Page 87 of His Darkest Desire

Within the illusionary shadows masking the magus’s face, his lips were curled in a small, wistful smile. He had already decided.

And that the decision could never be unmade.

Nothingness reclaimed Vex. He floated through it, distraught, exhausted but unable to sleep, parched but unable to drink, hungry but unable to eat. Only Kinsley’s little touches broke his suffering. Only her softly spoken words eased his torment. Those words, those touches, all just for him, came from a world he could not reach, could not navigate, could not see.

From a world he would fight to return to until he ceased to exist.

He felt soothing warmth on his brow, and a hint of moisture. Kinsley was speaking to him again, dabbing a warm, wet cloth on his face. Caring for him.

What have I done to deserve this? To deserve her?

It mattered not. He would do everything in his power to keep her.

Her voice and touch soon escaped his awareness again. Still, he could not cling to her, could not grasp her presence and draw himself back to her. For all the power he wielded, he was utterly helpless. Utterly useless.

Just as when the seelie swept through my home. When they slaughtered my kith and kin.

Vex squeezed his eyes shut. Or mayhap they’d been shut all along? He could not tell. The darkness behind his eyelids was the same as that surrounding him—boundless, inescapable, familiar.

But it wasn’t empty. It had never been empty, not truly. Kinsley was still there. She wasn’t touching him, but she was close, and her presence was unmistakable. His soul recognized it, reached for it, called to it, yearned for it. For her.

Still, she remained out of his grasp. Though he felt her presence, she was not in this darkness with him, and that was for the best. She deserved so much better than this.

Sound tickled at his ear. It was faint, as though carried on the wind over a great distance—like so many of the sounds in this void. But as he focused, it took shape. Not just one sound but several layered together to form a greater whole.

Music played on drums, pipes, and lyres. He’d not heard its like in…in centuries.

Vex opened his eyes to find himself looking through the same tower window as before. The reflections of moon and stars shimmered upon the loch as though restless to escape the temporary bounds in which they’d been caught. The forest and hills were lush with summer growth, the wildflowers pale beneath the night sky.

But instead of campfires and tents, buildings of stone and wood were nestled amongst the trees and along the shore, with large awnings of hide and canvas sheltering much of the space between. Cookfires glowed here and there, but their light could not compare to the multihued glows of the many candles and faery lights the goblins had hung in their settlement, which were complimented by dozens of wisps flitting about between the structures.

A great many goblinfolk had gathered in the center of the new village, where they danced to music that Vex could only just hear from his tower.

He’d long appreciated the songs of his forest—melodies of wood and root, of wind through leaves and water lapping the land, of birds and beasts, of life. This music was different. It hailed from a past nearly forgotten, from ancient days when a child called Reed had run and played with his clanmates, exploring rugged highland glens, climbing the tallest hills, and wandering the darkest woods they’d dared to enter.

It hailed from a past that had been burned away by fire and gold.

In the vague reflections on the window, Vex did not see himself. There was only the robed magus, his red eyes aglow, and the indistinct blue flames of three wisps hovering around him.

“They are a distraction. Naught more,” the magus said in a low voice.

Vex’s chest ached. He did not know if it was an imagined pain or one from his body, wherever it lay in that moment.

A distraction, yes. But so much more. A reminder.

A failure in waiting.

“This one would join the festivities,” Flare said from behind Vex.

“As would this one,” added Echo.

The magus waved dismissively. “I’ll not deny you your revelry. But I’ve other matters to attend this night.”

With delighted little trills, the two wisps darted away.

“You need not tarry,” the magus said.

“This one simply wishes to admire the view a moment longer,” Shade replied.

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