Page 122 of Of Blood & Stone

He’d only allowed her tothinkit.

The thief is nearly gone,he whispered into her mind.You’ll thank me one day for such a mercy.

“Don’t you dare touch him,”she shouted.

Distrathrus’ blood pushed further into her body. Yelling, she gripped her head, her back burning and mind throbbing. Kharis stopped spinning his swords, sheathing them as he approached her.

I can’t stand to see you get hurt any longer. Let Kharis bring you home. This fight can be done once and for all.

“Youare not my home,” Sylzenya whimpered.

If not me, then who?

“I-I-” Sylzenya couldn’t find words.

There were none to say, because she had no answer.

Where will you go after you find my sister’s tree? With the thief to heal his friend?

Cold tears fell down her weary face.

You weren’t made for his world. You weren’t made for my sister’s either. You were made for mine,alwaysmine.

Kharis grabbed her throat. Sylzenya struggled, but his strength outmatched hers as he slammed her to the ground. She cried out, dirt and gravel wedging into her open cut, burying into her skin.

Even with Aretta’s blood in her veins, she couldn’t beat them.

She would never be strong enough.

Distrathrus was right. She was his, had been before she’d been dedicated to the temple, and had been since she’d been born on this side of Lhaal Forest. Her destiny had been carved into orodyte. Land scorched, rivers desolate, people dead—she’d done it alongside the other acolytes and Kreenas. No amount of good deeds could change it. Distrathrus had been her master,and she’d trusted him—lovedhim. She’d trusted and loved a monster so much so she let him turn her into one.

Digging into his leather armor, Kharis pulled out a clear glass vial full of black liquid.

Distrathrus’ blood.

“No,”she gasped, ripping at his skin,“Please, don’t do this.Please.”

“It’s going to be alright, Sylzenya.” He popped the vial open. “You’ll feel much better after your body partakes in more of his blood. I promise.”

Struggling against his hold, Sylzenya pushed and clawed, but he wouldn’t budge. Her power had been spent, her head throbbing in pain, her back engulfed in flames, and now, her transformation would be complete.

She’d belong to Distrathrus mind, body, and soul.

Memories flooded through her as Kharis steadied the vial over her cut: the times when her and her father would watch butterflies flutter among the flowers in early spring, her mother’s bright hazel eyes as she taught her how to knead dough and pour wine, and those lazy summer nights when the three of them sat around a fire and stared at the treetops until the sun rose.

Pale green eyes flashed through her vision. Elnok’s touch as he traced her hips with his calloused fingers, his warm breaths caressing her ear, his musky earth and worn leather scent reminding her of home.

A crack in the dark barrier. A thin film of gold power slipped through.

Thump.

Thump.

Quiet and faint, her goddess’ heartbeat slowly swelled.

Kharis’ orodyte glowed brighter and brighter, his fingers digging so deep he drew blood as he started to tip the vial.Thoughts jumbling, heart racing, and throat gasping for air, Sylzenya closed her eyes.

She thought of Elnok’s smile.

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