Page 36 of Eternal Ruin
Before his spine could flinch from the sweet violence leaking from the words, Arin brought her iron fist down.
A terrible crack went through.
The hole was demolished, shaking Susenyos’s bones. He tried to jump, but the height was too great, and several boulders came straight at him. He swore and landed back down, shielding his face as a mountain of stone buried him. His limbs were pinned by the weight of the world, the individual cracks of his bones singing a melody of agony.
The roar of the mountain collapsing filled his ears—then silence.
He panted as darkness swallowed him.
His limbs were stiff and immobile, and a surge of dread overwhelmed him.
It wasn’t the first time Susenyos had been buried alive by Arin. She was an expert in correcting flaws in her vampires, and it would have been embarrassing to have the Nefrasi leader, emperor of Gojam Province, cowering in tight, dark places.
The dampness of the wet stone brought back memories he’d stifled. Rot creeping along the skin, traveling along his veins in searing heat. And her scream, his betrothed, Talaa.
Susenyos tried to fight against the image. He thought of the sun, divine light washing over him in gentle waves. He thought of Adane House, the portrait of the Sage that saved him. And a girl, with eyes like the desert at night who wanted to destroy him. Then kiss him.
Kidan.
His companion.
A smile touched his lips. That was where he stayed, recounting their memories, meeting by the garden fireplace, a small bird in her hands, death lingering close to her, like an ever-present shadow.
Time lost its meaning and he settled onto the floor, carving space for himself. He saw her then—the Sage from his dreams, felt her right behind his eyes.
“You’re safe,” she whispered. Her voice was one and many at once—healing. “I won’t let you die.”
Susenyos believed her. Allowed her to distract him from the choking hold the stones had on his body, the bloodthirst that made him desperate enough to tear out his fangs.
“They’ll be here soon.”
When his body began the painful process of eating at itself, Susenyos heard the creak of the stones shifting. Thank God. He could move a finger.
A moment later, a shaft of light hit him square in the eye and he shut his eyes. It was more than overstimulating, every dust particle and ray piercing his corneas.
“You look quite dead.” Taj grinned down at him. “But alive.”
Susenyos barely had the energy to reprimand him for taking so long. He only freed his hand and held it up.
Taj threw down a blood bag.
He caught it, his fangs expanding at the sight, though his stomach winced. Ignoring it, Susenyos brought the liquid to his mouth.
And immediately spat it out.
It was supposed to taste like elation. A divine awareness of every atom inside his body and outside, transcending to the heavens. Heal him.
Iniko appeared at the top. She always looked out of place with her high-collared Victorian-era clothing. It was Arin’s doing, a lost bet. Two centuries later, Iniko still kept true to her word and dressed in the very clothing she once despised.
“What’s wrong?” Iniko asked him.
“It tastes foul. Like mud. I told you to get mefreshblood, Taj.”
“What are you talking about? This was drawn today. Don’t tell me you prefer warm blood only. Ever since the companionship ceremony, you’ve been in a mood.”
Susenyos scowled, peeling himself from the stones and grabbing the rope Iniko threw.
Once on the ground, he shook his twists free of rubble and dust and threw the bag at Taj. “It’s gone bad.”
