Page 124 of The Dryad Storm

Death Fae Dream

Tierney Calix

Northern Vo River

Something dangerous is happening to Viger.

Jagged unease kindles along every one of Tierney’s nerves. She glances up, just above their Vo shielding at the purple moon Or’myr conjured, full night descending. Her fingers wrap around the necklace vial containing her dissolved kelpies as her gaze slides back down toward the warded dome-shield she and her fellow Vo Guardians conjured. It envelopes the Vo River and its bracketing Forest, the shield’s translucent surface and its scattered runes shimmering a faint purple from the sheer might of Or’myr’s geomancy.

Tierney draws in a long breath, her unease mounting as she recalls how Viger slashed through the Shadow soldiers earlier, merciless as a viper. And then, after it was all over, how strangely agitated his power seemed to grow when they sensed the Great Tree III’s destruction, the edges of Viger’s Darkness feeling oddly wild and unmoored.

As night began to close in, Viger’s magic surged to frighteningly potent heights, culminating in the full-Dark look he gave her—a look so chillingly violent it froze her in her tracks. Overcome by a terrifying sense of his Death thrall roaring toward her in an unfightable onslaught, she stepped back from him, alarmed, just as he managed to wrest hold of his power and yank it back from her before abruptly disappearing in a slash of dark mist, his thrall vanishing with him, his vaporous form darting into the Forest’s nighttime hollows.

But Tierney can still sense Viger’s Dark bond to her power—a bond linked to Or’myr and Fyordin as well—a thickening, night-deep longing stretching between all four of them, like a Dark tempest brewing.

More unsettling still, Tierney is increasingly aware of Viger’s bond drawing her power down toward the River’s deepest, darkest recesses, mysterious places of cruel endings and fragile beginnings, their Xishlon kiss seeming to have awoken something primal within her.

Tierney’s troubled gaze slides back to the violet Xishlon moon replica Or’myr defiantly hung above the Vo. An edge of her stress softens as she basks in the moon’s purple glow, feeling, for a moment, like she’s being suffused with the calming thrall of therealXishlon moon, the unbidden urge to go to Or’myr and Fyordin and even dangerous Viger and pull each of them into a kiss abruptly surging.

Holy gods.Tierney stiffens against the scandalous bond-fueled urge, a flush blooming on her cheeks.Get hold of yourself, Asrai!

She glances sidelong at Or’myr, struggling to keep her thoughts from veering toward the first thrilling moments of the Xishlon kiss she shared with him before his purple lightning struck and everything went to all the hells.

He’s standing a few paces away, facing a sizable stone hillock edging the riverbank that they’re using as their Vo-shielding’s central runic anchor point. Or’myr’s arresting expression is tenacious as he casts bright violet runes onto the stone wall.

Tierney mulls over how Or’myr has taken charge of fortifying the Vo River’s runic shielding, methodically setting up this area as a base for it, drawing on not only Tierney’s, Fyordin’s, and Viger’s powers through their binding, but on the veins of purple running through the riverbank’s stone. A line of Tierney’s water power steadily courses toward Or’myr’s runes and into the dome-shield, a shield she and Fyordin spent hours helping Or’myr fortify, and now she feels tapped out, exhaustion weighing her down like a leaden anchor. She considers striding into her Vo, curling up at its bottom and falling asleep in its arms, letting the gentle lap of the Waters restore her.

No, she realizes, her Asrai heart tightening. Tonight, she, Or’myr, and Fyordin were the ones doing the restoring. And Viger, too, before he took his frighteningly unhinged turn.

She glances out over the Vo and takes in Viger’s Deathkin power, rising in dark, snaking tendrils from the contained section of Shadowed water, the water slowly taking on a purple coloration as it sheds the gray poison. Worry digs its claws into Tierney—if it took such a monumental effort to battle such a small section of Shadow, how can they possibly prevail against Vogel’s full might?

As if sensing her tortured churn of emotion, Fyordin meets her gaze from where he’s standing waist-deep in the Vo. His palms are resting on the water’s surface as hefeeds healing Asrai energy toward the Shadowed water from his depleted reserves, joining his magic to Viger’s power to hasten the decomposition of the Shadow-killed river life.

Bringing Balance back to their Vo.

A wave of appreciation for her Asrai’kin eddies through her as she notes the way Fyordin’s skin, like hers, is such a mirror of the Vo’s water, both of them currently night dark and suffused with swirls of Or’myr’s dark purple, Fyordin’s hair and hers the same night-plum hue.

Fyordin holds her gaze, a flash of mutual fear for their kindred River roiling through their Vo bond. Fyordin’s water power streams out to encircle hers in a bolstering caress, and Tierney lets herself melt into it, Fyordin’s magical embrace rapidly whirlpooling into a heated longing that Tierney feels she could easily let herself funnel down into...

Or’myr’s purple lightning shocks through the Deathbond with crackling, covetous energy, and Tierney stiffens at the sensation. Flustered, she glances at Or’myr and catches the unsettled lightning flashing through his gaze just as Viger’s Darkness rushes in like a storm making landfall and crashes venomously against both Or’myr’s lightning and Fyordin’s whirlpooling caress with shockingly potent strength.

Tierney’s temper flares, hard and hot—the strength of Viger’s attack alarming, like he wants to sink his teeth into their power. Her hackles bristling, Tierney winds up her own storming power, tempest-tight, grits her teeth, and blasts it out against Viger’s invading thrall.

A serpentine hiss shudders through her mind, the scene around her pulsing blacker than night. Viger’s attack consolidates, a barrier of dark, gnashing fangs forming around the bond, keeping Or’myr’s and Fyordin’s powers at bay.

“Do you feel what’s happening?” Tierney asks Or’myr, both alarmed and incensed.

Or’myr casts a glance at her, his eyes flashing dangerously. “It’s a bit hard to miss.”

Fyordin curses, glaring at them both before blasting out a powerful rush of his invisible water magic to crash against Viger’s hold on their bond, Viger’s biting Darkness outrageously entrenched.

“Your Death Fae is getting territorial,” Or’myr comments, his tone wry, but the lightning flashing through his eyes spits fire. “He’s lucky he has a skill set we currently need.”

Or’myr’s power surges, crackling through their bond to forcibly shift Viger’sbiting Darkness to purple. A tingle courses over Tierney’s skin, but within the span of a breath, Viger’s Darkness bites back down.

“I think he might be stronger than all of us,” Tierney warns.

Or’myr’s aura gives a hot, purple flare. “You underestimate me.”

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