Behind Ashana crouched one of her chambermaids, and only my wife acted as a shield between her companion and . . . a creature from the Abyss. Two men’s bodies had merged, joined by their abdomens, to give birth to a four-legged monster. Its head—just one—was monstrously deformed, and had a gigantic mouth equipped with sharp teeth. Its four feet were hooves, those of a goat, and it had a feline tail. With only one arm, the creature rested its three fingers on the flat of the dagger my wife held with both hands. Ash glowed red, and in the air, I could smell the distinctive scent of burning skin. When I saw that Ashana’s cheek was cut and bleeding, something inside me broke under the flood of powerful anger.
Even the ground seemed to tremble beneath my footsteps. I approached them, sensing that my humanity, the one I’d acquired over time, was unravelling and giving way to something older and far more dangerous.
“Eezyr, mu saval ur kaes.1 I growled, pointing my sword in the creature’s direction. No persaam afa lé stiib dar ghul myr Shana. No persaam if mu.
The creature reacted to the sound of my voice, and when its single eye met my gaze, it knew that its adversary was not Ashana, but me.
With a deafening shriek, the monster turned from my wife to face me, sweeping the air with its single arm, moving it from left to right as it lumbered towards me with heavy steps. I got into a guard position.
When it was close enough, I slashed at it diagonally, from top to bottom. Flame, my sword, briefly set it ablaze. A gleam of astonishment crossed its gigantic eye, and it finally fell to the ground with the acrid smell of death. My ancient words had pleased my sword, and it had responded with its power.
Slowly, I lowered my weapon until its bloody tip touched the sandy soil of the dunes.
“I’m . . . I’m sorry, Dovah.”
My gaze met my wife’s.
“You should be, my wife. You risked your life and that of your chambermaids to satisfy your curiosity. There is no stupider reason to die than this.”
I was furious, it was true, but mostly because I’d been afraid of losing her. Whatever form I took, I was eternal—not her. Ashana looked away sheepishly.
“I was wrong,” she whispered under my agitated gaze.
“What’s going on?”
It was Kynnen, followed by my men. When I didn’t reply, my brother nudged the monster with the tip of his shoe to make sure it was truly dead. Half-sliced in two and burned by Flame; for my part, I had no doubt.
“I’ll escort these ladies back with the Osacan soldiers. I will leave you to take care your wife.”
She didn’t look too pleased. It was at this precise moment that I noticed her strange outfit, which hugged every curve of her body.
“What is this outfit?” I asked her in a dry tone.
Here, I was mostly annoyed because part of me, the part that didn’t need to think about anything, was enjoying the view.
Ashana straightened up, rubbed her hands together, then cleared her throat.
“I wanted to be discreet, to blend into the night landscape.”
I raised an eyebrow. Really? She’d thought she would “blend into the night landscape” with clothes so tight they revealed every detail of her busty anatomy? Her appetizing hips and breasts, all of it cleverly illuminated by the full moon? We could see her as clear as day!
“It’s not quite right, but I find your attire . . . interesting.”
I knew there was nothing tender or polite about my smile. It was that of a man who was hungry and ready to feast, there in the dunes, on the eve of his official wedding.
My wife’s face lit up so brightly that I felt I was becoming as blind as my brother Paivrin while admiring it.
“Let’s go home, Ashana. There are no more creatures here, but I don’t want to come face to face with grave robbers. All I want is to know that you’re safe.”
A short silence passed before she spoke to me again.
“Grave robbers?” she repeated, accepting my hand.
While my fingers were burning, my wife’s were ice-cold. Nice outfit, but it doesn’t keep you very warm against the cool night air of the Osacan desert.
“Those of the Dark Gods. They loved gold, and so do the looters,” I said in a colder inflection than I would have liked.
“Ah. And, um . . . these creatures, what are they? There aren’t any in Muvaria.”