Chapter 123: The Coming of Age
Melissa’s POV
The air was heavy with the stench of death.
The sight of the injured soldiers lying still on the ground made my heart race as I made my way through the camp. Dark veins ran like creeping shadows across their arms and necks, and their skin had turned an ugly grey.
Lydia knelt next to one of them and touched his forehead with her fingers. “The fever is excessively high. He won’t stay overnight.
I balled my fists up. “This isn’t typical. Yesterday, they were all right.
Her brows wrinkled as she let out a harsh exhale. After sunset, it began to spread more quickly. I initially assumed it was war fatigue, but look at them, Melissa. She gestured to a fighter who was trembling furiously and had his lips parted in wordless agony. This is not a result of combat injuries. There’s a problem.
I knelt next to Rowan, a young man who had been killed. Sweat trickled down his forehead and his breathing was labored. His whole body stiffened when I put a hand on his chest.
He opened his eyes, and they were pitch-black.
He gripped my wrist and I let out a choked gasp.
His voice was hardly more than a whisper as he croaked, “Melissa.”
I grasped his hand more tightly. “I’m present.”
His lips quivered, but what he said next chilled me to the bone.
“It is awakening.”
I gasped.
Lydia jerked her head in his direction. “What is it?”
With a powerful shiver, Rowan’s body arched off the ground as if he were being pulled by an unseen force. Then he became motionless as abruptly as it had begun.
Dead.
I was struck by a wave of horror.
Lydia shook her head after pressing her fingertips to his neck in the hopes of waiting. “He is no longer there.”
I looked around. More fighters were falling to the ground. More shivering bodies with darker veins.
And I was aware.
This was not a disease. It was a curse.
There was a strong aroma of burning herbs in Lydia’s tent. Long shadows were created across the tattered pages of an old spellbook by a flickering candle.
Muttering to herself, Lydia rubbed her fingers over the faded lettering. “My family has owned this book for many generations. It contains documentation of all known forms of dark magic, including blood rituals, plagues, and curses.
Over her shoulder, I leaned. “Do you believe Darius has anything to do with this?”
She paused. “Perhaps. Or perhaps it’s something more ancient.
That didn’t sound good to me.
I turned to a new page and skimmed the text, looking for anything, anything, that would explain what was going on. Then I caught sight of a paragraph in blood-red ink.
“The shadow of the fallen one lingers, looking for a new vessel to rise again when he is unmade.”
A shiver went through my body.
Lydia’s cheeks paled as she read it too. “Melissa, it’s not over.”
I took a deep breath. “No. It’s only the beginning.
I felt a heavy burden sink in my chest as soon as I left Lydia’s tent. The camp was disturbingly quiet-too quiet-and the night was colder than before. There were none of the customary crackling of candles or whispering of soldiers.
With his back to me, I discovered Kane standing by himself close to the demolished battlefield. His hands were clenched into fists at his sides, and his posture was tight.
I stepped closer and softly called, “Kane.”
He didn’t look around.
I had a weird feeling in my stomach. Kane’s muscles were taut, as though he was preparing for an assault, and I had battled next to him long enough to know his combat stance.
“Kane?” I put a hand on his arm and tried again.
He winced.
I took a short intake as he finally looked at me.
His once-comfortable, deep amber eyes had turned gloomy and swirled with shadows.
I stepped back. “What is going on with you?”
He let out a long sigh and briefly closed his eyes. They were normal when he opened them again. His voice was hoarse as he said, “It’s nothing.”
I scowled. “Kane, that’s not nothing.”
He looked aside and ran a hand through his hair. “I simply feel… different.” Something has been tugging at me and whispering in my mind ever since the war was over.
It sent a chill through me. “Whispers?”
He gave a nod. Like someone beckoning me out of the shadows. It urges me to pay attention. He tightened his jaw. “And I’m not sure how much longer I can hold back.”
I grabbed his hand and held it firmly. “Kane, you are stronger than this.”
But I was plagued by doubt even as I spoke. What if the curse wasn’t only affecting the warriors? What about the illness, the dark veins, and the whispers?
Could it have gotten to him already?
That night, I hardly slept at all. Kane’s comments, his shadowed eyes, and the uneasiness in his voice kept coming back to me.
I knew I had to see how he was doing by daylight.
I rushed over to his tent and pushed the flap aside, only to discover it was empty.
My breath caught. “Kane?”
No answer. The blankets were tossed aside as though he had hurried off. His cloak was still draped over the chair, but his sword was gone.
Behind me, Lydia hurried in. “What’s the matter?”
Panic growing, I turned. “He is no longer there.”
Her gaze expanded. “Elissa…” She gestured toward the floor.
With a knotted gut, I followed her gaze.
The floor of the tent, which led to the jungle, was coated with blood.
As though something had been pulled away, a deep, claw-like cut was made in the ground.
Or worse, someone.
Outside, a chilly wind howled.
And I realized at that very instant… Kane was a different person.