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Chapter 18
Iwasn’t quite sure when I fell asleep, only that I had because there was no chance that the surrounding apartment was still in existence. Logically, I knew my old studio apartment had burned because it’d been attached to Dark Iron, my workshop, whenithad burned down. And yet here I stood in the middle of those four small walls, with minimal furniture and dingy paint jobs.
“Aisling.”
I turned on the heel, only to watch Mrak come through the door that led out into Dark Iron. The last time he’d passed through that doorway, he’d barely been corporeal. Now, seeing his monstrous form come through churned my mind.
“This isn’t right,” I said as I stepped back from Mrak. “This isn’t really happening.”
Mrak smiled softly. “Not exactly, no. I was able to reach through our shared connection to be with you in your dreams.”
My brow furrowed. “You can do that?” Or was this Sylas trying to get information from me?
Mrak closed the distance between us within heartbeats, which didn’t make sense. Except that in dreams, nothinghadto make sense. Mrak held my face between his hands and in his crimson glowing eyes I saw truth. “You’re mine, Shadow Fire. And I am yours.”
“Mrak.” A sob escaped my lips as I wrapped my arms around him—monstrous arms. My shadow demon form was here even in my dreams. I was still short enough compared to Mrak though to tuck my head under his chin and hold him, listening to his heartbeat.
The peace only lasted moments before Mrak pulled back. “We don’t have long.”
I shook my head. “I’ve figured out what Sylas is up to. It’s not just conquering Kithonia and Earth that he wants. He’s trying to raise a dead god—Dakta?”
Mrak’s eyes widened. “Dakta is a myth.”
“Not to Sylas.” I caressed Mrak’s cheek and drank in the sight of him while he was before me. “He’s got a pretty good plan to raise him too, involving using me as a vessel long enough to get Dakta back to Kithonia. Just like you needed me. Well, sort of.”
Mrak was silent for the first time since I’ve known him and it hit me much harder than I ever thought possible. His jaw slid open, his brow furrowed, and yet watching Mrak processing exactly how mad his brother is was increasingly unsettling.
“Say something,” I said, smiling as I held back tears. “Anything. Please.”
Mrak was silent another few moments before he spoke. “Dakta was supposedly locked away, exiled to Earth, because of the danger they posed to every living creature. Not because of how powerful they were, but because of the domain they wielded.”
“Pain and suffering,” I suggested. “Death.”
Mrak nodded and paced away from me. “Why would Sylas want this?”
“He’s hoping for a reward, I suspect,” I said. “But really, does anyone this crazy need a real reason for what they do?”
Mrak turned back to me. “Sylas and I… we didn’t get along when we were young. There was always a competition between us.”
“That explains why he wanted your throne.” I grabbed his clawed hand in mine. “At least initially.”
“Now he’s going to these great lengths to hold it.” Mrak growled deep in his throat. “We can’t allow this. Any of this. We have to move as soon as possible.”
And now for the more immediate bad news. I held my breath for a moment before delivering it.
“He’s planning to kill you tomorrow. He’s got me forging a nightsteel blade specifically for you. I don’t know if he’ll make me ward it tomorrow like the blade Leif had wanted commissioned. I’m sort of hoping Sylas doesn’t know about it.”
Mrak chuckled hollowly. “Of course he’d have my queen kill me. He is a monster.”
“Yes,” I agreed. “But I intend to kill him first. I’m going to finish the blade, Mrak. But I need to know a ward for Sylas. I’m going to make the blade Leif wanted commissioned, so I can destroy Sylas, not just end him.”
If Mrak’s physical form could be trapped away while his ethereal form stayed on Earth, and if a dead gone could come back just the same, I wanted to take exactly zero chances with Sylas.
Mrak’s jaw tightened. “I do not know what might stop Sylas for good. Only that if given the chance, I would.”
“Hey, if I fail, there will be a sword you can use to try.” I tried to smile to lighten the mood, but my joke fell flat.
“Aisling…”
