I glance over my shoulder. Ansar glares at me and holds up his hands. Slowly, deliberately, he plucks one of the red threads, pulling it out.
A low, guttural moan escapes from Aralya’s throat. Her voice is thin and weak, fading to a whisper.
I glance at her in alarm. The hollows of her cheeks have become sunken. Her smooth skin is shrivelling right before my very eyes, becoming desiccated and cracked, like a parched tree.
I need to get her out of here—out of this vile cage, which saps even my energy.
I pull out my dagger and turn, flicking it through the air. It lands in Ansar’s left shoulder.
He lets out a howl, and for a moment, Aralya’s moaning ceases.
Good.
He’s distracted.
I reach up to rip off the dampening irons encircling Aralya’s wrists.
I crush the metal with my hands. Even through my leather gloves, it burns as if I were wrapping my fingers around hot coals.
She collapses into my arms, her body as light as a feather.
I gently lay her on the floor and do the same to the shackles around her ankles, moving as fast as I possibly can. I’m starting to grow weak. I can’t afford to stay in this cursed thing much longer.
It’s staggering to know that Aralya’s had to endure this infernal contraption for years upon years. If I’m feeling this way—head pounding, vision dimming, body sluggish—I can’t imagine how terrible it must be for her.
Gently, I take her into my arms and tear out of the cage; out of the serpenstone-studded cave itself.
I take her into the outer corridor, moving far away from the magical seals and dampeners—until my own vision starts to clear.
We’re in a dark part of the tunnels, where it’s silent and the floor is bare swept earth.
I lay Aralya down. Her face looks weathered. Her body has become worryingly frail. In just a short amount of time, Ansar has drained so much vitality from her.
Her lips are slightly parted.
I bite my own thumb, drawing blood. Then I gently place the pad of my thumb against her lips.
It’s time to wake up. I’ll take you out of here, Aralya.
I can’t help but feel reverence when I look at her preternatural face. She’s the mother of my precious bonded one.
Kaithar and Ciel told me my blood was a gift. They’ve been saying it all along. I was in denial; unwilling to accept what I truly am—until my mother spelled it out for me.
Bless her soul.
Kaith and Ciel were right.
My blood heals.
It’s counterintuitive. Considering that vampires are of the direct line of the Goddess of Death, one might think that shouldn’t be the case.
But my blood breaks seals, and it’s always been able to chase away death.
Suddenly, I understand.
I’m a Child of Hecoa. My ancestors are descended from the Goddess herself. And when I died and went to the underworld, the Goddess of Death gave me a drop of her essence.
But my power isn’t death.
It’s the absence of it.
My blood doesn’t give life. It simply reverses death.
Finley is life itself, and she sustains me.
The ground beneath my feet begins to tremble.
It worked.
Green eyelashes flutter.
Then her eyes snap open, and I’m looking into twin pools of glowing green, and for a moment, her gaze is the most terrifying thing in the world, because it’s filled with wrath, but as she catches sight of me, her eyes soften.
She knows.
“Don’t be afraid,” I say gently.
“Afraid?” Her voice is deep and resonant; inhumanly so, like a chorus of a thousand voices distilled into one. “Why would I be afraid of you, sweet child?”
“You must understand that I’m nothing like the others—the ones that captured and hurt you. And…” I hesitate, unsure whether I should reveal something so vital lest she become protective. “I’m bonded to your daughter. I’m here on her behalf, to set you free and bring you to her.”
“I know.”
“You know?”
She rises to her feet, moving like water; impossibly graceful in spite of her condition. “An ancient tree told me so. Quickly now, child. Take my hands into yours. Be at ease, for I will take care of everything.”
My ears alert me to Ansar’s presence; he’s followed us out of the cage. His footsteps are loud and clumsy. I can smell his pungent blood, seeping from where I impaled him.
“Don’t move, Corvan. Step back right now, or I’ll destroy her.”
I don’t care. I pull off my glove and press my palm against Aralya’s.
He can’t do anything now.
I’ve freed the dryad.
I’m fairly certain she could crush Ansar beneath her foot like an insect if she wished.
As my skin touches hers, a frisson of energy passes between us.
“Don’t you want any more… of my blood?”
“I thank you for your offering, but that won’t be necessary. I don’t need to take your physical essence in order to draw magic from your being. I can just take it through you.” A soft snort of amusement escapes her. “Your people are very good at suppressing and destroying magic, but they know so little about it. It’s as if you’re fumbling in the dark. But never mind. I only ask that you lend me your power.”
Immediately, I trust her. I don’t know why. It’s just an instinct. “Anything.”
“Good. All will be fine now.
Through my hand, she starts to take from me. I don’t know how it’s possible, but I can feel the power leaving my body. Instantly, I become lethargic, but the feeling is pleasurable, not painful.
The glow in her eyes intensifies. Her hair writhes and swirls, tendrils flying around her face.
And as Ansar tries to stab me in the back from behind, Aralya simply turns her arms into thick, swirling vines and wraps them around my half-brother, immobilizing his arms and legs.
A blade clatters to the ground. A hoarse scream escapes him.
The red threads disappear entirely.
“His magic is useless against the true power of Hecoa. In so many ways, there was nobody more fitting than you to free me. I’ve waited so very long for you to come. Corvan Duthriss, my son, be at ease now. You’ve done enough. I’ll take care of the rest.”
And with that, she disentangles her hand from mine and steps away from me, with Ansar still imprisoned in her tentacle-like branches.
She holds him in her arms as the packed earth around her bare feet starts to crack apart, forming a gaping chasm.
Aralya’s verdant hair lifts up with the sheer energy of her magic, forming a wild halo around her face.
I stare at her in disbelief. “Where are you going?”
“Into the earth, of course. To hibernate, and regrow. And to teach this stupid child and his forebears a lesson. Then, I will go find the Baron Solisar, and give him what he deserves. I ask that you allow me to take my revenge on the ones that have wronged me. It’s the only way I’m going to assuage the anger burning inside me. Don’t fret, my son. When I am finished here, I will come and see you and my most beloved daughter. In the springtime. I can’t wait to meet my child again, and I’m so very pleased she’s found you.”
I stare at her in disbelief. Did Finley’s mother just give me her blessing?