Chapter 32

Chapter

Thirty-Two

TRESSYA

There was no escape from the overwhelming intensity of the bluish light, so bright it should have scorched my eyes, yet I felt nothing. I was numb to any sensations, as if separated from my body. It made no sense—unless this was a dream. Yet the vividness of the vision and the clarity in my mind made it feel like I was actually present.

People were speaking, but light and the sudden sensation of being abruptly thrown into a dreamscape—or whatever inexplicable experience had caught me inside—disorientated me. Where were they? Who was speaking? The apostles? Osmud and Bryra? No, the voices were unfamiliar, perhaps conjured from the depths of my unconscious mind.

I took calming breaths, determined to pull myself out of sleep, but I only seemed to fall deeper. The light lost none of its intensity, but my eyes gradually adjusted, and my disorientation eased. As with any dream, I felt powerless to control my body; my eyes remained fixed on what lay before me.

The object pulsed with a bluish light in rhythm with my heartbeat. Its intensity obscured its true form, but I noticed someone standing on the other side. The man was partially visible through a mysterious fog, his figure almost transparent against the intense rays of light.

The voices were speaking again, though I couldn't discern what they were saying. Now that my mind was clear, I realized the voices were coming from within my head, a sensation similar to speaking with the Mother.

A sudden hollow laugh reverberated through my head, throwing me out of my dream. I jolted upright to find myself beside the flickering remains of our campfire. Tortilus and Plesy were a short distance away, leaning against a tree trunk, engrossed in one of their texts, illuminated by a conjured light held in Tortilus' hand. With apparently only half the enthusiasm for knowledge, the other two apostles had fallen asleep beside them, Wellard's snores punctuating the night. Osmud remained with his back to me, gazing up at the night sky, and Bryra was nowhere in sight.

"Bad dreams?" Osmud remarked without looking back, his tone more accusatory than inquisitive.

I considered my response. "Weird is a better word. Where's Bryra?"

Tortilus and Plesy glanced across at me upon realizing I was awake.

"Patrolling. She gave me strict instructions not to eat you in your sleep."

I snorted a sound that had nothing to do with humor. " Tamas wears a scar under his heart because at one point he thought the same thing."

"We've made no progress. There's no mention so far of these Eone. But we'll keep trying," Tortilus said as his conjured light faded. His focus appeared to be solely on acquiring knowledge and enhancing his magic, making him adept at overlooking signals and coming between escalating arguments.

Ignoring Tortilus, Osmud continued. "Glad to see he found some sense, however fleeting, between being led by his cock and the Eone's possession—if he's truly possessed."

"Before he disappeared, we fought, briefly, during which I found my beast."

Osmud fell silent, then slowly turned to meet my gaze. A moment of recognition passed between us, an almost tangible emotion that transcended any petty grievances—a bond as unifying as blood. We continued to lock eyes, and I felt a sensation akin to my ribcage being peeled open, my heart exposed for his scrutiny, as if he were evaluating its worth.

"That's significant," he said, still holding my eyes.

I didn't know if he expected a reply, so I continued to hold his gaze. Then he gave a small quirk of his lips, a concessionary smile, before turning back to stare at the stars. "Timing sucks, though. It can be a disorientating feeling in the beginning. And right now, we need everyone focused."

Tortilus slammed his book closed. "I'm sorry. Did you just say you transformed into...?"

Tortilus ceased to be heard by either of us. "It was…" Words could not capture the depth of what I had felt .

Tortilus and Plesy crawled toward the fire, leaving Wellard and Selisimus to their sleep.

"That's…good. Is it not, Plesy?" Tortilus continued, avoiding my eyes, his voice far from cheerful.

"Yes…yes, it was…going to happen, given…well."

"It doesn't matter." I saved Plesy from his misery. "I think I saw Tamas in my dream."

"You did?" the two apostles said in unison.

This time, Osmud swiveled to face me. "What made it weird?"

"The voices in my head."

"Told you the early stages of transforming will disorientate you. Or, perhaps, send you insane. If you weren't that already."

