The Dragon Legion Collection(55)

Her gaze blazed into his own, daring him to trust her, and Damien did.

Then she gave a cry of horror and stepped back. He reached for her as she spun away, but his fingers only brushed the cloth of her tunic. The ground crumbled on all sides of him, dissolving beneath his feet with terrifying speed.

Damien screamed as he fell.

He fell into an abyss, one filled with darkness, the glint of darkfire, and a thousand hissing snakes. There was nothing to grab but the snakes that fell with him, no way to save himself, and he had no ability to shift shape.

He tried.

Over and over and over again.

Damien landed on a rocky patch of dirt, the impact hard enough to steal the breath from his lungs. He closed his eyes in horror at the sound of snakes landing on the ground all around him. When he looked, some of them were still wriggling, while others had slithered away. It was still twilight, although there were no stars.

There was no sign of Petra.

Damien sat up with caution. Where had the darkfire cast him now?

He was in a deadened forest, silence on every side. The trees were barren of leaves, their branches stretched upward, as if straining toward a sun that never lit this realm. Even though their boughs were empty, it was darker within the ghostly forest and more still. It was colder even than the rest of the underworld and Damien shivered. The bark of the trees was grey, more like stone than wood.

Fear slid down Damien’s spine.

There was fog near the ground, a fog that became denser with every passing moment. It sent a chill through him and he noticed that there was no spark of darkfire in the pale haze.

He didn’t trust its absence.

Damien heard a rustling and spun to defend himself, his dagger at the ready.

There was no one behind him, just a tree.

He might have turned away but he saw a contorted face in the trunk of the tree. A person was trapped inside, silently screaming for a release that would never come.


Damien backed away, not trusting his own eyes. His back collided with another tree, and he spun to find another anguished face just behind his shoulder. He ran from tree to tree, realizing there were people trapped in every one.

Frozen forever.

And Damien was engulfed in a memory he’d have preferred to forget.



* * *



Damien was returning to Petra after a quick trip to Delphi, the teasing of his fellow warriors echoing in his thoughts. What if he was falling in love? Damien couldn’t think of a woman more likely to fascinate him forever than his Petra.

He hurried, shifting shape and flying over the mountains to save time. Even though he didn’t bring the best news, he wanted to be with Petra sooner. His journey had gone as planned and he was striding out of the hills, in human form, by twilight.

Damien was tired and dusty, hungry but ready to see his lady again. Three days away had been too long. He was anticipating an evening before the hearth, savoring Petra’s kisses and her laughter. He didn’t care if there was only dry bread to eat. Her company would be enough. He imagined a long night in bed, of sharing kisses and confessions. He loved how their son was making her figure more full and her features more soft.

They had stopped in a village when Petra became ill with her pregnancy and had lived there several weeks. It was small but not too small—they could be overlooked in its confines, but also recognized. He and Petra kept to themselves, always paid promptly and in full, and were courteous. Although Damien didn’t like to remain in one place for long, he’d reconciled himself to remaining here until his son was born.

But it looked different on this night. To Damien’s astonishment, there was a forest where the village should be. He stopped and stared, doubting the evidence of his eyes. No, the forest had filled the village, for the houses were still there. Damien couldn’t make sense of it. He walked closer, cautious as he tried to determine a reason for the change.

It was quiet, too quiet. He strained his ears but could only hear the crackle of a single fire on a hearth. He knew it was in the courtyard of the house he shared with Petra. There was only stillness, other than the breath of the wind, and the motion he could hear from their home. Petra was there, bustling around as usual, as if in anticipation of his return.

But where had these trees come from? What had happened to the village? There was usually some activity, even until dark.

Damien realized the trees had no branches. They were more like pillars, or trees that had been sawn off at about his height. He had a very bad feeling as he stepped into this strange forest, although he couldn’t have named the reason why.

Then he saw the first face and realized the truth.

They weren’t trees: they were people.

He reached out and touched one, shocked to find the man as cold and hard as stone. It was the farmer who lived beside them. There was his wife next to him, similarly immobilized. Though they couldn’t move, their eyes were filled with accusation. Damien touched another and another, then realized they’d been enchanted and turned to stone.

He thought of the prophecy that had just been given to him and feared for Petra.

He ran to their home, flinging open the door and bursting into the central courtyard.

Petra turned to smile at him in welcome. She was fine, much to his relief, humming as she stirred a pot of stew that was set over the fire. He stood shaking in the doorway but she smiled, as if nothing was wrong at all.

“I thought you would return tonight,” she said easily. “I kept the stew warm for you.” He realized that she was completely different from his mother. There was no demand in her expectation, no need. On another night, he might have been relieved, for his mother had nearly destroyed his father.