Page 83 of The Musician and the Monster

Fear dried her throat, but she continued as best she could. The song she began told of traveling through winter snows to visit a lover. A happy tune, or it should have been.

Drystan’s back hunched. Fabric ripped at the seam of an arm. A shimmer of darkness hovered about his form, one so close to changing.

Not again. Please not this.

Malik leaped from his seat and paced around Drystan, holding his attention. “Calm, cousin,” he said over the song. “You can control this.”

Drystan gritted his teeth. With a shake, the blue returned to fill his eyes. He dipped his fingers in the goblet of blood on the altar and moved them through the pattern of the magical working. Sweat beaded on his brow and dripped down his skin as Ceridwen continued to play despite her worry.

Ever so slowly, the blood began to disappear.

It’s working. Oh Goddess, please let him be successful this time.

“Almost there, Drystan. Breathe.” Malik coached him from outside the circle of protection he’d crafted.

A shimmer passed over the blade as the blood disappeared completely into the altar.

“He’s done it.”

Drystan closed his eyes and breathed deeply. The flute slipped from Ceridwen’s lips as she stared at the blade still lit with an eerie glow. She gazed in rapture at the object that had taken so much effort to craft. As the light faded, it looked no different from a simple blade any commoner could own.

Drystan’s body shook. A half grunt, half growl split the air.

“Drystan!” Ceridwen lurched from her chair.

Malik waved her back. “Play! He’s losing it.”

Her legs gave way as she thumped onto the seat, flute flying to her lips. She played in earnest, pouring everything she had into the song. Her fear. Her love. Her own deep sorrow.

It didn’t help.

Fabric ripped. His eyes flashed bright red. Claws elongated from his hands to scrape against stone.

They were losing him.

Ceridwen looked away as more fabric ripped, revealing skin turned inky black and stretched tight across bone. Tears blurred her vision. The music didn’t help. It wasn’t enough. Just as it hadn’t been enough to keep her mother alive after she sent her into danger.

A sharp howl pierced the room. The flute slipped from her lips as Malik cried out in pain. Ceridwen’s head snapped to the altar where Drystan’s monster stood upright, fully dark and horrifying. Only a few frayed bits of cloth clung to what once had been a human body. Malik gripped his arm and fell back against a wall, his teeth gritted at the monster.

Drystan swiped again, feet shuffling at the edge of Malik’s working, stirring up red sparks that rose from the stone floor as the magic frayed.

“Drystan, stop!” Ceridwen waved her arms. Blood rushed to her ears, drowning out the monster’s loud breaths.

It swiveled slowly in her direction, head bobbing ever so slightly. Pointed fangs filled its gaping mouth.

“This isn’t you.” Tears slid down her face.

“Try again,” Malik said. He’d managed to shuffle along the wall, keeping well out of range of the circle he’d drawn. A dark stain marred his navy coat where he held his other hand tightly against the wound.

Drystan’s attention slipped back to his cousin. Red irises flickered as drops of blood fell and splattered onto the stone tiles.

Ceridwen swallowed and raised her flute again, continuing the tune where she’d left off. To her side, Malik traced a pattern on his arm with his own blood.

The monster lunged for the barrier. The movement knocked the chalice of blood off the altar, sending it splashing across the floor in a gruesome display. A horrid squeak slipped out of the flute in the wake of her shock as more crimson sparks fluttered up from the ground. The monster’s tantrum grew worse as it pawed and roared in the narrow space.

“It may not hold much longer,” Malik said, edging ever so slightly in front of her.

His action only spurred the monster on. Ceridwen’s heart cracked with every swipe the monster took.

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