Immune to people's taunts, I ignored Osmud and shifted uneasily on my makeshift bed of clothes, uncertain how to articulate my dream.

Now that I was awake, I felt sure I had not been dreaming at all. What I witnessed was real. The reason I felt out of control of my body was because I had been in someone else's head, seeing through their eyes. It was unfathomable, but I believed I had actually possessed the dead. Was that yet another shocking tear in the veil?

Should I be honest and reveal the terrible mistakes I'd made in tearing the veil between life and death? The shame bled like an open wound. I expected Osmud's judgment, but what about Bryra and the apostles? Would they blame me for everything that had happened and was yet to happen because of my selfish choices?

‘Did you know about this?' I felt sure the Mother would be privy to everything that went on in my mind while I was asleep, but she remained stubbornly silent.

"I believe the voices were real. Only the people talking were dead."

Osmud huffed as if losing interest. "Anything can happen in a dream."

"I feel sure I watched Tamas through the eyes of someone else."

"Like I said, anything can happen in a dream."

Neither Osmud nor the apostles would grasp the significance of admitting I was certain I had breached the veil and assumed the body of someone on the other side—a feat that should be impossible while awake or asleep, except if you were a spiritweaver intent on destroying the veil with your continual mistakes—or deliberate actions.

"A disturbing dream indeed," Plesy agreed. "But why do you think the people talking in your head were dead?"

"They were on the other side of the veil," I said, springing to my feet, unable to stay still as my secrets clamored for release. "As a spiritweaver, I've done things I shouldn't have. Things that I believe may have weakened the veil separating the living from the dead."

"Like raising a dead army?" Osmud said.

"I didn't know. That's not true." I clawed my hands through my knotted hair. "I knew there were consequences, but I didn't realize how bad they were. And then releasing Andriet from his death place and being unable to return him."

"Yes, that was quite a shock?" Tortilus said .

Only to be drowned by Osmud. "How has that weakened the veil?"

"The Mother tricked me. And I'm sure her possession—" Oh shit, that was one share too far.

"Whoa, the Mother what?" Osmud demanded. He lurched to his feet.

"I'm sure Tamas is with the Etherweave," I blurted out, hoping to divert everyone from my bumbling revelation.

"Mercy upon us," Plesy cried. "He's released the Etherweave."

"No." I turned away, unconsciously pressing my hand against my heart. "I'm not sure. Something doesn't feel right. If he did, I'd know. I'm sure I would."

"Can we return to the part about the Mother and the possession?" Osmud interrupted.

"So you can feel its call?" Tortilus said. Both he and Plesy had joined us in standing. With all the noise, Wellard and Selisimus had also awoken.

"The possession is more important," Osmud barked. "How much of what you say comes from your Mother's influence?"

"None."

"Is Tamas truly possessed, or are you deflecting?" Osmud paced toward me.

"No. I mean, yes, he's possessed. And no, I'm not…what does it matter? "

"Because I want to know how much of what you say we can believe."

My eyes dipped to his hands, searching for evidence that he was sprouting claws, as I was—though I could easily disregard the mild discomfort. It was Osmud's stealthy and agile movements, combined with his piercing stare, scrutinizing every aspect of me, that triggered my recently acquired instinct and ability to grow claws.

I pulled up my sleeve, shoving Tamas' mark toward Osmud. "Tamas knows me." I'm sure he does . "He trusts me." I think .

"Then why did he disappear as the nightmare, ensuring you couldn't follow him?"

"Ensuring none of us could follow him. That was the Eone's doing." Possibly. I was putting a lot of faith in Tamas' ability to fight the Eone.

He deserted us to reach the Etherweave . But he had yet to release it. The scathing laugh I'd heard in my dream was his, directed at the Eone, no doubt.

Osmud suddenly tensed, turning his head to the side, momentarily ignoring me as he froze. I held my breath, tuning into my newly sharpened senses, and heard the rapid approach of pounding feet. For a moment, my heart raced with all the possibilities, but reading Osmud's expression, I felt confident it was Bryra.

Such was her speed that she burst into our campsite moments later. "We have company," she announced.

"Two legged or worse?" Osmud said.

