Page 72 of Demonic Affliction

With my vision fading, I press forward, watching my actions through someone else’s eyes, someone else’s body. A hand swipes, tearing a creature's head clean from the body. Another blow, another kill. I walk three more steps.

They land on me all at once. Seven of them—maybe more—driving me face-first into the frozen ground. I thrash, I kick, and I fight, but it does nothing. There are too many. I have lost too much. I am too weak.

I cannot get to her.

All around me, the screams and sounds of chaos tell me we are losing the battle against the horde.

Willow screams again.

Then… something miraculous happens.

Cin sits up, blinking heavily. He looks around, and I can tell even from this distance that his eyes are clear.

He comes up off the ground in one motion. He does not look at me. He does not look at the horde. He does not reach for the remains of his bloody wing. Cin turns toward Willow’s scream and tears off into the forest.

Not one creature chases him. Not one of them even tries to touch him.

I blink, and Cin is gone.

24

Cin

Willow…

Her name runs through my mind like a mantra, a desperate chant. Memories of her smile, her intoxicating scent. I remind myself of these things, hoping it may allow me to hold on to my sanity for even half a moment longer.

Willow… Have to get to Willow…

I’m vaguely aware of my limbs moving, of the sharp whip of branches against my face, of a niggling pain on my right shoulder blade—but I can’t focus on anything for more than a moment. I think, maybe, my wing is gone. That would explain why I can’t seem to fly.

And I want to fly. Need to fly. Those things took Willow into the canopy, so the canopy is where I must go. If only my wings would work.

I blink and come to a stop. The whispering voices rise to a crescendo, and I clap my palms to my ears, gritting my teeth against the screaming pain in my temples.

What was I doing?

I straighten, staring out into the darkness like it will give me the answers. It’s on the tip of my tongue. I know I was doing something important. I just need to remember…

A scream. Female.

Willow…

Everything else falls away, and I know exactly where I am and what I need to do.

I run toward the sound.

My shoulder blade throbs with every stride, a dull ache that barely registers through my panic. I can feel myself growing colder with every step. Weaker. Slower.

Willow…

My vision goes white at the edges, but I push forward, forcing my muscles to respond and my legs to move faster. I can’t stop. I won’t stop.

Stumbling, heaving, sure that I can take not one more step, I finally come across it.

The nest.

It hangs in the middle of the small clearing, suspended between six of the tallest Welwig trunks. The nest itself resembles a hornet’s nest, its massive weight held aloft by millions of twining silver strands—each thick rope shimmering with a mysterious fluid. Dozens of smaller egg-sac-like pods cling to its underside, pulsing faintly. It’s like there’s something alive inside.