Page 25 of This Vicious Dream

A branch cracks and I launch myself from the log, stumbling backwards.

“Well, what do we have here?” A tall, thin man leers at me, another moving up beside him. “You look remarkably similar to a woman with a bounty on her head, doesn’t she Ostir?”

The other man grins, revealing gaps where teeth should be. “She sure does. All that red hair. Come with us and we won’t hurt you,” he calls to me.

I rake them with a disparaging look. As expected, both men stiffen, striding toward me.

And straight into my flames.

I drop to my knees as memories slam into me. This isn’t the first time I’ve burned men alive.

Solider after soldier have succumbed to my flames. I lived through all of it, the reek of burned flesh crawling up my nose and into my mouth.

The soldiers disappear, and I’m suddenly sitting in a plush room, staring at a boy with sad eyes.

“The dark god knew his siblings were going to strip him of his incredible power. His memories. They were tired of the favoritism his father showed him, and they didn’t approve of his plans for this world. Before they could attack him, he learned of their plan. He poured much of his knowledge, power, and self into three grimoires, casting them out into this world. He knew they would be used, and when they were, that knowledge would call to him.”

I tense. If Regner ever found the other two grimoires, we were doomed. I couldn’t let him become that powerful. He didn’t get to win.After everything he’d taken from all of us… The life I could’ve had…

More memories.

The swing of a sword, my father’s head rolling free. War. So much death.

Leaning over, I vomit, then give into dry sobs, my entire body trembling.

When I return to myself, I’m covered in a cold sweat. I don’t know how long I’ve been here, but the bodies on the ground are no longer smoking.

I grew up without a mother and I watched as my father was beheaded by a tyrant king’s soldier. I lived at court as one of Regner’s queen’s ladies, forced to fawn over that queen daily.

There are still holes. But I know I met Prisca and Asinia. I escaped certain death. I fought in a war.

Most importantly, I know what I’m protecting.

A grimoire. One of three. A grimoire filled with incredible, unspeakable power.

Calysian wants it. Kyldare wants it. The Sylvarin Queen wants it.

That one book held enough power for a king to enslave a continent and hold a magical barrier around that continent for hundreds of years.

Prisca gave me the grimoire after I…used it. I used it to undo Regner’s magic and return the power he had stolen to the humans in Eprotha.

Is that why I can sense it? Is that why I could borrow some of its power in the tower, striking out with my thorns?

I stare down at my shaking hands. Was I using the grimoire…or was the grimoire using me? No matter how much I strain, I can no longer access that power.

Considering who it belongs to, that’s probably a good thing.

As much as I want to kill Vicana, I can’t give in to the urge to find the grimoire. I have to get off this continent, which means I need to get to a ship before I’m captured again. Before those who hunt for the grimoire use my strange connection to it to take its dark power.

Calysian’s words echo in my head and I force my mind to return to the moment I saw him at the tower. Surprise had flashed across his face. He hadn’t expected to see me. Hadn’t known I was the one there.

Someone must have told him the woman in the tower could lead him to the grimoire.

My mind races. Stumbling to my feet, I roll my shoulders, making my way past the bodies, to where the men left two horses tied near the road. The men were likely following me for some time. I don’t regret their deaths.

I search their saddlebags, finding a coin pouch, a map, and some horse feed.

Unrolling the map, I crouch near the horses as I use a couple of rocks to pin the map in place. I crossed the Wyrdale River with Calysian less than a day ago, so the city of Kolegrift should be just a few hours from here.

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