisper, then roll onto my back and wipe the sweat from my brow, chewing on this unfortunate development like a piece of rotten meat stuck between my teeth.
That’ll teach me for daring to forget about Sereme’s septic shackle.
How did she work out I’m still alive?
I sigh, deciding it doesn’t matterhow. She knows. Is obviously pissed I haven’t checked in to kiss her feet. Done my part to indulge her toxic lust for control.
I didn’t miss this shit.
Opening my eyes on the too-bright glare spewing through the windows, I knead the alcohol-induced throb from my temples, realizing the wreath is still on my head. The remnants of a moment in time that felt light despite the heavy darkness bearing down on us all.
I set the wreath aside, releasing another long sigh.
Fuck you, Sereme.
Pushing down the light blanket I don’t recall laying across myself, I sit up way too fast, head spinning as I catch the lark bumping against my shoulder. I notice the floral urn is opened, the larks Pyrok stuffed in there now in a flattened pile on the counter.
Guess Kaan couldn’t slumber and decided to go through his mail instead. Probably got called away.
Trying to ignore the persistent throb of my bloated brain, I unfold the new lark’s pleats.
Moonbeam.
By the time you read this, I’ve likely flown to a nearby village.
Their bunker collapsed and they need help getting it back into shape.
I should return by the rise.
PS—I took Korie across to her mah. Siharna birthed a beautiful boy. Both mah and son are healthy and doing well.
Eternally yours.
A tightness eases from my chest as I reread the note, focusing on one line:
Both mah and son are healthy and doing well.
