Page 284 of Cursed Evermore
This fucked-up corruption was the Soul Weaver’s first gift to his visitors—a warning to stay away.
I hardly wanted to breathe. To breathe was to invite his corruption into my lungs.
We pressed deeper into the cavern, following the path until it curved ahead.
The skeletal mosaics continued along the walls. I tried not to look too closely at the smaller bones mixed among the adult remains. Some things were better left unexamined.
Alaric moved ahead, while Bastian brought up the rear, constantly checking over his shoulder. The runes carved into the stone seemed to shift in my peripheral vision, though when I looked directly at them, they remained still.
Then we heard a strange sound. Like breaking glass mixed with the snap of dry twigs. It echoed from somewhere ahead of us, a rhythmic clicking that bounced off the cavern walls, making it impossible to pinpoint the source.
We froze. I strained to listen, my nerves on edge, my thoughts like lead.
The sound came again, closer this time, raising the hair on the back of my neck.
Click-click-click.
"What the fuck is that?" Bastian whispered.
The clicking continued, as if it were taunting us. Fucking with our minds.
Click-click-click.
Then it stopped. And there was silence. Not the silence you find in an empty room. The kind before war begins and blood pours from the sky.
From the deepest shadows, a cloaked figure emerged, and we stopped in our tracks. The figure walked toward us taking measured steps that left no sound.
The moment it stepped into the amber glow, I knew it was him. The Soul Weaver.
I wasn’t surprised by his hideous appearance. He appeared almost human, if you could ignore the pallor of his skin and the way darkness clung to his robes. It was different from my shadows. Mine weren’t evil.
The Soul Weaver’s bald head was marked with golden studs that created an unsettling pattern across his skull. Deep bruises ringed his black, sunken eyes, while his gaunt features gave him the look of someone who had fed on death for far too long.
In his hands, he carried a staff. Not wooden like the ones used by most wizards. This one was made of bones with flecks of skin.
"Welcome." He smiled, revealing rows and rows of sharp jagged teeth and a forked tongue like a serpent’s. "I've been expecting you and your Bloodsworn, Lord Nightblade." His gravelly voice echoed around us like thunder.
“Have you now?” I stepped forward.
He laughed at me as if I was some weak thing. “Indeed. I should tell you that you are out of your league and you shouldwalk back through that door and go home. But I doubt you’ll listen to me.”
The fury burning inside my soul flared. “You’re right. I’m not going to listen. But you’re going to give me answers.”
"Is that so, Lord Nightblade?"
"Who are you working for? And cut the shit. If you were expecting me, you know I know about Kyphuus."
More laughter rumbled from his chest. "Of course. I wouldn't be the renowned Soul Weaver if I weren’t aware of such a basic thing."
Basic thing.Motherfucker. I'd seen some terrible things in my lifetime, but the despicable image of those dead Fae's mutilated bodies was by far the worst. "Tell me who you're working for. Or you're dead."
"A threat. I like that. You definitely have some spark, boy. Just like your father. Let’s see if you fight like him, too.”
Before I could respond, his form began to shift and writhe. His robes dissolved into shadow that clung to his changing flesh like liquid darkness. The golden studs on his skull started to glow with the same malevolent green light as the one that pulsed around the doorway.
His bones began cracking and reshaping with wet, grinding, sickly sounds. Then his pale skin rippled and stretched, taking on a mottled, scaled texture. The bruised hollows around his eyes deepened and spread until his entire face began to elongate, the jaw unhinging with a sickening pop. His human features turned inside out, flesh folding and reforming into something predatory and animalistic.
My breath stilled as the transformation accelerated. His spine extended with audible snaps, vertebrae multiplying as his body grew longer and more serpentine.
