Page 1 of Vasmora

CHAPTER ONE

MAEVYTH

Come back to me.

I sagged like deadweight in the Solassion soldier’s grasp, my legs numb and heavy, feet slipping over the forest’s dying underbrush. The thick canopy of trees made it seem as though darkness had fallen. Or perhaps it was the unbearable pall of grief that’d sapped the light from my world.

Agony pulsed in my cheekbone and eye, and the brutal wrath of General Loyce still vibrated through my jaw, as I stared over my shoulder at the ominous entry to Mortasia. The passage that'd sealed, trapping me on the immortal side of the Umbravale with strangers I barely knew.

And somewhere in the depths of the bottomless chasm between worlds, Zevander lay broken.

Unreachable.

Gone.

The phantom brush of his hand lingered across my palm, his promises swallowed by that starving abyss.

Please live. His final words pounded through my head.

I winced, hands curled to fists, wishing I could spit them from my memory. That I could throttle the universe for its selfish greed.

How bitter, the taste of resentment. To have watched the whole of my existence crumble in one split second with the expectation that I would move on, live, was an egregious injustice I couldn’t bear to swallow. Nothing but cruel amusement for the gods.

“I want to see for myself. Ocaelo, show me.” The general’s voice, too close, crawled over me like insects, while her pacing alongside me prickled my skin.

The scrape and rattle of armor from behind signaled a soldier moving at command. One of a dozen, or so, who’d formed a circle around Kazhimyr, Dravien and me, two of them either side of Kazhimyr. Thanks to a curse that’d been burned into our wrists, rendering us powerless, only physical strength remained at our disposal, but even that was waning with every ruthless strike of their golden fists.

I didn’t manage so much as a glimpse of an approaching soldier, before cold gripped my skull without warning, and as my muscles locked, frozen, a memory tore through my head at a pace too fast to grasp. I clamped my eyes against the pressure building behind them.

Zevander standing with his arms outstretched. A swarm of the infected descending upon him. Slipping over the edge of the chasm. Reaching through the barrier for him. Sad eyes staring up at me. “Please … live.” Blackness swallowing. Consuming.

Falling.

Falling.

Falling.

A crushing pain vised my chest, as if Zevander had yanked my heart from between the bones of its cage and taken it with him. The grip on my neck released, and I drew a sharp breath. My eyes shot open as I flopped forward, breathing hard through my nose, and my heart hammered in my chest as a harsh reminder that the damned organ still pulsed with life.

A quivering moment of quiet followed, the air thick with despair.

“You did this.” The general’s words seethed out of her. “You killed him.”

Rage and misery tore through me with a violent shudder, and I pivoted around, my fist cutting toward her face.

She grabbed my wrist with her gauntleted hand before I could make contact, her lips pulling to a snarl. “Good. The fight will make this far more satisfying.” With reflexes faster than my brain could clock them, she cracked the back of her ungloved hand across my cheek.

Shocks of pain shot into my sinuses and skull, but cold adrenaline pulled at my muscles, and I aimlessly swiped out at her, raking my claws over her delicate flesh.

Horror flashed across her face as her hand pressed to three deep cuts at her cheek.

On instinct, I backed up a step.

“You will pay dearly.” A stomach-churning fury burned in her gaze as she lurched toward me.

“No!” Kazhimyr’s voice echoed from behind. “Leave her!”

She drew back her fist, and I couldn’t help but flinch, already knowing the bite of that metal and the copper on my tongue.