‘Survive?’ The boy frowned. ‘Is something trying to hurt us?’
Annev looked up at the purple sky, the first stars beginning to appear. ‘That’s what I mean to find out.’
Epilogue
Oyru stared into the darkness, his eyes piercing the layers of rock far below the earth’s surface. He no longer required light to see – he had once, but that was another time, another life. Now, Oyru could open his eyes and stare straight into the shadow realm. Physical things like earth and rock became cloudy and insubstantial, as if looking through a dirty glass window.
At the moment, Oyru’s attention was on two bright points of light within the shadow. Both were close, less than a hundred yards away, and both represented the souls of young, healthy people in pain. For Oyru, a pure soul in exquisite agony was the brightest and most attractive kind of light … and it could be moulded into so many things; it was like a soft ball of clay, begging to be shaped into something … more powerful.
The pain was useful, too. It made the sufferer more pliable, and the process of moulding that light was one of the few things that still interested the assassin. As a half-shadow, he had no real physical appetites – no hunger or thirst, no anger or lust – but moulding bright white lights into sharp black knives … that excited him.
Oyru crept through the narrow passages of the earth, moving towards the two lights. As he walked, his feet and legs sloshed through water that never wet his skin or dampened his clothes. He swam through soft mud, pushed through loose rock, and when he was halted by a solid stone wall, he slipped into the shadow realm and forced himself through the obstacle. It wasn’t an easy task, nor was it comfortable – he was, after all, still half human – but here, as in all places, the darkness aided him.
Oyru emerged from the wall to stand between the two lights. The one on the left was farther away and not quite as bright as that on the right, but it had something special about it: two tiny sparks of rainbow-hued light that shifted and changed when the figure moved. The novelty piqued the assassin’s curiosity. He considered following it, even took a step in that direction, but then Oyru remembered the Vessel – the boy with one arm who had driven him into the well: he had also had a strange light surrounding him – the taint of aqlumera – and he had beaten Oyru.
The assassin turned his attention to the brighter, sweeter light – that of a woman being tortured by feurog. The three monsters stood near a trickle of aqlumera, their attention shifting between it and the girl’s face. The woman was screaming, yet her physical pain was less than the emotional torture she felt.
Her agony called to him.
The assassin concentrated, making his form more ethereal than real, then dived into the rock wall on his right. His movement slowed, as it always did when he entered the shadow realm, and then his body burst free of the rock. He stood inside a new tunnel and could clearly hear her screams echoing across the stone. Screams for help, for mercy, for retribution.
Oyru ran in her direction, summoning his twin flyssas as he went. He turned a corner in the twisting passage, saw a faint light ahead, and ran onward, following a sharp turn in the rock – and stopped at what he saw.
The young woman sat atop one of the monsters, smashing its skull with a rock. The other two feurog circled, wary of this dangerous woman. The nearest one approached, its scythe-like arms reaching for the girl’s back. Oyru considered intercepting it, but decided to wait and watch.
Just as the metal blade came whirring for the girl’s exposed back she twisted, grappled the feurog’s arm, and shoved its own scythe straight up into its brain. The beast screeched, a harsh metallic note rising from its throat, and fell dead.
The last feurog wailed at the sight of its companion and fled into the dark passageway. Oyru watched it go then looked at the young woman standing between the two dead monsters: beautiful, mottled red scars covered the right side of her face; her dark auburn hair curled in gentle waves until it kissed her shoulders; her lips were pink and plump, her eyes a startling pale green.
She saw Oyru’s shadowy figure and roared, dropping to the floor as she searched for a weapon. She grabbed her rock and hurled it at the assassin.
As it passed through Oyru and clattered down the tunnel, the girl dropped to her knees and wailed in frustration and pain. Oyru studied her torn clothes and bloodied hands and knees. The injuries were surprisingly light, and Oyru quickly saw why: the feurog had been pouring aqlumera on her injuries.
Oyru cupped her chin in his hand and her eyes went wide with terror. The white light surrounding her grew brighter, her fear and anxiety heightened as he turned her face to the side and examined her scars: in the pockets of her burned flesh, beads of gold metal reflected the rainbow-hued light that trickled down from the ceiling. As Oyru watched, the gold liquid began to bubble, re-forming itself to match the structure of the girl’s cheekbone. At the same time, her flesh began to stretch and smoke, fusing with the gold. Oyru stared, transfixed, as her face repaired itself.
Beautiful.
After a few seconds, the rainbow light diminished and then disappeared, leaving bright bands of gold embedded in her otherwise flawless skin, matching similar bands of gold marking across her flesh.
Exquisite.
Oyru released her and one hand flew to her formerly scarred face. When her fingers touched the metal ribbons streaking the right side of her face, she screamed. Oyru watched as her bright light reached an intensity he had never seen before. The darkness around her deepened and he sensed her anguish, felt it building up inside her, seeking a release while she sobbed angry words.
She tilted her head back with a wail of indescribable pain as Oyru observed each shard of her agony: abandonment, betrayal, loathing, self-loathing, hate, anger, frustration, rage, sorrow, sadness, self-pity, and even madness.
She was ready. And Oyru was there.
‘I can take away your pain.’
Though his voice was quiet, it cut through her maddened cries. She choked off her tears, wet rivulets streaming down her face, and looked up at the assassin.
‘What do you want from me?’
‘Everything and nothing,’ the assassin answered. ‘I want your allegiance. In exchange, I will … heal you.’
‘Heal me,’ she said, spitting the word.
Oyru nodded. ‘I see that your heart aches, that you have been betrayed. I sense that your loved ones lied to you and abandoned you.’ The young woman’s lip began to tremble but Oyru pressed on. She had already been broken. Now he only needed to repurpose her.
‘I see that you have been marked by Keos,’ he whispered.