Page 75 of Storm of Blood and Shadow

Ashvelon follows my gaze, concern furrowing his brow ridges. “Any member of the clan would give up their life to help him.”

“Help Kyreagan first,” I say. “And then hurry back. I think Varex needs his brother.”

“At least he has you.” Ashvelon’s voice is so warm and kind that it brings tears to my eyes.

“I’m helpless,” I whisper desperately. “I can’t fix him.”

“Have you spoken with him about what Thelise mentioned? The fact that wicked entities prey upon guilt and unresolved darkness of the soul?”

“I’ve tried to, but there’s something he won’t tell me. I think it’s related to his mother’s death.”

“Keep trying,” urges the gray dragon. “It may be the key to him conquering this evil.”

Ashvelon flies away, and I trudge back to the shallow stone basin Varex carved a few days ago, where two eels are swimming around, waiting to be made into stew. I rearrange the rocks around the campfire, then head into the woods to find more sticks.

The day drags slowly as I pursue the dull routine of survival. I’m not used to spending all my time in the open air or in a makeshift shelter, nor am I accustomed to foraging for hours just to find enough food to stay alive. I’m used to waiting in the elegant rooms of the Queen’s palace, practicing and gossiping with the other dancers. Food was provided for us, and if it was something decently portable, I would always eat less than my share so I could take a little home for the children.

The children. You were the only one in their lives who loved them enough to work for them, to sacrifice on their behalf, to provide. And you left them. They’re probably dead now.

An image flashes into my mind—the bodies of Miri and Lark lying gray and motionless on the floor of our dingy apartment, their eyes eaten away by the rats and their bodies pockmarked with the holes of devouring insects. The vision is so sudden, so intense, and sorealthat I scream and bow over, clutching my head.

Varex is by my side in a second. “Darling, what is it?”

Instantly the voice in my head rises to a thundering bellow, pierced with a second voice, a keening scream, and both voices are saying the same words.

You abandoned them!They’re dead because of you, because you decided to stroke monster dick and bathe yourself in dragon cum, because you wanted a hot shaft in your creamy cunt more than you wanted those innocent little ones to survive. You’re a foul, lewd, ignorant, selfish wretch!

“Get away!” I shriek, scrambling back from Varex. “Leave me alone!”

You’re an oozing gash, a fuck-sloppy dragon-whore, seethe the voices.

I can’t hear anything else but their constant accusations, not until I’ve put distance between Varex and me. Only then does the searing panic abate, and the voices sink to a low murmur again.

There’s no denying it now. What’s happening to me is similar to what Varex experienced during our confinement in the cave—the voices of the Mordvorren trying to drive him mad.

I baited it yesterday, when I looked into his eyes and told the entity that it could not have my dragon. Now a sliver of it has invaded me, ready to torture my brain with terrifying visions and fears anytime I get close to Varex. It’s attempting to drivememad, to keep me away from him so I can’t interfere with its plans to overtake him.

To test my theory, I approach Varex again, cautiously. I’ve only taken a few steps when the noise and the pain become violently worse. I’m forced to retreat, to leave him alone and isolate myself.

All day, throughout that night and the next, I miss the children so badly it’s like a physical wound in my chest, like a hunger I can’t assuage, a thirst I can’t quench. I’m plagued with horrifically detailed nightmares about all the things that could have happened to them during the invasion by Vohrain.

I can’t bear to tell Varex that when he kissed me, I was infested with the Mordvorren. Once he knows that, he will neverlet me touch him again. Besides, he can’t fix it, and it will only make his own struggle more unbearable.

If the enchantress’s theory is correct, and the entity gains leverage based on unresolved fear and trauma, the only thing that can set me free is a swift resolution to the anxiety that has plagued me ever since I was stolen from the capital.

I need to know what happened to my family.

Once I’ve settled the question of their fate, maybe I can release the guilt I feel, and with it, the influence of the storm. Then I can return to Varex and offer him my full support again.

In the pre-dawn hours of the next night, Ashvelon arrives to let us know that Kyreagan and Serylla have returned safely to Ouroskelle. Rahzien has been overthrown, and Elekstan’s governance will be in the hands of its people, who will be electing new leaders in the wake of Serylla’s willing abdication as princess.

Varex rouses from his misery long enough to take in the news. He seems encouraged, so much so that the fiery color around his scales fades, leaving his body its usual glossy black.

“Have Serylla and Kyreagan’s eggs hatched?” he asks.

“They hadn’t when I left,” replies Ashvelon. “But they should soon. A few hatchlings have broken out of their shells already. They have brought great joy to the clan after so much distress. Another piece of good news—Thelise has examined several animals from the Middenwold Isles and has declared them free of poison. We may hunt there again, without fear.”

“There’s somewhere I need to go, now that Vohrain has been defeated,” I tell Ashvelon. “I need to get to the capital of Elekstan and find out if my family survived the invasion. Could someone take me there?”

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