Chapter 6

She awoke to pain.

Leiyn pried open her eyes. They had swollen so she could barely see. A stinging sensation along her scalp reminded her of Adelina’s lash.

It was the least of her wounds. Her arms throbbed. Her feet prickled. Her back screamed with every movement. She did not like to think of the state of her clothes, fresh tears cut into them. Cold stone reminded her where she was, dust and dirt finding their way into her open wounds.

Worse still was the state of her esse. Dark rends from the priestess’s invisible attack sent soul-deep aches through her. They had only relented a little for the time that had passed. Healing proceeded even slower now. Perhaps her injuries were too much to overcome while her mahia was repressed by her manacles.

But, for now, she lived.

It had not been entirely apparent she would survive. Zaki had hovered nearby for what must have only been a few hours—but felt an eternity—and constantly prodded Leiyn awake. Only once the Eteman was convinced Leiyn would not die in her sleep did they allowed her to pass out. It had been easy to let go. Sleep seduced her toward its depths.

More difficult was clawing back to consciousness. Leiyn tried to will herself upright, but her body failed to comply. She shivered, the heat of her lifefire far from sufficient to warm her through. The cold had already become a constant, but now, it took up residence within her, cradling her bones in numbing hands.

“My, my, Oldsoul, you make for a sorry sight.”

Only that voice floating from the gloom could have roused Leiyn. Body shrieking in protest, Leiyn sat upright and braced her back against the smooth wall. Darkness shot through her vision, threatening her with unconsciousness. Stubbornly, she fought it back, blinking to take in her unwelcome visitor.

“Sharo.”

Even by the faint glow emanating from the central chamber, she saw his smile. He appeared much the same as she had seen him before, clad in rich robes of deep emerald lined with silver. His hands, spidery and tipped with claws, interlaced before his midriff, like a prim priestess about to initiate a prayer. His skin, though still gray, had gathered something of a silver sheen to it. A luster she had seen in a memory long lost.

Once, the Iritu had been silver-skinned and almost human in appearance, if with alien proportions. Sharo was returning to how his people had once been.

His eyes showed the greatest change. Catching the feeble light, it amplified them to the deep green of a shadowed forest. Toward the slitted irises, they turned golden, like flecks of sunlight radiated out from within.

He’s growing stronger.

Leiyn refused to acknowledge despair, even as it threatened to swallow her. Here she was, weak and injured and bound, without friends or titans to call upon. Entirely at his mercy.

But he hasn’t killed me.

He wanted something from her. Something only she could give. So long as that remained true, there was hope. The faintest glimmer, like a star only seen from the corner of your eye. But hope all the same.

The lyshan lord stepped toward her, moving with an unnatural, languid grace that hardly shifted his upper half. “You have upset our servants, we see. Sister Adelina, we trust?”

Part of Leiyn wanted to say as much. If there was even the chance of reprimand, she would spill everything she knew of the priestess. But answering a question came too close to compliance.

Leiyn pressed her lips tightly together and held his gaze.

His intrusion came without warning.

Agony shifted from her body to her mind as Sharo’s spirit breached her boundaries. She tumbled after him, a freefall without ground or purchase in view. Sharo was everywhere, flowing like acid through her soul. His gaze scoured her memories, paging through them like the leaves of a book.

She tried to fight back. Forming her spirit into as hard and sharp a form as she could, she struck at him. But she was too weak, too frail after her injuries and internment. She could not harm the lyshan lord, much less expel him.

Sharo left as abruptly as he entered. Rousing back to her body, Leiyn was glad for its pain. It anchored her in the world, in reality. A place where he could only hurt her in body and not in soul.

Leiyn wrapped her arms around herself, hating how she shivered.

“Yes,” Sharo said, gaze grown distant. “We thought as much. This is…troubling. We cannot have disobedient servants, can we?”

Those glinting eyes squinted with amusement. Almost, it was as if he included her in a jape. She looked away. To meet his gaze could provoke another intrusion. She would avoid that at all costs.

Even the loss of her pride.

Sharo laughed, a cutting sound in the stillness of the crypt. “Have we have already broken the mighty Tideraiser? The Wilds Witch our servants so fear? Our sister’s cherished Awakener? The first titan caller to return in defense of mortalkind?”

That coal within her, ever ready to ignite, sparked into flame again. Leiyn glared up at him, hiding her hurt and fear behind anger.

It was a feeble fire, and Sharo knew it. The lyshan lord smiled again, extinguishing her defiance.

“No,” he murmured. “We thought not. But you must know, Oldsoul, that spirit is what keeps you here. It is you who cages yourself, not us.”

Leiyn would have laughed, but every shred of amusement had evaporated from her. Only pain and fear were left in its wake.

“What do you want?” she whispered.

A part of her already knew. Yet she looked up at Sharo, expectant, hoping to be proven wrong.

“What do we want?” His voice was equal parts honey and poison. As Sharo stepped closer, Leiyn flinched. She could not help it. Even when she told herself she was not afraid, her body knew the truth.

Those glimmering eyes saw all. Creased at the corners, the lyshan lord bent over her and extended a clawed hand toward her face. Leiyn longed to lash at him. At her full strength, his near proximity might have allowed her to deal him a dire wound. Now, she could not even scratch him. Only squirm away, desperate to avoid his touch.

Sharo let her flee, his cruel smile widening. “Our desire costs us nothing to admit. We wish you to join us willingly, Oldsoul. Join your spirit to ours. Become part of the multitude we contain. Do so, and you shall suffer no longer.” He opened his hand, one lithe claw after another. “The keys are in your hands. Will you free yourself of your chains? Or cage yourself in impotent rebellion?”

The wise thing would have been to hold her tongue. Do nothing to provoke him. Tuck away this scrap of information and hope it could be turned against him later.

Instead, she forced herself upright, ignoring the shrieks from her wounds and black tears through her spirit. She stood on her feet before her enemy and met him eye to eye.

“No rebellion is pointless,” she rasped. “I’ll always defy you, Sharo. To death and beyond.”

Once more, the lyshan lord laughed. Turning his back on her, unconcerned of retaliation, he strode from her small chamber. Only as he reached the entrance to the alcove did he speak over his shoulder.

“You assume we will allow you to die.”

With the next stride, he vanished, stepping through an unseen grotto. Leaving only chill air in his wake.