Page 49 of Antiletum
But Ifeelthe surge of my magic, wild and uncontrolled in my excited state. It condenses in my hand holding the mirror, traveling into the handle with such force that the reflective glass shivers in its frame.
“Rainah.” A distorted death rattle is my voice, necromancy calling her spirit forth.
A bite of pain gnaws at my cheek, spreading quickly.
Fuck!I misread the use of theantiletumpills. At the same moment, an Ellden clock on the wall creaks backwards. As does the gargantuan Ellden clock tower in the center of the city, visible from this room. There’s no time to ruminate about the disruption, about what I’ll have to do to stop the necrosis spreading rapidly across my face with this burst of raw, unchecked power.
My sister’s image fizzles to life across the mirror, not quite corporeal, but real nonetheless.
“Rainah!” I cry in my normal voice, tears pooling in my eyes. Longing, fierce and cruel, locks around my throat.
“Delaney.” She’s nothing but an echo. A wisp of wind fighting to make sound. Distant and never to be touched again.
“You have to tell me. Right now.” I don’t have it in me to elaborate my request, the flesh of my cheek rotting away faster. It’s hard to talk. Air cuts at the wound, slicing it with agonizing swipes.
Rainah is silent for a moment, studying me with worry. Then, without a word, her opaque hand reaches for her side of the mirror—places it against the surface. As if she could fight through the glass veil separating life and death to come across the other side.
If her body wasn’t rotten in the ground, I would have made her do just that.
But instead of coming through, there’s a distorted ripple, and a new image appears on the mirror.
Valledyn. In a room I’m unfamiliar with.
I gasp. Nearly drop the mirror.
His face is determined, manic, almost regretful. But not quite.
From beyond, Rainah’s clairvoyance is once again reaching for me. Showing me one of her memories rather than trying to verbally explain.
“It didn’t have to be like this, Rainah.” The shadowy echo of Val’s voice is difficult to parse. Not exactly cold, but more disconnected. “You could have told me the truth. And it wouldn’t have to be like this.”
“Wait!” Rainah’s terror is nothing more than a squeak.
He doesn’t oblige. With teeth gritted, the black of his eyes seeming to spread, Val lunges. Faster than I can realistically comprehend. There’s something in his hands. Long and thin, wrapped around his fingers and stretching tight.
Rainah’s vantage point changes—jostled around quickly. So much so that for a moment, I think I amdropping the mirror. But it’s still steady in my hand. She barely releases a panicked yelp before her voice is cut off on a strangled gurgle, Val no longer in view.
Strangled.
Because Val is strangling her from behind. That was a ligature he was holding. Horror eats its way through me. Owning me. Locking all my joints in place until I can’t move. Mouth hung wide open on a silent scream, my voice refuses to build and emit.
Over Rainah’s thrashing still emitting from the mirror, I just barely hear my husband, an echoing call from the past. He speaks over the sounds of him murdering my fighting sister, the edges of her vision turning black. “It didn’t have to be this way.” More dread hammers into me at the sound of his voice.
His voice.
His voice is what breaks my paralyzation. The mirror slips from my fingers, cramped with how tightly I grasped it, and it shatters on the floor. Because it wasn’t Val speaking through Rainah’s memory that broke me from my spell. That low, commanding rumble comes from right behind me. Clear and present. Uttering my name.
“Delaney.” So soft. Unhurried. Unconcerned.
Swiveling to the source, my husband walks from his bathing chamber, hair soaking wet, wearing a tight black shirt and loose black pants. Comfortable. Imposing.Monumental.
What a fool I am. His boots in the alcove weren’t a spare pair. He was here the whole time.
With a hand covering my cheek, the hole of my price has now eaten fully through flesh, exposing my teeth in a way that only the desiccation of death should do. Val takes in the spill ofantiletumpills across his discarded sketch pad atop the bed. The gaping wound in my cheek.
“You’re supposed to crush it. Between your teeth.” Val’s nonchalance throws me. He shows me his teeth, bites down. Miming what I should have done with the caplet.
“Wh-what?” I stutter, sweat collecting rapidly at my hairline, beneath my arms. I’m so overtaken by fear, betrayal, and sheer disbelief the wordrationalisn’t even an existing part of my vocabulary. I should be running. Screaming. Fighting.Something.
