Abolisher [Drothiker #2]

47.

The burning stopped.

Stopped—vanished.

Coldness seeped into her bones. Her mind felt as if it'd been boiled and ripped. Heart felt as if it'd been charred until it was black and unfeeling.

And her blood, her eyes, her limbs ... they were all numb.

As soon as she gained sensation of her body, she felt cold claws digging into her shoulders, felt something hard and brutal behind herself. A tree.

But the pain was long lost from her. She felt nothing, even the blood spilling from her shoulders felt cold against her burning red skin.

If anything, she felt dead.

Her head lulled against the tree she was pinned to. It took even the last ounce of energy to open her eyes.

Everything was a red blur.

Felset—Delaya. A red mess.

The sounds of her breaths echoed in her ears. The sounds of Faolin's and Ferouzeh's horrified breaths. Everything was too loud, too sharp.

So were the snarls and hisses in her ears.

Baeselk. Two. They were towering behind her, nailing her to the tree. She felt their wet breaths against her skin, felt its revolting hunger. But ... two baeselk ...

No—no, there were more present here. There were more breaths—

She blinked tight, reaching for her senses, her tortured mind.

Grunted.

But then she stopped breathing entirely when her eyes landed on whom the breaths belonged to.

Raocete. Eliver. Navy. Vurian. Levsenn. They all knelt in a line—eyes and faces vacant. Heads bowed. Hands tied behind with invisible ropes. Felset lingered a few steps from them.

And behind the queen stood the Jaguar in his animal form. Guarding her.

Still guarding her—still her dog.

Syrene snarled at him—the talons dug deeper in her shoulders. Blinding pain gushed her. Helpless and desperate, she could only rest her head against the tree as her breaths quickened, silent sobs came as gusts of raspy breaths from her gritted teeth.

"Hm," Felset pondered. "Only my ripper and my Second are missing."

Delaya snickered. "Worry not, the pretty prince will come scrambling to save her in no time. Wherever Syrene is, that's where Azryle is. And vice versa." She angled her head at Syrene. "Isn't that right?"

Syrene's chest pained as different claws grated her heart to bloody mess. When Azryle came here—

Felset's lips curled in scorn. "Let's start with these, then."

Her heart was beating hard enough that her hands began shaking with the echoes of it. Only when they stepped out of the Darkness did Syrene see the baeselk that loomed behind her kneeling friends.

Faolin made a sound of protest but it was cut short.

"Silence, sorceress," Delaya growled.

But Syrene heard none of it as she beheld the baeselk. Human—it looked so utterly human, the shape of it at least. But the face so horrendous that Syrene couldn't bear to look at it. Knew it would haunt her dreams.

If she lived.

Its skin was still wet sickly grey, like all the other baeselk. But his human shape was what had her whimpering in terror.