Page 127 of Of Realms and Chaos

Henry had hated the mere idea of it, which was why we had not prioritized Xalie. Bellamy, on the other hand, understood my reasoning. He saw Xalie for what it was: a means to an end. If we had them, then four of the six kingdoms would have chosen to side with Eoforhild. Any chance to convince King Lazarev and Queen Nyla—the rulers of Yrassa—would be contingent on having that majority on our side. Yrassa was the top producer of salt and wine in all of Alemthian, and they also had a decent size military. The issue stemmed from their friendship with Maliha.

The two neighboring kingdoms had long been close allies. King Lawrence and Queen Paula had sent no word in the last two weeks, their silence both unsettling and relieving. In my heart, I knew that I would have a hard time taking back my word when marrying Sterling could save the world from war. Bellamy, though, would sooner see the world burn than watch me marry someone else.

Perhaps if Sterling had made me happy, then Bellamy would let me go, but now that he knew it was him I wanted…well, I was relatively sure he would never stand aside and let anyone have me.

It was that possessive love that had him watching me in my sleep, terrified that I might be taken away from him. On more than one occasion, I awoke to his eyes on me, staring as if a single blink could be the difference between me being there and then gone.

And he was right.

As my eyes grew heavy, my head lulling against Bellamy’s shoulder, I thought of Padon. Was he looking for me? Or had he given up? How could I end the problem of him if he could not die? I thought of the dragons, of the glass castle, of the books. When my eyes shut fully, my hand still firmly within Bellamy’s, I felt the tug. A great pull that had my mind seemingly splitting in two.

“Asher!” Padon’s shout was muffled, distant even. I tried to look around, but there was nothing other than the blackness that seemed to writhe around me. “Asher, I can feel it! Something is coming—please, Asher! Wake up! Get the prince and the dalistori and get out of there!”

I shot up, heaving for air. Bellamy was at my side, finally sleeping. Wrath was nowhere to be seen, likely bothering some poor mortal for food. The sun had fully set since I fell asleep, casting our room in darkness. And though I often felt the need to do the opposite of what Padon said, there was something about his warning that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand straight. Or perhaps it was the way the darkness before me also appeared to move and sway.

Turning towards Bellamy, I pulled down the neck of his shirt, checking on the inky magic that painted his skin. It was relatively low, stopping at his shoulder blades. Nothing that would make me think it was his magic flowing into the room. My mind raced, trying to make sense of what Padon’s warning meant.

With a sigh, I looked forward, coming face-to-face with a shadow-like image of myself. I screamed as it smiled—as I smiled. My arm was suddenly too heavy to lift, my dagger simply too far to reach. It laughed, head falling back. Everything slowly became too difficult to move, like my body was a weight that I could no longer hold. Shaking from the fear, all I could do was watch as the creature crawled towards me on the bed, a slow and jerky movement.

Bellamy did not stir, his breaths even and his body so still that it was like he could not hear or feel this at all. She approached me with that horrifying mockery of my smile, the gesture too wide and toothy.

“Asher, such a lovely name. Did you know we search for you? That he seeks you out?” Her voice was like shards of ice, splitting through my ears and into my mind. A shocking, gravelly voice that almost reminded me of Wrath’s. I tried to speak, to fight, but nothing happened. I remained still, pathetic, useless.

I watched as she leaned forward, her arm nearly grazing mine when she reached over me to grab on to my dagger. A moment later, my blade kissed my arms, slowly gliding down the long scars that reminded me every day of what I was fighting for. The ones that were a visual representation of how broken I could become.

“Did death call to you? Or did you call to him?” she inquired, letting her icy finger run down the jagged flesh next. Why was she asking me if she so clearly knew I could not speak? I wanted to shout, to kick, to run, anything other than to sit here and feel her hands on me. “Sometimes, we must bleed to feel. Let me show you.”

