Bones. Hundreds of bones.
The remnants of a fire.
The whisper of broken blades.
And then, I see something that fits not at all.
I see a shelf of books. Old and engraved in ancient ruins. Yet, there is no dust upon them. They have been used. They have been maintained. Something has been living here.
And it was not the raiders.
A whine echoes behind me. Full of pain and agony. A whimper of an injured animal.
Baron!
I turn with haste.
And then I see her.
Cloaked in shadow.
Wisps of black smoke flowing off her body.
A black rag hanging over her eyes.
There is only one part of her not hidden to darkness. Her teeth. Bright and sharp. Too many of them, layered upon themselves. Too many to fit one mouth.
She smells like embers and ash. The smell of burning though there is no fire. The feel of smoke in my chest though the air is clear. I hadn't noticed before, but the scent only left me once. Only when we left the girl at the edge of the cave.
There was never a Fae child in the village. There was never a bandit camp.
There was only the Darkness.
The creature speaks. It has the voice of a youth. The voice of a little Fae girl. "The villagers were as easy to fool as you, Fenris. So quickly they rushed to perform my ritual, when I promised them safety and vengeance. So quickly did they sacrifice themselves."
The poor souls. She tricked them. Fooled them into casting a false ritual and absorbed their powers as her own. But why?
Dean draws his bow, knocking back an arrow. "What are you!" he yells.
The thing, the Wraith, laughs. She drifts through the air, moving slowly, then swifter than the eye can see. Behind my shoulder. Behind Dean's. Whispering in my ear. Whispering in his. When she speaks, her voice is young and old, light and dark all at once. "I am before your time, my prince. I was here when this world was new, and I will be here when it is old. You are but children to me." She runs a hand down my cheek. Vanishes. Appears before me. "Such sweet children."
She is still. And this is our chance.
Dean fires an arrow. I charge.
And then the world turns upside down.
I am no longer on the floor. I hang from the ceiling. Something holds my legs. Roots dark and thick. Dean hangs beside me.
The Wraith is still right side up, her face before me. "We will not fight, my young princes. That is not why I brought you here."
Here. This place of her power. This place where she can bind us and trap us with mere thoughts. This is why she lured us here. And I followed like a fool, when I should have been searching for Arianna.
I spit at the Wraith. "Then what? What do you want?"
She glides around us, sliding her hands over our bodies, tapping at us with long, sharp nails. "I have a proposition, my dear princes. There is someone I seek. Someone outside my power. Bring him to me."
Dean snickers. "And what? You'll let us go? Leave us alone?"
The Wraith speaks softly. "I will do more than that, my dear. I will tell you where you can find your princess. Where you can find Arianna."
I gasp at the mention of her name. At the chance. At hope. This cannot be true. But, if the Wraith has such power, she will know. She will know where I must go.
"Who?" I ask through gritted teeth. "Who is it that you want?"
She leans in. Her breath cold and freezing upon my cheek. And then she whispers his name. "Tavian Gray."
Chapter 4
THE CHAIN THAT BINDS ME
Fenris Vane
"Fen is a good man, but he is myopic in his focus."
—Kayla Windhelm
I wake in the snow, gasping for breath, the sunlight blinding my eyes. Baron jumps to my side, licking at the frost on my hair. He appears uninjured. Whatever the Wraith did, he has recovered. For once, I am grateful he is a Spirit and no mortal wolf. Losing him… losing him is not something I can think of, so instead I pet his head, soothing his excitement. "Easy boy, I'm fine. I'm fine."
He puts his paws on my chest, as if to check for wounds, or perhaps just to be closer. For a moment, we just look into each other's eyes, man and animal, grateful we are both alive.
Then the snow next to me stirs, and Dean pushes out from underneath the layers of white. "What the bloody hell happened? What was that thing?"
"The Darkness," I say, memories returning to me. Memories of smoke and bone.
Dean looks around, then pauses, glancing at me. "You've seen it before, haven't you?"
"Once. At the Grey Mountain."
Dean nods. "Your trial. The one you had to pass to gain your own realm. You remember?"
I stand, turning away. "Bits and pieces. They return to me slowly ever since…" I cannot say the words. Not yet. Not even though I made stone move with my bare hands.
Dean finishes for me. "Ever since you learned you're Fae."
I nod. All the acknowledgement I can give. Then I return to the point. "I found her lair deep in the mountain, filled with bones and books. And then…"
"Then what?"
"I… I don't remember." Odd. The memory just ends. "I must have escaped. Then I made my way higher, to slay the Grey Beast."
Dean leans back, smiling. "Oh yes, those were the days. Back when there was still dangerous game to hunt."
I remember the snow-covered peak. The blizzard. The dark beast hidden in the torrent of wind and ice. When I speak, my voice carries no happiness. "Yes… those were the days."