Page 83 of Oath of War
The symbols etched into my father’s body flared to life, their glow almost blinding. His hoarse, agonised screams echoed through the grotto, each cry reverberating with the excruciating process of having his soul flayed from his living flesh.
Rowena was meticulous, almost reverent, her lips curling into a serene smile as she wielded the aether with surgical precision, stripping away every fragment of his spirit.
A translucent form began to emerge above his prone body, its spectral fists pounding uselessly against Rowena as it wailed in silent fury. My father’s body ceased thrashing, but I could barely register it through my own haze of pain.
Blood trickled from my nose, mouth, and eyes, falling onto his pallid face. The aether ripped through me mercilessly, tearingme apart from within. Yet Rowena didn’t stop until she had turned him into an empty shell, ready for a new host.
Bit by bit, my father was unmade. His soul’s final tether snapped, and the essence of the man who had sired me faded into nothingness.
Rowena continued, a malicious presence rising from the Lich King’s corpse, and his spirit at last emerged, grotesque and serpentine, bloated with corrupted power. Roan’s body jerked, spasming when Cahyon’s soul forced its way inside—a parasite nestling inside its new, more comfortable disguise.
I hung limp in my dark bonds, knowing the powerful onslaught had caused a magical burnout, a most severe and likely irreparable damage.
‘Lara, keep him alive.’ My sister’s commanding voice broke through my suffering, and a cold female hand landed on my forehead. I tried to pull away, but I was weak. Healing magic coursed through my veins, and my vision cleared enough to see Rowena reaching up to cut the ties that held my father’s body in place.
The creature that rose from the altar looked straight into my eyes, and I gasped, sensing its power.
‘You’ve done well, my necromancer. I even think I’ll let you rest before we bond again,’ Cahyon said, stretching his stolen limbs. ‘Rowena, darling, bring me food and some unspoiled fae women.’
My sister nodded, and even if I knew it was a different person, it was still my father’s body. At seeing the glee on my sister’s face and her eagerness to please him, I drifted into the refuge of black oblivion.
1.Augurec—An alloy of silver, iron, and copper produced by artificer mages with the ability to disrupt the natural patterns of aether; magical shackles.
Istood on top of Varta’s high walls, watching the camp below as a sharp wind angrily whipped my dress against my legs. I could feel a hint of the first snow in its cold edge. The weather had changed drastically lately, cutting the days short and filling them with a gloomy greyness and wicked squalls that left one gasping.
Come to me before the first snow falls in Katrass.
The Lich King’s words haunted me, and I wrapped my cloak tighter around my shoulders, forlornly looking at the sky.
We were intending to march to the Rift tomorrow. The combined forces of the Lowland Kingdoms were heading into the Second Necromancer’s War, and I couldn’t stop feeling guilty, knowing so many of our warriors would soon face death if I couldn’t end this.
For the guests gathered in the castle and the soldiers in the camp, I presented a calm demeanour—a poised, confident battle mage, as if I knew exactly what I was doing. Here, alone,however, I could let the mask slip, and the wind steal away my woes. Here, and behind the closed doors of Orm’s bedroom.
He knew I wasn’t alright, that I hadn’t slept properly since Alaric’s departure. But Orm didn’t ask for an explanation, letting me pretend everything was perfectly normal. I was grateful for that little mercy.
‘I knew I’d find you here.’
I turned around, stretching my lips into a forced smile. Katja marched towards me, her gaze stern and locked onto my face with a harshness that only softened when she halted in front of me.
‘It’s just the wind,’ I said defensively, acutely aware she had noticed my red-rimmed eyes.
‘Yes, the wind is harsh this year ... harsher for some than others,’ she said and, much to my surprise, stepped forward to take my hand. ‘Will you tell me what’s going on, or should I drug you to get to the bottom of ... this?’ She waved her hands around me, sighing deeply. ‘I don’t want to see you broken again. I remember this haunted look from when you first came to Zalesie, it—’ She paused. ‘Please, talk to me.’
‘You don’t need to drug me,’ I said, looking back out at the camp. ‘... I’m afraid.’
‘I know. We all are. But you’re the only one acting like we’re going on a picnic. It’s fine to be scared, Ani,’ she said before asking, ‘Is that lumbering oaf of yours forcing you to pretend like this? Or does he not know how you feel?’
‘Orm? Oh, he knows, and he knows how to deal with it. A few rounds on his special rod, and all the nightmares go away’ I said. ‘Well, most of them. I can’t sleep, and I think I’m going insane. Last night, I swear I heard Alaric—he said he’d found his sister and that they were coming home. But it had to be wishful thinking. Even dragon thoughtspeech doesn’t work at such distances.’
‘But he’s your Anchor.’
‘So is Orm, and even though I can sometimes pick up his feelings, we are not in each other’s minds.’
Katja nodded, releasing me before turning to look at the army camp beside me.
‘I guess we’ll know if he suddenly appears,’ she said, wrapping her arm around my shoulders. ‘Have you seen the women who have volunteered to fight alongside the men?’
‘Yes, they practise daily,’ I said. ‘But a couple of days of swinging a sword don’t make you a warrior. We both know they are seeking revenge, yet most of them will only find death.’
