Page 67 of Godbound
The night streets of Viele are quiet, distant laughter spilling from taverns like an afterthought. I shiver as the night air bites into my skin, my tunic’s thin fabric offering little protection.
I glance at Kaelzar, his presence looming like a shadow at my side.
“Not going to offer a lady your cloak?” I ask, teeth chattering slightly.
“No,” comes the curt reply, his tone cold enough to match the chill in the air.
A flicker of annoyance sparks within me, but before I can retort, warmth envelops me.
I glance down at my arms, where darkness wraps around me like a comforting blanket. It moves, liquid and weightless, curling around my body before settling.
“Why is this shadow warm?” I ask, cautious curiosity threading through my voice. I run my fingers through the darkness at my elbows, half-expecting it to dissipate. It doesn’t.
Kaelzar doesn’t answer at first. Instead, he raises a hand, fingers barely twitching. The warmth at my shoulders flares briefly, as if obeying some invisible command, then settles again.
“This is a shadow of a fireplace,” he says finally.
I look at him, waiting for more, but the silence stretches. I frown, tilt my head, and jab a finger toward my boot.
“And that,” I say with mock solemnity, “is the foot you’ll taste if I have to keep prying words out of your secretivemouth.”
The corners of Kaelzar’s mouth twitch. “Then I insist it be washed first, before your command forces me into the noble servitude of tasting your foot.” His voice dips lower, amusement threading through each word.
“Servitude?” I scoff, a smile tugging at my mouth. “I was thinking a polite kick to the jaw.”
His brow arches, teasing me with that maddening calm. “Oh? It sounded like you were about to order me to participate in one of your fanta?—”
“Enough,” I hiss. Every threat, every remark, turns into something absurd when Kaelzar is involved. My alcohol-dulled mind struggles to stay focused.
I eye him carefully, weighing my next words. “So, you do have to follow my orders then,” I say. “Good. I order you to explain what you mean by ‘a shadow of a fireplace’.”
For a moment, the warmth around me flares again, then dulls. Like a living thing resisting before relenting.
Instead of answering, he shifts. Shadows spill from his hands, running down like liquid before hardening into shape. Two black swords, long and slightly curved, their edges jagged and uneven. They look brutal, built to maim.
But I feel no fear. Only the strange, magnetic urge to reach out and touch them.
Kaelzar moves toward a nearby street lamp, its oil-fed flame casting a long shadow along the wall of the building beside it. He steps into the glow, raises one sword that looks impossibly heavy, and reaches for the shadow on the wall.
I brace for the sound of scraping stone. But instead, the serrated blade sinks into the shadow as if it were flesh. The wall remains untouched, yet the shadow yields with a strange softness.
Then, with a sudden, brutal motion, Kaelzar slices it free.
For a breathless second, I swear I see it tear—seams splitting like skin, the edges unraveling with the wet sound of meat being ripped from the spine. The light from the streetlamp flickers once then steadies again.
My jaw slackens as a ribbon of darkness crawls up the blade, then coils up his arm, slithering like something alive. The blades dissolve in an instant, bursting into a puff of shadow. Kaelzar holds out his hand, letting the dark mass writhe across his palm like a trained creature.
It moves with quiet obedience, as if it had always belonged there.
I should be focused on the unnerving show of his magic, but instead, my attention is focused on his ruined, scar-riddled palm. Kaelzar notices my stare, and closes his hand.
“My magic allows me to manipulate the shadows I take,” he says at last.
My gaze drops to my own shadow beneath the streetlamp. A creeping wrongness settles over me.
“Can you takeanyshadow?”
Kaelzar’s gaze flicks to the ground. “Yes.” Then he meets my eyes. “And if I want it to hurt, I rip it away with my hands in a similar way I just showed you,” he says, his voice soft but menacing, and I wonder if there is a warning in his tone.
