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Suddenly, curiosity begins to warm in my chest. It feels like a lone lantern shining in the midst of an icy storm, beckoning me to follow it out of the cold. Without a second thought, I let my shadows swarm around me to follow this feeling. To this heat blooming within the frozen organ residing in my hollow chest.
It only takes a few seconds before my feet hit the earth again, and the rain is still pelting down in a relentless beat. Yet, now there’s the solemn castle of Asiza looming just beyond the trees. A shot of heat pumps through my body, and the pull grows stronger. It’s as if there’s a compass embedded in my chest, a fleeting wisp of an invisible force that binds me to something. My foot moves on its own accord, taking a single step before I force my body to stop.
No, I have a task that takes precedence over everything else. I take a deep breath, expanding my chest to its fullest, and then exhale slowly. Deliberately drawing it out to sharpen my focus and push away any distractions, including this inexplicable pull.
The moment I wrap myself in shadows, I see a dark blur tumbling from the sky. I don’t stop to wonder what it could be as I vanish in the blink of an eye, transporting myself closer to my target. The moment my feet touch ground again, I start sprinting through the trees, my boots imprinting the earth with every hurried step. Slicing through the rain that sneaks between the leaves as I pump my arms faster.
I bring the shadows forth to blanket my body into the night, like a hunter surprising its prey. The whispers grow louder the closer I get, helping guide me to my target. Whiro gave me brief details to find him—a male who should not have survived death when it was coming for him.
A cabin with billows of smoke pluming out from the chimney looms between the trees minutes later. An axe is stabbed into a broken stump, with slices of wooden logs piled behind it. The front door creaks open, flooding a stream of bright light with it.
A female steps out, heading towards the discarded wood, and she reaches for the logs. She’s not the target, but I don’t take another breath of hesitation. I shadow myself right behind her and wrap my arm around her neck. Her body tenses as her hands try to grab hold of me, but my shadows snake around silently to restrain her. I start squeezing and cover her mouth before a yelp leaves her. My grip becomes tighter, until I feel the flutter of her pulse slow.
“Need help carrying the rest in, darling?” a deep voice calls out from inside the cabin.
Her pulse is so faint now that it barely flickers against her neck. The moment her eyes roll back, I let her body slump forward with a thump into the muddy soil. She’s not dead. I can still hear the blood pumping through her veins.
I should kill her, but there’s something prodding deep inside me that’s begging to let her keep breathing. It’s the faintest voice being drowned by the whispers in my head, yet I can feel the desperation from it. So, I leave her in the pouring rain because my only focus now is the one whose feet are softly padding against the wooden floor inside.
I forgo veiling my body in a shade of night and walk straight to the door. My boots are silent, my breaths are steady, and my eyes are focused. I place my palm on the paneled wood and give a push that elicits a creak to ring in the quiet home.
Trickles of water trail down my body and puddle around my feet. My eyes glance up to take in the room before me. The blankets strewn over a cushioned sofa, the knickknacks lining a shelf on the wall, and a game board set on the table in front of the couch. Chess. The game that resembles far too much of life and the one King Oren taught me before—I dig back to the horrors of another life—before he turned into a monster of his own making.
I take in the pieces placed on the squares and swipe my tongue over my teeth. Looks like one of them was three moves away from winning. Unfortunately for them, the game will be left unfinished.
I step over a pair of boots discarded by the door and silently make my way to where the voice came from. The warm glow from the flames dancing in the hearth is inviting, and the heat feels almost soothing against my constantly chilled skin.
“Darling?” he calls out again, but this time, it’s higher pitched and louder than the first. Sorry, but your darling is a little tired at the moment.
I turn the corner and find the Fae crouched down, digging in a cabinet. Busying himself with what looks like preparing some late-night drinks. I stand in the doorway, silently, as I study him. He’s acting as if nothing is amiss, but the tension in his shoulders and the stiffness in his movement says otherwise. My head cocks to the side when he stands, his back still facing me as glasses clink on the counter.
One of his arms moves to pour something golden in the empty glasses and the other… Half of it is gone, the only piece of limb remaining is from his elbow and up.
I don’t bother to worry about any creaks in the floorboards as I walk towards him. The moment the heel of my boot connects with the wood, his spine stiffens. My shadows snake up my arms and behind me, causing the softly lit room to grow darker.
I know he can sense me; he can tell that I’m not his darling. Not with the way his bare feet shift on the floor, readying for a fight, or how his fingers grip the bottle harder, and his breaths have become nonexistent. He knows there’s a monster in his house.
In a flash, he slams the glass onto the counter with a deafening crash, and dozens of sharp fragments lay broken in his palm. Suddenly, he whirls around, hurling the crystal shards at me with high speeds as they ride on a gust of wind. He’s a wind keeper.
I quickly assemble a wall of shadows in front of me, but a few tiny blades slip through before the barrier is fully formed. They hit their mark, slicing into my pale skin, and leaving behind cuts that start bubbling at the seam. The obsidian blood of death starts to flow.
The sting is hardly noticeable, like a ghostly touch, but the sight brings a smirk to my face. He’s clever. As we now face each other from across the room, I retract my shadows.
“Is that any way to welcome a guest?” The whispers inside me grow louder, urging me to end him right then and there. That single voice from earlier is gone, lost under the surface. But that’s not what Whiro commanded; he wants him alive.
“You are no guest of mine.” He scans behind me for a fleeting moment before locking his gaze on my dark pools. “What did you do to Natalia?”
I shrug, closing in on him as I drag my finger over the countertop, leaving a smear of black blood in my wake. “She will be fine, unless you refuse to come with me.”
The muscles in his jaw clench and unclench repeatedly, his hand fisting so tightly his knuckles turn white. But he tilts his head near the window, as if straining to hear something. “You’re lucky her pulse is still steady.”
Ah. He was checking to see the truth of my words, to see if Natalia is fine.
“The moment I felt a surge of panic flow through our bond, I started to go to her. Until I heard your boots step through the door.” His lips peel back. “That’s when I realized she’s not the one you’re here to see. So, what business brings you here?” he asks through gritted teeth.
I sigh. “You.”
I don’t blink or utter another word. I let the silence envelop us, intensifying the tension growing to make him give into me. And it seems sparing the girl’s life might be a compelling incentive for him to come willingly, even though I’m itching for a fight. But I will admit, he’s not as oblivious to his surroundings as I assumed. And how sickening his love is for his mate, that he would lure a monster to him in order to protect her.
