Page 80 of Storm of Blood and Shadow

I’m fortunate that he’s been so busy. He’s been creating new rooms in his cave, customizing it for Serylla and his hatchlings, fetching more human items for his mate’s comfort, flying back and forth to improve diplomatic relations between Ouroskelle and the new democracy in Elekstan. Not to mention his visits to our new hunting grounds and his continued supervision of the clan and their mates, as well as his occasional flights to thedistant isle we call the Ashmount, to check on our permanent prisoner, Rahzien, the former king of Vohrain.

When I found out that Kyreagan hadn’t killed Rahzien, I was angry at first. The last thing we need is another enemy within our borders, an unknown risk that, despite our best efforts to contain it, might break free and cause destruction.

Another monster like me.

But I understand why Kyreagan had to keep Rahzien alive. The former king’s life is inextricably and magically bound to Serylla’s.

The gloom that settled over me back on East Fang has continued to grow. I’ve learned that when the darkness and the sense of doom grow too great, I must release some of the pressure by venting void magic and lightning into the air or the sea. Yet each time I do so, I feel the Mordvorren growing louder, stronger, overtaking me bit by bit.

When I release a burst of magic, I experience temporary relief, and I use that time to appear among the clan, helping with the reconstruction efforts, the renovation of caves, and the building of new homes. Some of the clan are working on purging the fenwolves from Ouroskelle, while others are learning to fight, to garden, and to use human tools. I participate when I can, but I’m jealous of those who have the mental and emotional capacity to invest more in the process of learning how to be human.

Whenever I have those brief periods of peace and clarity, I try to spend a little time with Kyreagan’s hatchlings, Callim and Violet. It delights me that I have a niece and nephew, like Jessiva does.

Her absence grieves me daily, hourly, minute by minute. Yet I understand her better now. If, by some terrible turn of fate, Kyreagan and Serylla became unfit parents, I would do anything to ensure the safety, care, and happiness of their offspring. Nowthat I comprehend the emotions Jessiva was trying to express to me, I feel twice as guilty about keeping her from her family.

She’s been with them for about a month. I’ve received brief messages from her, but I haven’t replied. I would not know what to say. I swore to her once that I would not lie to her, and to tell her that I’m doing well would be an egregious falsehood. I want to beg her to return to me, but I won’t be selfish in that way again.

Instead of returning to the Twin Fangs, I’ve been going to the Ashmount when I need space to be alone and time to think. With Kyreagan back from the mainland, and Ashvelon taking a greater leadership role, I have fewer responsibilities on Ouroskelle than most of the other dragons, who are building new lives with their mates and hatchlings. I am alone, so I volunteer often for guard duty at the Ashmount. Rahzien is protected by a spell that Thelise devised, so I don’t have to worry about my magic harming him—and by supervising his prison, I can contribute to the clan and allow other dragons the time they need with their families.

When I’m guarding the former king, there’s not much to do besides fly in lazy circles above the once-volcanic island, or lie on its lava beds among the ash-roses and brood while shadows fill my mind.

Rahzien spends his days wandering through the abandoned fortress that serves as his prison. He can’t descend to the lava plains, but on sunny days he comes out onto the lower parapet to soak in the rays.

Today I’m wallowing in my own sadness over Jessiva’s departure, feeling the intense pressure of the void and the storm building inside me. At last I can’t bear it anymore, and I tear upward into the cloudy sky, vomiting bursts of void magic and forked streaks of crimson, white, and purple lightning.

This time, there is no relief afterward, only pain and a growing sense of panic. My body is glowing from the inside, fire and magic swelling at the seams of my scales.

I crash onto the broad lower parapet of the fortress, breathing hard. With a screaming roar, I vomit another orb, which streaks across the devastated landscape of the island and implodes harmlessly in the air.

“You’re fucked up, aren’t you?” drawls a voice.

I whip my head around with a snarl. Rahzien is leaning in an archway, watching me.

“You never used to act like this, or look likethat.” He jerks his chin toward my glowing scales. “What happened?”

“None of your goddamn business,” I growl. It’s a human swear, one I rather like.

“As you may know, I’ve messed around with magic—or rather, I’ve had others do it for me. Didn’t work out so well.”

“Obviously.” I should leave without speaking to him any further. Kyreagan and Serylla have warned me how manipulative he can be, how he likes to play with people’s minds. In that way, he is much like the Mordvorren.

I can feel it whispering around the corners of my mind, pressing more firmly into my brain. Over the past week, I’ve lost the ability to shift at will. I can only change when I’m forced to, when my time in each form runs out.

Rahzien crosses his arms, his biceps bulging. He’s manacled, and the chains clink when he moves. “Tell me what happened to you. Maybe I can help.”

I laugh bitterly. “You, helpme? You bribed my clan to serve you in war, resulting in the deaths of our females. You poisoned the prey on the islands you gave us, intending to kill off our entire race. You tortured my brother and planned to execute him. And you tormented and humiliated Serylla, who is like a sister to me.”

“Serylla,” Rahzien says softly. His tongue swipes over his lower lip, and his eyes grow distant. “I’d like to see her again.”

“You never will.”

“That’s probably true.” He sighs. “I don’t suppose you could have them send some wine with my next allotment of food?”

“We’re keeping you alive, not comfortable.”

“Oh, I’m not comfortable. Have no fear.” An exasperated sigh breaks from him. “I’m fucking miserable. You’re the first living soul I’ve spoken with in days. At least you’re talking to me. As I recall, you were always the more reasonable one of the two princes of Ouroskelle.” He smirks.

“Reasonable?” The word hisses between my fangs, and Rahzien draws back a step, a twinge of fear in his gaze even though he knows I can’t kill him. “Byreasonable, do you mean gullible? Pliant and pathetic? Soft? Easily persuaded? I’ll have you know I am none of those things. I am poison. I am destruction.” My voice deepens, changes, shifting into a tone that isn’t mine, but I can’t stop the flow of the words. “I am the doom they cannot prevent, the death they see coming and cannot stop. I cloak the lands and oceans in darkness. Rain like arrows, thunder like an earthquake, lightning like spears in the hand of a god.”

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