"Much worse," Bryra replied.

"You lot get conjuring. We want the night to glow," Osmud demanded the apostles, who, for a moment, remained paralyzed by the fire.

"What did she mean?" Selisimus turned wide, anxious eyes to his brethren. "What's worse?" Selisimus demanded. "Is the Salmun here?"

"You heard him, Selis. They need us," Tortilus said. "Gather close. Combined, we can conjure enough light to mask the night."

Osmud stabbed a finger at me. "Stay in human form. Now is not the time to lose your head."

Bryra's gaze shifted between Osmud and me. I gave a small shake of my head, then bent to retrieve my weapons, lacking the time and energy to repeat our conversation. I was sure Bryra suspected the Mother had done something to me, and I was grateful she remained silent, rather than confronting me with her suspicions.

A prolonged, resonant cry echoed through the trees, carried by the wind. Wellard let out a shriek, but Bryra's quick reflexes caught him before he could topple backward into the campfire.

I unsheathed my daggers. "Stay where you are," I told the apostles as Bryra, Osmud and I formed a protective circle around them.

"Give me your hands," Tortilus demanded, offering a hand to Wellard and Plesy. "You know the chant," he directed each of them.

"Come on, you fuckers," Osmud breathed.

‘How far will my soul voice reach?' I reached inward toward the Mother. With our combined strength, I wondered if I could reduce the minds of the Ashenlands creatures to mush. The Mother remained silent, unwilling to share her knowledge in my desperate time of need.

So be it. I would claim the knowledge for myself. With a calming breath and a focused thought, Aetherius flowed through my mind like a gentle breeze. I delved deep within my soul, scouring every shadowy crevice, until I found her hiding place in the deepest recesses of my mind. There was scant time to examine the insidious spread of her spiritual tendrils, and even less to scrutinize the toxic barbs of her grip, before I pierced the barrier she had erected to fend off my intrusion. It shattered under the force of my will, engulfing my vision in white.

I was suspended, formless, adrift in a white haze like billowing fog. All sensation faded to nothingness, leaving not even the beat of my heart to anchor me in my body.

‘What is this? What is happening?' But the Mother gave me no answer.

Voices echoed in my mind, guiding my consciousness towards a singular point where the fog swirled, then slowly cleared. At that moment, I felt myself settle as if finally coming back to earth.

Curses on high, I had done it again—pierced the veil to end up back with Tamas, and I'd been powerless to stop it, and at such a terrible time to be lost in my head.

Tamas wasn't present, and now my vision was clear, enabling me to see the rock—the Etherweave's tomb for a millennium—beneath the pulsing bluish light. We stood in a cavernous chamber, its walls and floor reflecting the bluish luminescence from the Etherweave's beating heart. Overhead, a chute, tunneled up from the ground, lead to the vast expanse of the starlit sky.

I thought of my presence here in terms of we, because I sensed others beside me, sensed I was one of them, forming a deep connection that spanned millennia; I was within a soul that had persisted through the ages. Had I penetrated the veil and ended up in the mind of one of the Eone?

Suddenly, a figure descended through the open cavity from above, and my heart stopped at the sight of him. Tamas landed with a grace befitting his lineage, cast a measured glance at the rock, then arched his head back, as if to ease the tension in his shoulders.

Tamas. I tried to move toward him, but it was neither my body nor my mind that could bridge the gap. With mounting horror, I realized I was powerless to reach him in my current state. He belonged to the realm of the living, while I was trapped among the dead, caught in the mind of a woman whose ancient wisdom was not immune to the infliction of greed.

I sensed it consuming her mind as she observed Tamas moving slowly around the chamber, as if the emotion were my own. Surprisingly, she was impatient, odd for a woman who had lived through a thousand lifetimes. The restlessness in her veins sparked the newly united Razohan aspect of my nature; the beast within prowled, clawing at its cage, yearning for release.

Soon, Morwen . Soon, a male voice echoed in my mind, yet I could tell it didn't belong to the spirit I had invaded.

We have waited so long , replied Morwen, the woman whose mind I was inhabiting.

This had to be the mighty Eone.

