Page 26 of Trials of Dusk and Dreams
“Stop fooling yourself,” Legion mumbles, retrieving the fallen jar of wisps and turning it over in his hands. “The sooner you fall in line, the better.”
“Perhaps it’s time to step out of line.”
Legion levels his stare on our Sixth, darkness flickering in every corner of the room. “Is that a challenge?”
A pause. “Maybe.”
“Styx,” Emrys warns, “do not test him.”
“Why not? He is impotent, as you all are. Not me. For once, I am—fuck!” Wings erupt from Styx’s back, ripping apart his dark shirt. Dismayed, he glances over his shoulders. “Why is it fucking doing that? Our wings never used to do that!”
“Be thankful it is not your tail.”
“This could happen with my tail?”
“Maybe you instinctively keep it shifted away like your horns and spikes.” Legion slides his fingers beneath his spectacles, rubbing his eyes. “We started bonding with Willow the moment we touched five years ago. We’ve absorbed her ability to shift forms. Fox was the same. Before her, our wings were always out, simply glamoured away.”
“That makes sense,” I cautiously reply, my mind racing to process this new information.
Shifting, as opposed to glamouring, provides numerous tactical advantages. Improved stealth capabilities, easier movement in tight spaces, and better ability to blend in with mortals when necessary. But it also means we’ll need to develop new fighting techniques to compensate for the sudden appearance or disappearance of wings in battle. Kinetic energy from the shift could be useful.
At Styx’s disgruntled concession at the logic, Legion’s eyes fill with patience. “You will all feel confused and conflicted until we break the seals. So you must do as I instruct until we are whole and united again.”
“Don’t we anyway?” Distaste twists Emrys’s lips, but he gives a reluctant nod.
“You know where I stand,” I reply.
“By the door?” Styx snarks.
My fists clenches. “Do you wish to sleep bruised tonight, brother?”
“You’d have to catch me first.”
I take a threatening step toward him. He grins andflickersacross the room to stand by the fireplace. He can outmaneuver me with his seal broken, but inevitably, mine will be too. Fortunately, the fool still recalls how precarious the sixth position is in the hive.
The true meaning of my thoughts slips. I grasp to catch it, but it’s gone. I am left with only a strange sense of guilt and walk backward, creating distance between us until my spine hits the door.
Legion turns to Styx. “Is there anything you recall about how your seal was broken?”
“As I told you before, I last remember feeling like I walked into a trap.”
Legion mutters darkly, “I sent you on a mission—the Interlude had just begun, and like now, rogue Nightmares were surfacing. You were being petulant as always, wanting to go off alone for some reason. Emrys, you broke the news about his punishment for public brawling.”
“Did I?” His dark brows knit.
Legion waves him off. “You won’t remember much. The enchantment keeps sending your memory in circles.”
“I think I would remember something like that.” He scowls, grinding his jaw.
Emrys prides himself on being direct. These clouds in our heads are likely causing him more distress than me.
“There was no brawling.” Styx snarls, “They lied, and you left me there to rot.”
We all look at each other, fear skating down our spines. It feels odd, foreign. Fear has no place in our world except within the hearts of our victims, the wicked souls we feast upon. I roll my shoulders, trying to shake off the unfamiliar sensation.
“We forgot.” Legion’s tone is flat as he studies his hands. “And it is unforgivable.”
Legion’s admission of guilt catches me off guard. For a moment, I see not our unshakeable leader but a vulnerable, flawed being. The urge to step forward, to shield him from the others’ gazes, is almost overwhelming. Instead, I straighten my posture, drawing attention to myself and away from his moment of weakness. The hive needs strength now, not vulnerability.
