Dawn of Ash (29 page)

My muscles tight as I leaned forward, wishing there was a way I could be closer to them, connect with them, guide them through whatever was about to happen.

Nevertheless, I was trapped, watching as Ryland was. His hands were wrapped tightly around the old, iron footboard, leaning toward them with a look on his face that made it clear he had forgotten to breathe.

I didn’t blame him.

Ilyan closed his eyes as the pain became too much, a yell breaking from his chest in a growl filled with the same agony, the same feral sound ripping through the space. I cringed against it, scared of what was about to happen when Joclyn’s voice joined his. The tone of her pain matched his in perfect harmony. It was a song of a screams that ripped through the hot air, ripped through my heart.

And then Ilyan opened his eyes, ones as black as Joclyn’s looking back at me. I saw them for one moment before a painful weight in my chest ran through me. An agonizing weight ripped around me like fire that absorbed me, fire that ruled me, fire that pulled me right into the same sight Joclyn had been trapped in, right into the same sight Ilyan now saw.

Right into the sight that had left me so long ago.

In one distressed gasp, the flames ran over me, drowning me in sights. The visions flashed before me with the speed of a strobe light: images of death, joy, war, and peace. There were images from hundreds of years ago and images I had seen yet had not come to fruition. I watched them all, my chest tightening with the realization of what I was looking at.

It was more than being in sight; it was seeing
all
sights. I was seeing everything that had ever been given to me by the mud. It was a recall of extraordinary proportions.

As I watched, calmness took over, a peace I didn’t think I had ever experienced before. Seeing all these amazing moments of my life, seeing my wife again, my children, I watched them, no doubt crying, about to burst with the strength of the emotion.

Then it was gone in a flash of white as hot and as powerful as the fire that had pulled me into that space and swallowed me whole.

My nerves jumped as though someone had stomped on me, my awareness tightening painfully at the amazing reality of what I was now surrounded by.

Yes, it was white. It was nothing, but it was more than that.

I was there, no longer sitting in a room with my sister and her mate, no longer broken and weak. I was there, among the nothing, the happiness of my sights still swirling through me.

“Hello.” The feminine voice came out of nowhere, so familiar, but I could not place it. There was wisdom in it that did not seem to fit.

“Hello?” I asked, looking through the space in an attempt to find the owner yet facing only the bright white of the world.

“Your sights are beautiful,” she said, the voice seeming to come from inside of me.

“Are they?” My confusion was melding into something closer to panic.

“Yes.”

“Who are you?” I asked, still looking through the nothing, still trying to place the voice, still trying not to lose my calm.

“You know me,” she said, her voice indicating a smile. “Everything will be all right, Dramin.”

“Will it?”

“Yes,” she said on a sigh, the joy in her voice fading away. The single word echoed hauntingly off the nothingness surrounding me. “It will hurt, but it will all be all right.”

My shoulders jerked at the frightening admission, my legs moving quickly as I pushed myself to stand, my feet spinning, eyes searching, the tension in me growing as I began searching for her, searching for the answers I needed.

“What do you mean?” I gasped. “What are you talking about?”

“Your death.” Her voice was monotone with sadness, the emotion so strong I fell back down to the floor, my heart as heavy as if someone had filled it with lead.

“It is coming, then?” I asked, shocked by the wave of sorrow the thought gave me. I had longed for it for so long, after all. I had seen it. I had expected it. Part of me had given up the moment I had stepped in front of Ryland.

“Yes,” she whispered. Her voice was so close now I was positive that, if I turned, I would see her. However, I didn’t even move. I stared at the palms of my hands, the color dark against the white. “Sooner than you think, but I need you to do something for me first.”

“What?” I asked, the question surprising me as I looked up, still expecting to see her.

Instead, I came face-to-face with a little girl I had never seen before: blonde hair to her waist, green eyes, and a button nose that made her tiny self look even smaller. I was confident she couldn’t be any more than seven.

“You must stop this child,” the voice gasped as the little girl stood still, looking like a doll in a shop window.

Staring at the child, I waited for answers, not knowing who the mysterious girl was, part of me not wanting to find out.

“This child is coming to kill someone who is needed. You must stop that from happening.”

“How can I stop an assassin if I can barely move?” I asked in desperation, watching the child vanish into the smoke of memory.

“You will fight. You will see.” Her voice came from right behind me, her breath hot against my neck, and I turned, expecting the white space of the sight.

But the white was now occupied with a woman I knew well. Older, different, but the same.

Joclyn stood before me, wisdom in her eyes from hundreds of years that had come and gone without either of us seeing them.

“Hello, Uncle,” she whispered. “Long time no see.”

