Page 44 of Sienna Rossi: Beyond Shattered Trust

Drawn.

My body moves before I consciously decide to walk. I weave between the cocoons, feeling their heat, their barely contained power, the air thickening with each step. The whispers follow, growing louder and louder with every passing second.

I move until I have passed countless cocoons, my heart in my mouth, and finally, my body allows me to stop. In front of me, sitting in a circular basin in the ground, is what looks like an egg made of membrane, every part of it pulsing.

It’s far larger than the cocoons, and the power I felt is coming from it. Veins stretch from it in every direction, thick cords of dark energy that branch outward and connect to the surrounding cocoons. Each vein pulses with light that flickers in rhythm with the beating I now feel beneath my feet.

I don’t know how, but I know that this thing is what controls the rest.

The very energy here feels dark; it presses into my chest, into my skull, and into the very marrow of my bones. My chaos magic stirs violently, recognising something ancient and terrible. Alarm bells are going off in my head, but I’m unable to move away.

The egg’s surface ripples as I approach, and I see my own reflection warped upon it.

The whispers quieten.

One voice remains.

The drakaths will be free.

The words echo through me, not spoken but from within me.

A sound to my right makes me turn sharply. One of the broken cocoons splits further, and something steps out.

It unfolds to its full height, and I see it clearly now. Its skin is grey and stretched tight over sinewed muscle; faint glowing lines trace along its torso like cracks in cooling stone. Two long, curved horns frame a gaunt face, ears pointed and sharp. Its mouth opens impossibly wide, revealing those jagged teeth that are even more terrifying now that I can see them properly.

Its glowing eyes turn to me, and I feel terror wash through me.

Behind it, others emerge. Tall, clawed figures with elongated limbs and talons that scrape across the ground. Tendrils of shadow trail from their backs, writhing as though alive. Their presence is suffocating, immense, yet they do not lunge or attack.

It’s as if they’re waiting for something.

The egg pulses, and I hear that soundless voice.

It calls to me again.

To become one with it, to touch it, to claim it.

Power surges from the egg in a wave that makes my knees buckle. If I step forward, if I lay my hand against that pulsing shell, the veins will answer me. I somehow know it. The cocoons will respond. The drakaths will come forth. All they need is the energy I can give them. My power, my chaos.

I could complete it.

Immense power blooms in my mind, intoxicating and terrible. I see legions moving at a single thought. I see the world bowing before the entity that has finally found form.

The air vibrates with anticipation.

I lift my hand.

The egg’s surface ripples towards me, almost eager.

Stop…

But I can’t.

The demons within the cocoons stir faster now, their pulses quickening, their whispers rising in a swelling chorus.

Belong.

My fingers hover inches from the shell, and something in me falters.