She sighed. I can almost smell the succulent aroma of life. I can almost savor its sublime beauty.

The divide is weakening as we speak , came another male voice, more melodious than the first. Our time is almost upon us.

He waits, he paces , came a second female voice, carrying a sinister edge with a lilt as sharp as a shard of glass. A hostage, ignorant of the forces that have awakened. And now he is their prison.

What did she mean by ‘their prison?'

A fitting finale , came the first male voice.

Tamas was the prisoner of the Eone, his mind controlled by their will, so why would this woman believe Tamas was now their prison? And if she thought of the Eone as a separate entity, whose mind had I invaded?

I watched Tamas pace, my beast mirroring his restless movements with its own unease, sensing my confinement within this woman's mind.

Tamas was the least vulnerable person I knew. His courage and force of will were equal to his formidable presence. The restrained violence emanating from each step, and the tense readiness of his muscles, eager to be unleashed, were undeniable. But for now, the predator prowled as though caught within a cage, and I couldn't help perceive what Morwen and her cohort saw; his vulnerability to the forces that waited just behind the veil.

My arms ached to touch him; my body craved to unite us, to feel the security of his embrace, the reassuring warmth of his skin against mine, to remind myself that he was mine, and I was his, that our fates as bonded surpassed any destiny of power.

My longing for him eclipsed any hunger, any primal need for survival. I needed to confess that I was ready to surrender, that I yearned for him to be mine forever, because deep in my heart, I knew I was his. I wanted no barriers, no fragility of life to snatch him away, no obstacle that could prevent me from hunting him down and bringing him back to me.

Something large and heavy knocked me sideways with a whoosh of my breath, wrenching me from Morwen's mind. I landed on my hip with a guttural cry. Twenty-three years of discipline and training kept my dagger gripped firm in my hands, even as my claws punched through the tips of my fingers.

A crazed fury lay along the path of my beast. Osmud was right. That was not the answer to this fight. I resisted the longing to transform and instead swiped upward, slicing the creature in two, raining its blood down over me.

Having just been yanked from someone's mind, I felt momentarily disoriented as I sprang to my feet. I searched for Osmud and Bryra but found the apostles, who had formed a circle. Eerie screeches tore through the night, yet the apostles did not disrupt their chanting, busy conjuring a bright light swelling between them.

I dashed forward on seeing a shadowy creature flutter down from a nearby tree. A winged beast was a formidable target. And this one had a tail, forked with barbs that curled back on themselves like antlers. It swiveled its bat-like head back and forth, as if deciding its first target, then it spread its wings and took flight toward us. Intercepting its flight path, I severed its head, then dodged away to miss being felled by its body.

The night was alive with chaos. Death manifested in countless forms. One apostle shrieked, but I disregarded his fear and lunged forward, confronting the sudden swarm of the Salmun's winged creations. In the budding blaze of the apostles' conjured light, I saw the striated veins wrapping like vines around their forelegs, the sharp angles of their protruding ribs, their elongated fangs, and the depths of their hollow eyes.

And I cut through them all until their body parts littered the ground at my feet. A snarl rumbled deep in my throat, and I wiped a drip of saliva on the back of my hand, realizing my fangs had punched through my gums.

"Tressya," Tortilus cried.

But I was already in motion, driven by my beast's primal instincts. My muscles tightened, primed for battle, prepared for the next approaching horde. They scuttled across the ground like spiders, with countless long legs, bulbous bodies, and small, venomous mouths.

My mind and body were in perfect harmony, feeling an added strength in the way I wielded my daggers and gracefully evaded attacks. My weapons extended beyond my daggers; they were in my reflexes, my speed, my skill, and even my enhanced senses that pierced the night, ensuring no enemy could remain concealed in the shadows. I decimated the horde, soaking my clothes in their blood, which leeched a stench of vomit and rotten fish.

A shadowy shape took flight from the trees and spiraled overhead. I watched, determining its height, its speed and the trajectory of its path. Then I threw one of my daggers, the steel blade glinting in the apostles' weak light.

