Page 40 of Spellcast
“Wh-what’s happening?” I demand, not really expecting an explanation.
Even if they understand me, even if they want to communicatewith me, they can’t. Keen-eyed and intelligent they may be, but human they are not.
I glance around wildly as the mist shrouds everything in a blanket of white. Even the dragons. I no longer see them.
They no longer see me.
This might be my only chance. My opportunity to escape in the blanket of milk-white air.
I hunch low and slink away, still aware of the great, monstrous body nearby, the onyx dragon a pulsing presence even amid the camouflage of gusting fog.
Moving sideways, I lose myself in the vapor, grateful for its presence, for the swelling miasma. I clamp my lips closed so my frightened breath can’t be heard, pretending I am still that invisible girl. It’s not hard to do. I’ve lived that way for so long.
For years I could not get anyone to see me, but now, when it’s mostinconvenient, when it’s a threat to my very existence, my enemies can see me. The cruel unfairness of it overwhelms me.
I slip through rolling fog, making myself as small as possible, easing slowly, carefully, hoping that I’m moving in the right direction and that I don’t bump into one of them.
The fog is a condition of life in the north, but I’ve never seen it as dense as this, so thick I feel it like a hand on my skin. Not that I’m complaining. Not if it permits me to escape, to vanish into the vapor...to survive.
The dragons make all kinds of sounds, clearly communicating with each other.
I pinpoint the onyx dragon’s voice. It’s deeper and more guttural than the others...but there’s also a quality to it. A biting authority. I may not understand the meaning behind the sounds, but I recognize he is in command.
The four of them grow louder, agitated, huffing and snapping.
And I know. They’re looking for me.
They may have created the fog that obscured me, but now they’ve lost me in it.
Suddenly a burst of light cuts through the vapor. I freeze amid the popping and crackling sound, looking toward the sudden illumination even as the brightness fades and disappears, the air returning to fog.
Then I hear something Idounderstand.
It’s unmistakable. A human voice. Deep and undeniably male. “You, there, girl. Don’t be afraid.”
It’s a man.Alive.A survivor?
My pulse flutters against my throat.
A man, but he cannot be speaking to me. Humans don’t see me. They definitely do notspeaktome.
I peer into the milky vapor as though I will find someone there, materializing through the mist like a dream come alive.
A few moments pass. Nothing. No one. And yet the sound of that voice still rings in my head. Someone is clearly not...dead. There is a survivor in the vicinity of fog and smoke and ash, and he is talking tome.
He sees me.
My mind struggles with this, my heart beating harder and faster, threatening to burst from my chest that already hurts and aches.
Perhaps my curse was lifted?
It’s too much to believe, to dare hope, but maybe, justmaybethe witch finally put an end to the spell she cast after all this time, in this moment of destruction and death and misery.
Perhaps she decided I had been tormented enough and ended the curse in a flash of compassion.
Or...
What if she is dead? As dead as everyone else in the ruins of my life.
