Page 18 of Sundered By Fate

Aric nodded silently in agreement, and Olaya turned to the other mages gathered there.

"Thank you all for coming," she said. "I know it's a risk to meet like this. But our mission is too important to abandon now."

As she spoke, Aric felt a sudden chill run down his spine, as if he were being watched from the shadows. He glanced around the room, half-expecting to see Malekith's dark eyes peering out at him from some hidden corner. But there was nothing, only the silent watchfulness of the atelier walls.

The sensation left him unsettled, adding to his growing unease about what they were facing.

Aric and the others nodded, though Aric caught the furtive looks exchanged between Davin and Olaya as the latter bade them farewell.

"I'll do what I can to protect you from Cyrus," Olaya added quietly, her voice wavering slightly. "But you mustn't test his patience further."

Cyrus.

The name alone sent a fresh wave of anger coursing through Aric's veins. The memory of Cyrus's words back at the outpost—all but condemning him to execution for merely daring to study demon magic—was one of the last things he'd expected to have to remember from his old life. It made him wonder if he truly had any place left in this world at all.

"I know," Aric said, struggling to keep the bitterness out of his voice. "I'll stay out of his way as much as I can. But this anomaly—it poses a threat far greater than him, greater than anything we might face from demonkind. I'll do whatever it takes to stop it." He swallowed hard. "Cyrus be damned."

Olaya hesitated, then squeezed his shoulder. "Take care, Aric. We'll speak more tomorrow. There may be more danger ahead."

Aric nodded. "I will."

With that, she turned and headed for the door, and Aric felt the ache of their parting more acutely than he'd expected. He'd missed her—missed all of them—more than he could put into words.

He lingered in the workshop, suddenly aware of Davin's presence at his side. He wanted to say something, anything to fill the awkward silence stretching between them. But no words came, and after a moment Davin turned away with a quiet sigh.

"Take care of yourself, Aric," Davin said quietly before following Olaya outside.

Aric's heart clenched at the concern in Davin's voice—a whisper of something soft and tender beneath the sarcasm and banter that was all too familiar to him. A part of him longed to reach out, to tell Davin everything, but he couldn't risk it.

Not yet.

Not ever.

Instead, he watched as Davin disappeared into the night, leaving Aric feeling even more alone than before.

He trudged up the stairs to the room Virida had offered him again for the time being and sank heavily into bed. His body ached with exhaustion, but his mind was racing too fast for sleep to come. So many questions swirled through his thoughts—about the anomaly, about Malekith and the demon realm—but one question loomed above all others: What was he willing to sacrifice in order to stop it?

The dreamscape was a world of shadows and mist, a formless void that seemed to stretch on forever. Aric drifted through it, his body weightless, his thoughts sluggish and disoriented. Hehad the sense still as if someone was watching, but he couldn't see anything through the swirling fog.

And then, suddenly, Malekith was there, emerging from the darkness with a grace and fluidity that sent a shiver down Aric's spine.

"Aric," Malekith's voice was a low rush, dark and swift as a moonlit stream.

Aric's heart raced as Malekith approached him, his movements fluid and predatory. There was an air of menace about him, but also something else—something softer, more vulnerable. Aric couldn't tear his eyes away from him, even as every instinct screamed at him to flee.

But he couldn't move; the dream held him captive.

"Malekith," Aric breathed. "What are you?—?"

Malekith silenced him with a finger pressed to his lips, and the touch ignited a fire within Aric that sent heat flooding through his veins.

"Shh," Malekith murmured. "No words. Not now."

Aric swallowed hard, his mouth dry. "Why are you here? How did you find me?"

But Malekith didn't answer. Instead, he moved closer, one hand reaching up to caress Aric's face with a gentleness that belied the fierce hunger in his eyes. His thumb brushed over Aric's cheekbone, and Aric's breath caught in his throat.

"You're not real," Aric said, though he wasn't sure if it was meant as a question or a statement. "I saw flashes—images of you imprisoned, you were—No. This isn't real."

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