The creature emitted a shrill screech when the blade pierced its chest. Its flight became erratic, then faltered, before its wings folded and it plummeted from the sky.

Driven by an instinct I couldn't describe, I raced over to where it landed. It was a few body lengths longer than me, with leathery wings covered in thick black veins. Its snout was long, its mouth lined with nasty teeth to match its claws, protruding from scaled feet.

I crouched beside it, understanding the urge that drove me to do this. During the Ashenlands war, the Razohan had proven these foul creature's souls were for the taking, and as a Razohan, this soul was mine. I was positive at some point, assuming its form would be lifesaving, much as Tamas had saved my life by taking the form of the nightmare.

I placed my hand over its heart, instantly plunged into a labyrinth of darkness, flung along winding pathways with disorienting speed.

I was no stranger to invading another's body in the hunt for their soul word, and recently, their minds, but this was a dizzy array of confusing thought patterns that made no sense and were driven primarily by instincts alone.

Again, an inscrutable knowing told me to abandon its mind and to delve far deeper in search of its soul. It was like being flung into the ocean while still dressed in all my clothes. I was weightless and floundering, with no heartbeat to use as an anchor to keep me from spiraling into the unknown. The quest for its soul was a totally different experience to searching for soul voice, and I suddenly feared that I would fail with no way of knowing how to free myself.

Time became immeasurable. The landscape upon which I was flung was like an impenetrable forest. Visions churned through my head, then played out before my eyes in repetitive patterns. I wasn't sure if I should dismiss this invasion or if it led the way to the secret gem I was hunting for.

Suddenly, a light flared ahead, piercing through the darkened forest of the creature's inner life, the only marker I had found since daring this audacious feat. I focused all my energy on reaching it, but it was like battling the currents in the merciless sea.

The struggle was in my mind; none of my newfound physical strength could aid me here, only my strength of will.

"Tressya!" came Osmud's powerful cry.

My battle against the creature's inner forces wavered. Was he issuing a warning? Yet I needed to reach the light ahead. Before the voice, I had been gaining ground, but now the currents felt like arms around my body, pulling me away.

Claws punched through the tips of my fingers, fangs sliced through my gums. They alone were powerless against this mental struggle, but the sting steadied my concentration and reminded me of my purpose, of what was mine.

"Tressya!" Osmud sounded no closer, but there was a desperate edge to his voice. Definitely a warning.

I gritted my teeth and surged forward. In my mind's eye, I saw my hands reach out, claws poised to claim my prize, then I felt a drop of wetness on the back of my neck, followed by a trickle running down to my nape.

Osmud's cry had been a warning all right. Another of the Salmun's creatures reared behind me. No doubt ready to strike while I remained lost in the mind of my prey.

Come on! I mentally kicked at the barrier I felt, while prickles sliced across my back, caused by the very much alive creature that had snuck up behind me, taking advantage of my distraction in chasing this soul.

This was all for nought if I lost my head. But dammit, I wanted this winged creature's soul.

Back me up, Osmud .

Brute force wasn't the answer. My success lay with discipline , the best of the six pillars, my calming breaths and Aetherius .

Aetherius burst forth, slamming through the barrier, plummeting me into the light as the hot breath of the creature behind me came warm across my nape.

Releasing my mental hold, I spun, striking out with my clawed hand, punching through the beast's chest and fisting my hand around its heart. At that exact moment, a dagger pierced its flesh, narrowly missing my hand.

"Fuck, Tressya," Osmud growled. "I nearly took your hand."

"Next time, have a little more faith."

Osmud kicked the creature off his dagger, and its heart came away in my fist. He glanced down at the still beating heart, oozing black blood from between my fingers, and grumbled. "Are you going to waste valuable time taking its soul as well?"

"One will do for now."

To my surprise, he flashed me a smirk. "I think I'm understanding what Tamas sees in you. But we're not done yet." Then he disappeared from my side and into the fray.

****

TAMA S

I crawled my way forward, using my claws as anchors to help me progress across the floor. Through sheer force of will, I managed a few more paces; still not enough, underscoring how little control I truly possessed.

