Page 85 of This Vicious Dream

The long, sinewy form has just rounded the bend, entering this part of the swamp. It’s far enough way that my plan has a chance of working—but it will be breathtakingly close. Already, the serpent is slicing through the water, shockingly fast. It moves like a shadow, so fast it’s almost a blur, its sleek, muscular body undulating beneath the surface.

As expected, the creature couldn’t resist.

Not after hunting me and Calysian for days.

Now I just have to time this perfectly.

Breathless and trembling, I count down in my head, ruthlessly suppressing the need to move.

Now.

Ducking my head, I dive into the water, beneath the tree branch. Cold weight presses against my skin, and panic claws at me.

I can’t see anything. Not my hands, not the roots beneath me, not even the faintest shimmer of light.

I’m going to die, here in this swamp.

No. I know where the shore is.

Yes, you know where it is. Now fucking swim.

I strike out, my movements clumsy, desperate. The swamp churns around me, and I make it six strokes before I feel it. That same cold, primal magic.

The serpent has turned. And it’s aiming directly for me.

I veer to the side, kicking hard, my lungs burning. The creature closes in.

Go, go, go.

Lifting my head, I gasp for air, and an arrow slices toward me, so close I can feel the tiny breeze it creates.

“Don’t kill her!” Kyldare roars.

My blood burns hot, and I channel my rage, diving again. Even if he gets the grimoire, Kyldare will never let me go. No, he’ll make me pay for escaping him. And he’ll enjoy it.

Murky water rushes over my head as I kick blindly for the shore, a sob clawing up my throat at the feel of solid ground. Surging forward, I claw my way onto the bank. Mud clings to my skin, reeds tangle around my legs, but I crawl forward.

Don’t stop.

I need to put as much distance between myself and the water as possible.

A deep ripple surges behind me, and the serpent breaks the surface of the water, just footspans from my previous position, right next to the shore. My heart slams into my ribs and I scramble for firmer ground.

The creature is easily thirty footspans long, its sinewy body covered in dark, glistening scales. Its blunt, wide head is framed by a ridge of bony, spiked protrusions that curve backward, almost like a crown.

Scanning the chaos with eerie intelligence, the serpent blinks, and I choke on the horror of it.

Slitted pupils are surrounded by a pale glow that fixes on the nearest soldier. The idiot is standing too close to the shore.

The soldier turns to run, but the serpent opens its maw, revealing a single row of jagged teeth. It strikes, plucking him off the shore and dragging him under in an explosion of water and foam.

The screams begin.

Even Kyldare stumbles back, his face twisting in disbelief as the serpent lashes out, its tail whipping through the air and catching another soldier, slamming him into the water.

I cast a single, desperate glance toward the tree where Calysian stands. His eyes burn with pure, unrelenting rage.

Rage, and terror.

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