When Nelle Wychthorn was forced to sign herself away in marriage, she should have read the contract's fine print. Because she signs not with ink, but with blood. And that changes everything.
Season 1 'Of Crows and Thorns'
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Fiery Nelle, the isolat...
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My father had no idea how much stronger this creature inside me was. No one did. Every dawn and every dusk, I ran through the woods alone. No prying eyes. No one to see what I did when I unleashed its powers. I didn't know what it was. I could control it, wield it to a point, but it was almost its own thing and I was merely a vessel.
Giving a furious hiss, the dark power thrashed so forcefully that it rocked my body.
"Fuck, Wychthorn," Graysen hissed. His grip tightened around my waist, steadying my stance and keeping me flush against his body.
I barely heard him. I was barely able to think.
I imagined my hands grappling with whatever it was, crumpling it into a ball, like a piece of paper I wanted to toss into a litter bin. Mentally, I held it down and pinned it.
My dark power writhed and fought and howled—Let me see. Let me taste. Let me go!
My fingers ground against the adamere beads—I bow to no one—and that included the thing inside me.
But a sickly coppery smell tainted the air. Blood. Too much blood.
Too many dark and hungry souls surrounded me.
Too much wretched suffering infused the ancient tomb.
Like sang to like—and my own blood fevered for the cruel power standing on the dais.
My lips moved, silently repeating my mantra over and over again. "My roots are deep, my strength is stone, my breath the wind. I bow to none."
It wanted out. It wanted to taste. It wanted to be set free.
LET ME OUT!
My skin itched. My blood fizzed. Fat beads of sweat burst along my hairline.
LET ME OUT! LET ME OUT! LET ME OUT!
I sucked in great ragged gulps of air. My throat felt scorched raw as if it were on fire.
The creature roared—LET ME OUT NOW!
I wouldn't. I couldn't.
It vibrated inside, shuddering my bones as it bunched its raw magic into a concentrated ball of fury.