Horror and pain mingled within me as she swiped the blade horizontally across my arm, the slice crossing over the ones I had given myself. Red quickly began to coat the deep orange sheets, the cotton soaking up my blood. I felt the tear roll down my eye, but soon even my shaking stopped. When she leaned down and licked my arm, I thought I might vomit at the feel of her rough tongue on me. A hum that almost resembled a hiss emanated from her as she looked up at me, the lips she had stolen from me dripping my blood.

“Ah, I taste it in you. Would you like to taste mine?” My eyes widened as I watched her take the blade still covered in my blood and slice open her palm, thick black liquid spilling from her. It hit the bed with a loud sizzle, as if it were burning through the sheets and mattress. “Such a beautiful poison. Even a drop could kill, you know. But I am not here to kill you, sweet princess.”

The dagger went flying towards the wall, the force of her throw so strong it only stopped when it reached the hilt. More tears spilled down my face as she drew closer. In the blacks of her eyes, I briefly caught sight of a small light, brighter than the sun, like the stars had found a way into her. With a blink, they were gone, and her face was mere inches from mine. Ever so softly, she placed a kiss to my lips, chuckling as my sobs could finally be heard.

“He waits for her promised doom, her Gift. And with my kiss, he shall find you. Until we meet again, tasty little princess.”

Eyes rolling to the back of my head, I fell back in a heap, screaming as I landed in an all-encompassing blackness. A sea of emptiness, the darkness alive. I kicked and shouted for help, but nothing was there—no one would save me. Alone—I was alone.

Alone, alone, alone, alone.

“Ash! Asher, what is wrong? Asher, wake up!” Bellamy’s voice brought me to the surface, my lungs burning as they filled with air. My eyes flew open, the light of early morning stinging as I tried to look around for the creature.

Bellamy was beside me, his face pinched and body tense, as if he did not know whether to be terrified or furious. It was Wrath, though, that caught my attention. He sat at the end of the bed, staring at me with those yellow eyes—so much understanding in them that all I could do was sit up on unsteady arms and ask.

“What was it?” Bellamy ripped his gaze from me, looking to Wrath. The dalistori appeared torn, as if the answer to my question was going to upset us somehow. Eventually, though, he answered in that haunting voice of his.

“A fetch. I can smell it on you, feel it on the bed. They are called dream walkers, and they serve…Death and Creation. Just as I do. We were all made by him, dark creatures that should not exist but do. Perhaps that is why I feel drawn to you. Maybe he has made it so.” Contemplation surrounded Wrath like a cloud, raining down thoughts of Padon and me and fate. Pushing away the now-clean orange sheets, I brought my knees to my chest, my skin slick from the thin layer of sweat.

Bellamy did not move. Instead, he watched as I traced the scar on my left arm, which now bore no sign of an actual cut. If Wrath had not confirmed that I was indeed visited by the fetch, then I would have thought myself mad. Especially when the god that supposedly gave the orders had also warned me vehemently.

“Why would he warn me if he sent her?” My curious thoughts were spoken aloud with little care for the males beside me, a streak of aubergine hair flashing through my memories.

“He came to you last night before the creature?” Bellamy was moving, his hands coming to stroke my face, my shoulders, my arms, my hair, like he needed to feel every part of me to be sure I was not fading into the ethers.

“Not exactly. I heard his voice, like a faraway call. He was shouting at me, telling me to run away because he could feel it coming. I think he meant the fetch, but I do not see why he would act that way if it was him who sent it.” My jaw ached with the strain of talking through the onslaught of disorder within my mind.

I tried and failed to work it out, to breathe through the disorientation of it all and find the answers that evaded me. Xavier had always done that, searched for clarity in himself first. For every piece of me that hated them, that rebelled against the two hundred years of teachings, another latched onto it. Like two halves of a different puzzle, my old self and my new self no longer fit, no matter how hard I tried to put them together.

“Wrath, how do we protect her dreams? What can we do to make sure none of them get their hands on her again?” Bellamy stood, pacing across the floor as he muttered to himself. Wrath watched, his tail swinging and body slowly shrinking.

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