Page 106 of Silver Claws, Crimson Tears
—Promise,I insisted until he finally agreed.
Now, moonlight catches on my knuckles, white fromsqueezing the armrests. I force my fingers to relax, close my eyes, and let my head fall back.
—Do your worst,I say. Find what they tried to hide.
The first touch of his consciousness against my subconscious feels like a soft caress. Still I gasp, and need to tell myself not to resist.
—Find everything,I urge as his power surges forward.
I stiffen as Zephyros’s presence intensifies in my mind. His consciousness feels like cool waves washing against rocky shores—gentle at first, then increasingly forceful. The pressure builds behind my eyes until I want to scream.
—You need to relax completely, Rhealyn,he chides.Your defenses are like iron walls.
—I’m trying,I snap, then force myself to exhale slowly.Just... don’t be gentle. Whatever’s in there, Ineedto know.
Something flickers, a fragment of memory. Tahranis’s face swimming before me, his white hair gleaming in torchlight. Then darkness.
—Deeper,I urge Zephyros.
Pain explodes through my skull. I taste copper on my tongue, realize I’ve bitten my lip. My fingers clutch the armrests, nails digging into wood.Wyrm’s rot, it hurts worse than when the King did it.
A flash.
Stone walls dripping with moisture. A child’s voice—Fern—singing a haunting melody. Him watching me through darkness.
“Come on,” I whisper aloud, blood trickling down my chin.
The pressure intensifies until I feel my consciousness fracturing. Too much. It’s too?—
—STOP!Zephyros’s command cuts through everything. His presence withdraws so suddenly I nearly vomit.
I slump forward, gasping for breath, sweat soaking my shirt.—Why did you stop?
—Because I felt something push back. Something not human. Someone has built walls in your mind that even I cannot breach without risking your ruin.
My heart pounds against my ribs. Walls that aren’t human? What in all the hells? The violation makes me want to scream until my throat bleeds.
“Who did this to me?” I snarl, slamming my fist against the table. The books jump, pages rustling like startled birds. “Tahranis is human, isn’t he? Was it the ritual? Tell me what you felt!”
—Not who, what. The presence felt... ancient. Familiar, yet not. Like a dragon, but twisted somehow.
—A dragon?I wipe blood from my chin, leaving a crimson streak across my sleeve.—That makes no sense.
—Whoever did it, they have immense power.
Immense power.
My gaze turns to Phoebe’s research, the drawings of what scholars think Heratrix would have looked like since no old texts are still in existence that depict her true semblance. The massive dragon from my vision flashes through my mind again.
—What if... what if it was her?I ask, still fighting against that possibility. Heratrix. What if she did this?
—It is a distinct possibility.I feel him sigh through the bond.I’ve been turning all of this over in my mind since the vision the King unleashed,Zephyros admits, his tone hesitant.There is something not right about it all. The King’s touch... I believe it was meant to unleash more.
I lean forward, pressing my palms against my temples.—What do you mean?
—You fought it, Rhealyn. You always fight. Itis why I chose you.There’s a note of pride in his thoughts.I believe what you saw was incomplete. Think about it. If King Craven now expects you to be his ally, to spy for him, to betray your own... he must believe you know exactly what is happening.
I blink, considering, remembering how I fought against the memory, how desperately I tried to push Tahranis away.
