Page 90 of The Shadowed Oracle
There was no answer from the silhouette. Not that she expected one. Her eyes burned and watered, keeping them wide open and locked onto the figure in the dark corner of her room.
Slowly, like a midnight vision in the void of her mind, he stood and moved closer.
All oxygen escaped her.
It couldn’t be real
Hecouldn’t be real.
This was Maradenn. Next to Hydor, it was the most fortified castle in the most impenetrable city in all of Ealis. She was dreaming, she reminded herself. This was all in her mind. All a nightmare. Her mind playing tricks.
This couldn’t have been him.
Even in her dream, Sylan couldn’t be here.
Who are you?she asked. Or thought. Or whatever it was she was doing to communicate with the shadow.
“Have you forgotten me so easily?” the figure said. His voice was so deep and rumbling it sent a rhythm through the air between them, hitting Ingrid square in the chest.
She couldn’t answer. Couldn’t decide if she wanted him to move further into the light, or to disappear. Making up her mind was impossible. She couldn’t string two thoughts together without a third thought pulverizing any semblance of a plan. She was helpless—again.
“No, you remember.” The figure swaggered into view, standing not three feet from Ingrid, leering over her.
Sylan.
It really was him. Or, the memory of him at least. He’d somehow grown since she first saw him. Perched atop that jail cell and praying for the portal to accept them through, she couldn’t fully gauge the bastard prince’s true stature. Seven or eight inches over six feet, taller even than Raidinn. All lean, natural muscle that was needed for the kind of speed he possessed.
He wore a thin black tunic rolled up at the sleeves now, in the stead of the full-body armor she’d seen him in back on Earth. The lack of coverage revealed symbols and images inked into the entirety of his chest, forearms and hands. His hair was slightly disheveled and a little longer. But his eyes… his eyes still possessed that wild animal nature. Fiery gold with an amber ring around the pupil, almost like a viseer stone brimming with untapped power.
How did you find me?Ingrid asked. Even if this wasn’t a dream, only another facet of her power, or a piece of the real Sylan floating in the collective consciousness of Ealis, then she still might learn something from her enemy. Maybe she could foresee something that might help them in this war.
Does your King still have you hunting me?she asked.
“Yes,” Sylan said gruffly. “Finding the Oracle is my only mission. You… are my only destination.”
Ingrid fought the urge to scream.Makkar needs me that badly? Afraid of a little world-walker, is he?
“More than he’ll admit.” Sylan turned his head toward the bookshelf, then looked down at the books on the floor, the flapping pages and bent spines. “The longer you are alive here, finding your power, your way, the more frightened Makkar becomes.”
Obviously.Ingrid tried to convey sarcasm, but fell short.
“I suppose it is, yes.” Sylan moved closer, narrowing his gaze to inspect Ingrid with studious deliberation. “You don’t fear me, do you?”
I’d say yes, but you aren’t real.
The young general held his arms out, clasping his hands and flipping them over to survey his palms. “Am I not?”
No. This is a dream. You are in my head.
“What evidence do you have of this?”
There’s no possible way you could be here. No way you could’ve found me, let alone gotten through Maradenn’s walls.
“Oh, I see.” The night-cloaked image of her enemy bent to one knee, reaching his hand out. “Then you won’t mind if I touch you, Oracle? If I test the theory myself?”
Ingrid might’ve stiffened, recoiled, revolted or even run if she wasn’t still incapable of moving an inch. She could only watch as the nightmare of Sylan teasingly raised a finger, and calmly lowered it until he met the skin of her cheek.
She could feel it. Could feel a sickly plainness in his touch that seemed almost excruciating in the absence of any other sensation.
