Page 68 of Soul of Thorns
The tree vibrates beneath me, purring like a pleased kitten.
We were supposed to fight together. We could have—
“Did you really think you had a chance against me, foolish child? No better than a hopeful puppy. Even together, you could not defeat me. You cannot win this battle.” The voice shifts and cool puffs of air hit my cheek.
I let out a pained breath, lungs burning. Caelynn isn’t dead yet, but maybe she was right all along. To win this game, she has to die. Loss washes over me again. I was just stupid to think there was hope to save her. Stubborn and foolish.
“Foolish, indeed.” The powerful voice sends waves of terror through me. “To think that victory would be so easy. Your mate’s death would be only the beginning, my pet.”
The massive slumping form shifts to the other side. “How loyal are you, dog?” She breathes on my neck. “That is what I wonder. You vowed to protect the world. Would you choose your mate over your duty? Or will you allow her to face her worst nightmares to save you over and over again? What will you do, dog, when I carve into her body like a knife through butter?”
Agony wracks through my body, muscles clenching at the thought of her pain.
“Will you endure her screams to retain your honor? Or will you do exactly as I ask to save her?”
“Where is she,” I grumble, pulling at the tight restraints over my arms and chest.
“Would you like to see? It’s quite a sad sight, I’ll warn you. But oh, I suppose I could oblige for a moment or two.”
My vision flashes, a landscape appearing before me. The swamp. I’m far over the water glistening softly.
Shadows puff in and out, traveling farther and farther over the waters. Once, twice, a third time.
Is she shadow walking?
“I have always admired that ability. Of course, the only reason she has it is because my mate gave it to her. She is only strong because of him. And soon, her strength will be ours.”
Caelynn falls to the bank on her hands and knees, and blood splatters. My stomach sinks. I don’t even know if the vision is real, but my soul cries out to her. Be okay, Caelynn. Please.
“Don’t you see it, my pet?”
I jump as sharp claws run down my cheek. My vision is still entirely on the swamp, seeing something not even here. I can’t even be sure it’s real...
“Your mate is dying. Would you like to watch as she wastes away? It’s so achingly slow,” the creature draws, her finger carving down my chest, a caress that splits the skin. I can feel the warm blood pooling on my skin, dripping slowly, though all I see is Caelynn.
The image shifts, circling as Caelynn crawls through several hundred feet of dismembered limbs.
“That’s my handy work, you know?” the Night Terror brags. “There are so many of them—bodies unaltered—at the bottom of that swamp. The perfect medium for my art.”
There is no pattern or beauty to the placement of the body parts. She just enjoyed carving them up. I’d believe science over art.
Caelynn crawls desperately, her body moments from giving out. She gags into the piles of bodies.Get up, I think.Keep fighting.
There is a wraith hovering over her. My hands clench into fists. Is he helping her or hurting her? I can’t tell if he cares for her at all, or if he only wants something from her like she suggests.
Caelynn continues pushing forward then finally, falls onto her face in the mud just past the pile of body parts.
“She is giving up,” the beast whispers delicately, and a sob builds in my chest.
“If she dies,” I whisper, voice hoarse, heartbroken—but angry. Vindictive. “You lose.”
A roar of laughter sends shockwaves over my body. The tree beneath me vibrates with pleasure. “If only you knew how wrong you are, my pet.”
“What do you mean?” I breathe. I’m sure I shouldn’t be conversing with this thing no matter what. The vision might not even be true. Her words very well could be complete fabrications, but I can’t help it. My wounded soul is thirsty for understanding.
“Caelynn’s death would result in her losing her ability to reverse my curse. This is true. But,” the branches clench around me, squeezing me so tightly I can’t breathe, “there is a difference between the death of the body and death of the soul.”
The branches loosen their grip, and air rushes back through my lungs.
