Page 102 of Of Blood & Stone

Serpentums

Sylzenya had grown up learning about Lhaal Forest, had stared at its crooked treeline from the temple’s balcony, its black shadow an ever-hanging presence surrounding her kingdom. She’d read books about its monsters, listened to Dynameis discuss their adventures in harrowing details.

And yet, nothing could’ve prepared her for this.

Three giant serpentums emerged from the yawning cave, each of their body’s thicker than ancient oak trunks. Their length was beyond anything she’d witnessed—a never-ending tube of white iridescent scales. Black tongues licked the air and clouded eyes glowed yellow.

They were slow. Poised.

Sylzenya had read enough to know these creatures were cunning, severe, and most importantly, the hardest to kill. Even a sword with orodyte serum struggled to slice through their scales.

And they were moving straight towards the Dynameis.

And Elnok.

Damn that man.Damn him to hell. She was a protector of people, not a destroyer—not a killer. And yet, she’d been unknowingly killing people on the other side of the forest forten long years. Crops had been stolen under her power, rivers drained, people made sick.

She knew what had to be done: let Elnok fight for his life while she continued her journey to the tree. Druenia had lost enough from her.

Easy decision.

And yet…

“Elnok Rogdul,” she yelled, falling to her knees, “I hate you.”

One palm pressed firmly into the dry forest soil, Sylzenya concentrated on her goddess’ power. She turned her other palm turned up towards the tree tops. Digging deep into her veins, she remembered how it had felt when she touched her willow, how her goddess’ heartbeat had thrummed through every crevice in her body.

Thump.

Thump.

Thump.

Bright gold water flowing through her body. Power shocking every nerve until it woke. Vision sharpening.

The orodyte serum:Aretta’s power.

No, it was more than her power… it was Aretta’s blood. She could sense it now, the way it flowed under her skin. Gold light peeled out from her opened palm, spinning itself around her arm like a powerful thread. With a tilt of her head, she sent it into the ground.

But then her mind ruptured.

Instead of light, all she could see was darkness as black as the liquid she’d poured into her cut.

Her goddess’ heartbeat ceased.

Sylzenya,a chilled voice whispered,have my monsters finally arrived?

A deep cold slipped in between her bones, freezing her to the earth.

Distrathrus’ voice wound in and out of her head then in between her muscles. She fought against the cold, urging Aretta’s blood, warm enough to thaw the thickest of ice caps, through—but it was more than cold and heat. A barrier had been erected between her and Aretta’s power.

Your power has never been your own.And now, my blood flows through you. Without my permission, it will remain dormant, trapped behind my blood.

“Bastard,” she breathed.

She tried clawing through the barrier within her, scratching at the hard surface, desperate to unite with her goddess’ thrumming heart. But it was impossible, Distrathrus’ presence hovering over her like a thick fog, deafening her ears.

It was as if she’d never escaped him.

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