Bloodlines: Dragon Rider Book 2

Chapter 52: From the Goddess to the Storm

Norah

Fear sloshes over me, each wave colder than the last.

There is no light. No surface. No end to the storm.

It rages and twists, sending me staggering in all directions. Thunder cracks somewhere deep inside the storm but there is no lightning. Only darkness.

The wind slams me to the ground. I cling to the earth, straining to hear over the raging storm and crunching of earth. Like rock on rock ground beneath a stone wheel.

Cold fingers brush my cheek and my skin pricks. I whirl, taking deep plunging breaths.

The cloud parts around me, leaving me stranded in the center of a twister. I don't dare reach for it, to brush my fingers on the clouds darker than night. They are so black they consume the light.

A mass shifted behind me; a giant shroud so empty it seems like a black hole. One so cold and dark ice would creep up my fingers if I touched it, freezing flesh and blood and nerve. Not even light dared to go near it.

"Who are you?" wonders a man, his voice so deep and booming my heart sinks. "How did you arrive in my realm?"

Realization ignites my nerves like a hundred flames. My mind spins, recalling lessons and memories.

"I don't know." Wind dries my mouth and I have a hard time swallowing the lump in my throat.

He does not say anything after that. But I feel him watching me--studying me.

I do not move. Do not give him any reason to take offense and strike.

Something nudges my back, right between my shoulder blades. I look behind me, never moving my body.

Darkness seeps out of the storm, coalescing into a long, curling tendril. It jerks back when I see it, resembling a startled cat too curious for its own good. Slowly, it's needle-like point rises to my nose. My muscles stiffen, holding perfectly still as darkness presses to my nose.

Its touch is light, soft and curious.

I don't know whether to feel at ease or more on edge.

Pain shoots up my arms and wraps around my nose. Then it's gone, dropping back down my chest, beneath my shirt, and back down my arms where my tendrils slither.

The darkness pokes my cheek and the pain follows. My tendrils follow, rising to meet his.

"May I ask what you're doing, Etin?" I ask kindly, eyeing him.

This is how mortals should be. Worshipping their God, she'd said. So I will give him what he wants. To know that he is superior.

But I am also no fool. Etin is no longer the God of Preservation but the God of Destruction. Whatever torture Khalixis can imagine, his will be worse.

"You are a mortal," he says, more to himself than me. He doesn't sound angry, but he isn't happy either. "Yet you possess my darkness."

I blink and the curiosity etching my face is not faked. Slowly, so he will not think me striking him, I bring my hand to the tendril. Still, he recoils slightly, then leans in and the sharp end breaks into five fingers identical to mine.

I press one finger to one of his and Etin does not move. My tendrils rise up, meeting like for like.

When he does not seem keen on saying anything else, I say, "you're Etin."