Page 2 of Soul of Thorns
Itake in a long breath, watching the shadows shift over the dark waters. The dull, hazy light of the sun is just rising over the horizon behind a film of fog. The shift is subtle. Our surroundings grow progressively lighter as the night ends and day begins, but in this place, that only means a haze of reddish light over dark lands. It’s enough to keep the wraiths hidden—mostly—but not enough to make this hellish landscape bright or friendly.
The mumbling voices of the dead can occasionally be heard in the hills surrounding our little valley. Their smoke magic wafts to and fro on the rocky hillsides.
Is one of them my brother? I wonder as I sit on a rock and watch the bubbling tar-like waters of the swamp where I last saw him. Where I threw him into the oily pit and watched him flee.
I fought my brother for Caelynn.
It’s still hard to wrap my mind around, to be honest.
The brother I’ve hero-worshiped since I was a child. The brother I’d vowed to avenge against the female sleeping soundly in the cottage behind me. The female I’m now determined to protect.
I twist a little white stone between my fingers, watching the reddish light reflect off of it.
When I grabbed the stone from my court, I hadn’t thought it would mean much. A symbol of what I’d lost. But as time goes on, it means more and more.
We have a home here, a little hand-built, rickety cottage that’s covered in mildew and dust and protected by magic. We have enough supplies to survive temporarily... but not to thrive.
Our first two nights here, I stayed awake until early morning, keeping watch as Caelynn slept. While wraiths groaned in the distance. But they never came near.
It didn’t take long for my guard to fall and for my attention to turn away from the anticipation of a fight to watching Caelynn’s pained expression as she tossed and turned on the uneven straw bed.
The wound my brother gave her was significant. I’ve never feared death more than I feared hers. Another question to add to my list. I’ve felt so many conflicting things about the lovely shadow fae. I’ve hated her. I’ve desired her death. I’ve respected her. I’ve grown to care for her, even as I distrusted her. I felt betrayed by her—only to learn that once again, she was sacrificing to help me.
I don’t think I’ll ever know everything she’s done for me.
And all I’ve ever done is hurt her.
Now, it might be too late to change that. By entering the Schorchedlands, she made her biggest sacrifice yet. Only one of us can leave this place, and I know she intends for it to be me.
The hair on my arms stands up suddenly, and the air around me cools. My gaze flashes to the inky-black waters of the swamp then up to a dark form hovering over it only a few feet away.
The breath catches in my throat. The wraith wafts gently. Silently. His smoke-like form swirls and shifts, but the hole where his eyes should be is black. Empty of emotion. No aggression or anger or fear—nothing.
Muscles tense, scarcely breathing, I slowly rise from my seat on the uneven stone, eyes never leaving the wraith.
I’ve seen dozens of wraiths over the last few days but only from afar. Their voices carry over the mountain range as they roam randomly, but they leave this valley mostly alone. Since I fought Reahgan, since he failed to kill Caelynn in order to “save me,” they’ve kept their distance. They’ve never come within a hundred feet of either of us.
Light flickers in my palm, ready to fight. I could kill him easily, quickly, but the use of my magic would draw more wraiths to us. So, instead, I wait.
The wraith doesn’t draw closer. It doesn’t speak. In fact, it’s only movement is gentle swaying as he hovers over the swamp.
Then, a cry of pain grabs my attention. My blood turns to ice as I whip my head toward the cottage.Caelynn.
The terror of her voice causes my gut to clench, and without another moment of hesitation, I sprint back to our temporary home. Panic rushes over my body as I pound over the ashen ground and shove through the crooked wooden door. “Caelynn?” I call.
In only an instant, I size up the room. The wards are still intact, and the cottage is quiet. No evidence of wraiths or other creatures anywhere nearby.
Caelynn is sitting up in bed, blond hair falling into her face as she pants desperately, holding her throat. I rush to her, a knee on the bed beside her and a hand braced on the wall as I lean over her, prepared to heal an injury. “What’s wrong?” I croak, placing two fingers under her chin. I lift her face towards mine.
Her expression flickers between confusion and pain and fear.
“I’m fine.” Her voice is sharp. Determined.
I swallow as I notice our proximity. Our faces are inches apart. Her eyes flicker to my chest, to my eyes, and then away.
“I’m fine,” she says again, pulling her face from my gentle grip.
Slowly, I lean back. I don’t have an issue with being... close to her, but she’s made it clear over the last few days that she’s not comfortable with intimacy. She’s been standoffish since we’ve been here, leaving me wondering if I’d been wrong about everything.