My eyes narrowed at the phrase, not understanding her meaning, not even understanding what was going on or why she was here. I opened my mouth to ask, but she smiled before her bright laugh echoed around me as she walked away, her hair flowing behind her in a long, black sheet, the golden ribbon wrapped around her ankle.

“When the child comes, you will know,” she whispered before she was swallowed by the white, leaving me staring into the blanket of brilliance, the light wrapping around me so tightly it was all I saw. It was all there was until the screams came again. The discordant sound took over and pulled me out of the beautiful prescience I had missed so much and longed for so deeply since the magic had died inside of me.

I listened to the sound as I watched the sights play again, looking over everything that had happened in the fifteen hundred years of my existence until my own scream joined theirs. My own pain and anguish returned until the sight was gone, and I was left huddling on the floor, a panicked Ryland screaming for some form of assistance, and a few words embedded inside of me, whispering to my soul …

“I love you, Uncle.”

Wyn moved like she was possessed, her joints jerking in weird directions as her body relentlessly pushed her forward. I walked behind her at a safe distance, enjoying her struggle, enjoying seeing her reduced to such a pathetic mass.

I smiled wickedly, throwing my hair to the side as Wynifred stumbled over her own feet, her body lunging into the white stone building we were walking next to.

The crack of skull against stone resonated through the empty city, her head impacting into the wall before she slid down to the ground in a pathetic heap, a bright red streak following her.

“Oh, dear,” I sighed, my voice dripping with false sympathy. “Are you okay? That looks like it hurts.”

Her eyes swung toward me with all the wide-eyed horror I would expect from someone in this situation. The horrified glance was made all the more real by the fact that she had no other choice than to give in to me.

Her mouth opened wide, and for a brief moment, I thought she was going to scream again, but she simply stared, odd gurgling noises seeping from her throat.

“Pathetic.” Chuckling acidly at the withered girl below me, I took another step forward, pressing the point of my high-heeled boot into her side with an aggressive swing, causing her eyes to grow wider. “I’m sorry. What was that? You say you are okay…” I dug deeper with my toe, watching her writhe as it pressed against the ridges of her rib cage.

Broken sobs leaked out with a pathetic growl from somewhere deep inside her chest.

“Don’t you think we should get moving?”

Her mouth snapped shut in one quick movement, her teeth clicking together in a loud crack.

I smiled at the way my father was taking control, at the tears leaking from the sides of her eyes.

“Get up,” I growled, the strength in my voice pounding against the stone and bouncing back to us with the strength of a hammer.

Wyn flinched at the sound, at the wave of my violent magic that rode on the back of my words, hitting her in the face with a heady warning that I could instantly tell she was going to ignore.

She didn’t move. She shivered a bit, her body moving as if it was cold. I knew better, though, especially in this heat.

She was still fighting him, and at this point, I was losing my patience. I could feel it grind against my spine, my soul pleading with me to make her hurt.

And I could make it happen.

“Get up,” I snapped, my voice even louder as my magic rushed from me, spinning around her and picking her up with an energy that lifted her off the ground.

The soft scream of fear seeped from her mouth as I slammed her against the wall repeatedly. The rag doll her body had become rattled against the hard stone with each abrasive impact.

Laughing, I watched her bounce, reveling in the soft sound of her cries, before dropping her again, her body collapsing in a twisted heap.

“Get up,” I growled.

This time, she didn’t wait, her pathetic sobs echoing disgustingly as she lifted herself.

Snarling, I turned away from her, my eyes darting down the street to the tall spires of the cathedral, long shadows clawing over us as the sun fully set.

“Come, Wynifred,” I called behind me as the sound of her dragging steps moved closer. “We have a wedding to get back to.”

I wish it was that simple: a job well done, a bonding, and the feast that would follow. However, once the sun went down, this place would become a labyrinth, and I wasn’t foolish enough to “turn on a light” so to speak. A bright, yellow light in a black world would be nothing more than a death sentence. We needed to get back before that happened. I didn’t want to deprive my father of his prize, after all.

Another feral growl and I turned back to the pathetic creature who leaned against the wall beside me. I could tell she was going to be more of a hindrance than I had thought. My patience was already gone.

With one swift movement, I pulled her hand out from where she had cradled it against her chest. The wrist was slick with the red blood that oozed out of the newly opened wound in her palm, the color even brighter in the light of the quickly fading day.

She gasped, the scream strangled as she attempted to pull away. However, I held on, malice spreading through my wide grin as I watched her fear grow into something beautiful.

My fingers pressed roughly against the blade protruding from her palm as her cries continued, my fingers twisting it farther into her hand, ripping the already ragged flesh apart.

Now she screamed as I clasped my hand, sticky with her blood, over her mouth, leaving just the sound of my deep laugh in the alley.