Page 148 of Blood of Ancients

I did not know if I ever managed to touch the Runesphere.

One minute, the world was spinning, bright and luminescent, eerie and powerful.

The next, I was . . . screaming.

Pain wrenched through me. A hissing, buzzing sound filled the room. I felt shapes around me then, looming, protective, scared for me.

Doubling over, I clutched at my belly, mouth wide in a shout of pain and confusion. Pressure built, knotting inside me, and then reached to the far corners of my limbs, until my toes and fingers and the very hair on my head felt electric and combustible.

My spirit shattered from the wave of magic that rolled over me, blackening my vision for a split second—

And then there was the sound of ripping flesh.

My scream became tortured, cracking my voice just as something broke my skin.

The pain. It was coming from myback.

A sob wrenched through me, tears spilling down my shut eyes, past the wrinkles of my twisted face as I hugged myself to try and hold on to whatever sanity I could.

The strange ripping sound molded into agony of its own, as if my bones were rearranging and moving in my body, under my skin.

I was not sure how long I screamed, or how long it hurt.

I only knew that afterward, there was complete silence in the room. Darkness, as the magic of the Runesphere faded once the glass fell over it once more. Only a dim blue light from the wall lanterns, and me, on my knees, leaning with my forehead to the floor.

I felt . . .heavy.

Something was weighing me down, and it wasn’t my damned spirit. It was something tangible,real.

I finally opened my eyes, wheezing in a shallow breath, my heart hammering in my chest. Slowly, I lifted my face—

To find my four mates staring at me. Aghast. Blanched faces, the lot of them, eyes huge in their heads.

“B-Boys?” I croaked. “What’s . . . what’s wrong?”

“Holy shit, Vini,” Arne croaked first. He pointed at me like I was a circus freak. The silver-tongued iceshaper didn’t have the words to explain.

Corym made a strange gesture over his body, perhaps the elven version of praying. It seemed spiritual, if not bordering on religious.

Then he kneeled.

Slowly, when I started to stand, I struggled.

Grim and Sven rushed to my aid, breaking rank.

I put a hand out, determined to get up on my own.

“Check yourself out, little menace,” the wolf shifter whispered. He pointed, like Arne,pastme.

That’s when I turned—

And discoveredwingshad sprouted from my back. My shadow was larger than before. The heaviness I’d felt, the feeling that something was different, wrong, and that my body had changed—it was all true.

The wings were dripping with fluids and blood from where they’d torn free from my shoulder blades, like a newborn. I didn’t know how to lift them. They stayed slumped behind me, closed. I could see the bright amber-hued scales in the dim blue light—black scales that glittered different muted colors when the light hit them.

Consumed by nerves, I screamed. It ripped from my throat on its own, no thoughts to control it.

Then Grim and Sven were beside me, helping me stay standing while my knees buckled and I nearly toppled over.

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