A Dawn of Onyx (The Sacred Stones, #1)(77)

I felt remorse. Deep, painful, specific, like a needle piercing my gut. Remorse that I had almost killed two innocent creatures out of terror.

Through my palms, golden light blazed, and I pushed the cold water through the chimera’s lungs like a maze. Encouraged, I moved my hands up along its esophagus. The light that emanated from my hands grew brighter over the chimera’s throat as I worked. Pushing and plying, I drove the water out with careful focus.

The second creature had stalked over. He menaced toward me with a roar that shook the trees above us.

But I didn’t have time to feel afraid.

“She’s going to live,” I said, my teeth chattering around the words. I knew he couldn’t understand me. “I can save her, if you don’t maul me.” I pushed power from my fingertips into her torso as the water lodged in her lungs worked its way out.

The other chimera considered me, then looked down. Slowly he lay next to his mate, tucking his snout between her back and the forest floor, whining softly.

After one final push, a spray of putrid wet flew out the chimera’s mouth and I ducked. She rolled over and choked in air, and I exhaled my own in turn. The relief was like a solid weight in my palms. Tangible and grounding.

Thank the Bleeding Stones.

The chimera I had saved sluggishly climbed onto all fours and shook out her wet fur. Her mate nuzzled and licked at her, before turning back toward the woods. I took that as my cue to leave and gave one last glance at the two creatures, but they were already retreating in the other direction. The larger chimera turned back at me once, and his melancholy, white eyes held mine for a single moment.

But I was most definitely out of time. The eclipse was high in the sky, painting the entire forest an unnerving blue. My limbs were heavy with the exertion of my power, but I raced for the clearing and turned right at the glistening silver of Dagan’s sword. I pushed aside the deer carcass and saw each burrowroot leaf below me had blossomed into a stunning lotus underneath my fingertips. I plucked as many as I could, jamming them into my pack. Within an instant, the eclipse was over, and the blossoms were gone. The twisted wood was cloaked once again in pale, shadowy moonlight.

I could have cried with relief.

I had done it.

I was freezing, and likely going to need six or seven warm tubs to thaw out. I was soaking wet, covered in dirt, dripping blood from my face, and had sprained the shit out of my wrist. I was still nauseous and achy from last night’s terrible wine-related choices, but I was alive.

And I had the burrowroot.

The thought of giving my mother some kind of hope for the first time in years overwhelmed me. A sob wracked through me, and I bent over, bracing my hands on my knees. It was time to head back.

I reached for Dagan’s sword and stood up, and then I saw it.

A more horrific creature than I thought possible.

Yellow, slitted eyes. A rabid, snarling mouth, lined with pointed teeth. A wet, slick snout. And worse yet—the broad stature and build of a violent, possessed man. I went rigid, my skin prickling and my insides turning cold. Despite my trembling hands and heart, I turned and ran back toward the castle as fast as my legs could carry me.

The wolfbeast chased after me on all fours, all knees and elbows and odd angles. An uncanny sight I’d likely never erase from my mind. I knew it was faster than me. I choked on a sob as tears sprang to my eyes. I ran and ran and ran—terror pulsing in my joints, my legs, my lungs. This could not be how I died.

I took a hard right in hopes of losing the wolfbeast, but his snarls followed me around the bend, and on through the maze of oaks and pines. I cut another right, but he gained on me with ease. Stumbling and slipping on the twisted branches below me, I whipped back and swore I saw primal pleasure in his eyes. A predator that enjoyed the hunt.

I was never going to outrun him.

There was only one way I was making it out of these woods with my life.

I stopped in my tracks, slung out Dagan’s blade, and leveled it at the beast.

My lungs burned.

The creature skidded to a halt and I swung, missing his neck by a mile and slashing his bicep instead. The creature whined at the incision, then roared at me. I didn’t have the breath to weep or sob or beg.

“You insipid child!” His voice was like a razor against metal—inhuman and repulsive. A scream ripped out of me at the shock that he could speak, and I paced backward, still holding my sword out.

Every time I thought I understood the depths of the dangers of this world, something new and even more horrific than the last came for me.

The beast lunged, and this time he slammed me to the ground, knocking the breath out of me and grinding my spine into the rocks below. A sob split from my throat—furious and wild and dripping with agony.

But I shoved him away with every single ounce of strength I had, and scrambled back up before he could sink his claws into my body. I lifted the sword once more—Dagan would not have been pleased with my form. Between my exhaustion and my sprained wrist, I was holding it less like a sword and more like a bat.

The wolfbeast’s face twisted and I understood, then, the term wolfish grin with complete clarity. He was amused. “Didn’t expect the wolf to speak?”

I tried to respond but couldn’t find my voice as he closed in on me. I wanted to scream, but only a whimper slipped out. My trembling palms sweat against the leather pommel of the sword.

“You’re tougher than they said you’d be, but nothing I can’t handle. I can already taste you from here.” The wolf licked at the air with his long, canine tongue.