"This is madness. You know I spoke the truth," I yelled, but my fury was futile. The Eone was unmoved by my threats, then pleas. "The Etherweave will never release without Tressya." Not for the first time I'd stated the truth, nor would it be the last.

Upon my failure to release the Etherweave, they expressed disbelief and horror before vanishing into silence. I naively thought they had retreated to sulk, but the moment I attempted to return to Tressya, they bound my body in an ironclad hold, resisting my attempts to transform.

I tried to take on the form of the nightmare, but the Eone had buried that aspect deep within my mind, compelling me to turn to my beastly nature. Yet, even that part of me remained confined behind a mental barrier, too formidable for me to shatter completely. I unleashed my claws, only to find the Eone exerting an overwhelming influence over my limbs. They even dared to attempt control over my thoughts and decisions once more, but my rage became a potent tool in shielding that part of my mind from their vile demands.

Despite my efforts, I remained powerless. Crossing even a short distance across the floor required immense effort. I felt as though I was trapped in rapidly setting clay, my mind seething against the formidable forces binding me—a Razohan's worst nightmare. Too often in recent months, I had found myself at the mercy of magic. Despite the promises I had made to myself, I couldn't prevent myself from falling victim to magic's grip.

Once I control the Etherweave . It was a poisonous thought I dared not voice, lest the Eone discover it. Yet, it simmered within me, mingling with my rage, which was scorching me like fire.

I collapsed forward onto my chest, exhaustion sinking into my limbs at having fought against my chains for as long as I had. I rolled onto my back, staring up at the night sky. "You'll lose your chance with your precious Etherweave if you let her die."

There must be another way . Finally Ovia spoke, consulting the other three, perhaps forgetting I was privy to their mental exchanges.

I lay silent and waited.

And if there is not? Ineth said.

She cannot be involved , Carthius said.

Most definitely. They have already claimed her as theirs in this war. How could this have happened? How did we fail?

Fear not, dearest Fivia, Carthius said. We will prevail. They are not yet here.

But it is so close. You must feel it, Fivia said. I cannot be forever bound to this cage, she lamented.

We are the Eone , Ineth declared, as though that alone guaranteed their triumph. We cannot be stopped.

But he is weak, Ovia said, which had to be regarding me.

Perhaps we chose the wrong one , Carthius said.

"Now that's interesting," I added. Instantly, they receded from my mind. "Don't go," I crooned. "I want to know more about who they are. And the fact you are referring to me as your cage. That is very interesting."

Silence.

I entwined my fingers and rested them on my chest. "Fine. I'll just lay on my back, staring up at the night sky, and wait for you to get chatty again."

They remained quiet.

"I may be weak and useless, but I sense the fear in you. Something is about to happen you didn't foresee and it frightens you. The mighty Eone. And now you have to face the very real possibility you may actually lose."

A millennium we have waited , Ovia said. It is not possible.

Ovia had retreated to mentally communicating with her companions, but I replied. "It's highly likely. In fact, you'll fail because your plan depends on me. If you want me off this floor, you'll have to grant me control over my body. And you know exactly what will happen once you do that."

‘You are nothing more than our instrument,' Carthius said.

"True, but one that will hinder your manipulation. With every breath, I'll resist you, and Fivia there seems to believe you're in quite a hurry. I'm just not convinced you'll succeed."

‘What if he is right?' I smiled on hearing the unease in Ovia's question.

‘He is taunting us,' Ineth snapped.

"Am I? Then why do I sense this brewing anxiousness? It's not coming from me, I can tell you that."

‘Do not let his provocations upset you,' Carthius said.

"Grant me one opportunity to aid my friends, and then I'll attempt it once more." Twice the Eone and I tried to raise the Etherweave. Twice we'd failed.

‘You yourself told us what you would do if we were to release you from our binds,' Fivia said.

I raised my arms, pleased to see I could easily place my hands behind my head. "I'll just make myself comfortable, shall I? Oh, and not to upset you, but Tressya will be here soon. I hate to say it, but you really did choose the wrong person between the two of us. She's far more capable. I'm sure she would find a way to raise the Etherweave all by herself."

My remark was met with silence.