Page 154 of Kingdom of the Two Moons

Then I pivot on my heels and run.

I sprint towards a tiny alleyway, praying that it’s too narrow for their wings. It saved me once.

But a moment later talons dig into my arm, shredding skin. A scream rips from me as I’m hurtled to the ground again, one of the Nefarians on me. I draw Riven’s dagger and aim for his neck, the only part, save for his hands and head, that isn’t covered in hard, scaly armor.

But before the blade can find his skin, he starts to scream, the sound unlike anything I’ve ever heard before.

He lets go of me, stumbling back, spasming, his face torn in horror as every bone in his body seems to break into tiny pieces… and then even tinier ones.

He falls to his knees, then slumps headfirst into the sand in front of me, his screams subsiding to a strange kind of howling.

A shadow falls over me, and I know he’s here long before I manage to draw my eyes to him. Before I hear his growl, so visceral, so deep it roils in my bones, shakes my soul. “She. Is. Mine.”

Even the Nefarian’s howls fall silent at that. Not because he’s dead, but because of the effect of Caryan’s voice. At the pure hatred that drips from him. At the primal dominance and aggression.

Restless shadows twine around the buildings, hissing and snarling, coming in a never-ending river off his shoulders and gathering, denser and denser around us until the air is so tight it is hard to breathe.

“I’m going to kill your companions, but you—I’m not yet donewith you.” Caryan’s growl gives way to a silent coldness, one that is more frightening than anything he could have done.

Eventually, I look up to him, his eyes black as his shadows, which reach out and lift up the Nefarian. His head lolls, his whole body a wobbly mass, and I realize he has been fragmented from the inside. He moans in pain at being moved, a sound animalistic and foreign and guttural.

“Oh no, you will not faint. I will not allow that. You will feel this until I decide to let you drift into oblivion for touching her like that,” Caryan says. “But before that, I’m going to heal you and do what I just did over and over again.”

Gods, help me, but I’ve never been more afraid of him than now.

I gasp as the shadows around the Nefarian grow tighter, squeezing his already shattered insides. The Nefarian’s eyes roll to me, silently begging me to help him. I’m too shocked to make a sound.

Caryan’s gaze eventually settles on me.

I have the good sense not to pull away this time when he reaches for my arm. It’s bleeding, the laceration deeper than I thought. I barely feel it though.

My heart stumbles when I glance back at his face. If I thought Caryan couldn’t get any angrier, I was wrong. There’s pure death in his eyes as he takes in my wounds.

“Stretch out your arm,” he orders in a voice bereft of anything. It’s like an abyss. Endless and black.

I do as he says, and he brings his wrist to his teeth, slicing his whole artery along the length, his blood gushing out. He drips it over my mangled flesh and I clench my teeth as the deep wounds start to knit back together.

“Riven,” I whisper, trying hard to block out the groans of the Nefarian, still writhing in the grip of Caryan’s shadows. I think I’m going to be sick right here. “He… Please, we need to look for him,” I squeeze out. It takes all I have left to look into Caryan’s eyes again.

“He is alive,” Caryan says.

Alive.I allow myself to breathe again.

“Move,” Caryan orders me, and I do, fighting hard to ignore the sounds of the tortured Nefarian behind us as I try to keep up with Caryan’s pace.

When we step out of the seclusion of the alleyway, I no longer recognize the place. All fae have retreated further to the shadows as if they might blend into them. Fear is palpable, as if the very air and the wind consist of it. But in the middle of the place, Caryan’s magic is wavering in a churning, black circle, keeping the fae out and the Nefarians in.

I briefly hesitate as we reach it, the whirling dark, bristling magic swirling up into the air before me like a wall of black smoke, streaked with chained lightning.

Caryan glances at me and, somehow, this suddenly feels like a test.

I will not be afraid.

With a deep breath, I step through. The magic bites me, but it doesn’t shatter me, doesn’t burn me to ashes as I’m sure it would most others foolish enough to try.

The two remaining Nefarians kneel on the ground, the sight so similar to the fauns last night it quickly robs my breath. Two men, the woman with Riven’s eyes in the middle. They are flanked by Ronin and Kyrith. In a group behind them, I spot the priestess, Sarynx, and a few other fae I recognize from the celebrations at the Fortress.

I nearly cry when I see Riven walking through that circle. His wings are gone, so are the arrows, his armor is torn in parts, but he’s alive and breathing… no longer bleeding. His eyes lock on mine for a second before he looks at Caryan.

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