Abruptly his face blurs. “Get away from Draewulf. Or I swear I will haunt you with every last breath in me.” His words begin to shudder, then slur. “It’s time to let go, Nym. Open your eyes.
“Open them now.”
I’m blasted awake into a darkened airship room and a cold presence hangs over me. It’s so opposite the warmth and color of my dream it takes a minute to recall where I am. When I do, I freeze only to have my soul shatter all over again.
He’s gone.
I look around for Draewulf. To hunt him, to hurt him for what he’s done. Where is he?
The room is lit only by the stars out the windows and the lamp-lights along the rim of the airship’s deck below. Just like the other airships farther out lighting up the night. They twinkle like yellow fireflies—reminding me of the forest back home. My heart pitches. I wince and grit my teeth and, stretching my muscles, feel around the room until I reach the door.
Locked.
I twist, kick, shove against it, but it’s stuck tight. I slump against the wall and beg the darkness to either release or reclaim me, I don’t know. At least until we get there, when I will end all of this.
Because I will end all of this.
“Nym?”
Kel.
“Are you all right?” His small voice carries beneath the door.
“Kel, let me out. Unlock the door.”
A hesitation. “I can’t.”
“What do you mean you can’t? Just open it! Eogan is dangerous and—”
“I know but I can’t. He won’t—he’ll just—” His voice drops so low I can barely hear it. “Do you need anything?”
Oh buddy. “Kel, you need to stay away from Eogan.” My throat tightens even as I say his name. Eogan. I force myself to ignore it. “He’s not safe for you.”
“I know. Are you sad at him, Nym?”
I don’t answer that. I can’t. Unless I want my chest to bleed out.
A scuffle against the door. He curses. “I gotta go. I—”
“Wait, Kel!” But his footsteps are already padding away.
Bleeding litches.
I lean against the door and try to listen through but can’t hear anything further. I turn my head and stare at the dark.
Keep your eyes open, something whispers from the depths of me.
I glance around.
“For what?” I mutter back. Assess your surroundings and finish the plan.
Or what? I’m not sure it matters anymore.
Assess your surroundings and finish the plan, Nym.
Fine. I go to rise. Except that strange heaviness sets in again along with the scent of magic and I pitch over.
And fall back asleep.
Something is ticking and clacking, disturbing my sleep. The spider is beneath my skin, scratching and tapping its claws like fingers on a wall, as blazing daylight strikes my face.
I open my eyes to find Draewulf leaning against the window exactly like Eogan was in my dream. He’s tapping his fingers against the wall, still wearing my trainer’s handsome body like a rumpled suit of victory.
I stand and curl both hands into fists. And bite back the nausea.
He smirks.
Where’s Kel?
Assess your surroundings and finish the plan, Nym.
I gulp. “Where are Rasha and Myles?”
“Under guard with my wraiths.”
“Under guard with your wraiths? Or being turned into wraiths?”
He utters a sound between a chuckle and a sneer. “Does it matter?”
“To the people you’ve made wraiths I imagine it does,” I growl, inching my way toward the tiny window that overlooks the main deck on the opposite side of the room. Through it I can see the airships surrounding us and the area where the soldiers stand side by side with a group of gray-shrouded wraiths that look more ghoul-like than ever. “Tell me, how is it that you do it? Turn them, I mean?”
He smirks. “I kill them and chop up their bones, then fuse them with stronger beasts. They don’t question or challenge, they simply obey. Rather ingenious, don’t you think?”
I hold back the urge to claw his throat out.
Focus, Nym. “Can they feel?” I eye how many ships are around us and try to calculate how many children like Kel are flying them. “The wraiths. Do they know what you’ve done to them?” Did Eogan know in his last dying moments?
He shrugs. “People ultimately embrace being controlled for the sake of safety. It’s a trade-off.”
“A trade-off for death?” I snort and peer at the soldiers on our ship’s deck. Will he turn them too? Has it already begun and they just don’t know it? Perhaps we’re all already being turned and just don’t know it. “Is that what the plague is for—to make them beg for it?”
“The plague is an unfortunate by-product. Experiments in magic can be so . . . unpredictable.”