Page 147 of Vasmora

The two of them hung cocooned and helpless against the wall.

King Sagaerin let out a cry of pain and collapsed to the ground as the spiders swarmed over him.

“Sagaerin! My king!” Dolion’s outcry echoed around them.

With slow and careful steps, Cadavros approached the berserker, who convulsed and shook. “This is what you thought would protect you?” The mage tsked and shook his head. “There isn’t a force in this world strong enough to rival a god’s power.” His mouth stretched wide, impossibly so, expanding his jaw. He clamped his cavernous mouth over the berserker’s head, and the beast whimpered and shook as Cadavros tipped him upward and swallowed him into his body.

Dolion’s jaw hung in horror, his breaths shaking out of him with every exhale.

When the feet of the berserker disappeared down his throat, the soldier twitched and trembled, the sound of splintering bones and tearing flesh drowning the king’s muffled cries. Muscles bulged and shrank then bulged again. Tusks slid from his top lip.

In a matter of seconds, the soldier morphed from a slender mancer to the hulking build of the berserker.

“Gods save us,” Allura whispered.

Twisting his arms out in front of him, Cadavros took in his new form and smiled. “I will possess the strength of every Aethyrian bloodline. And soon, you will have no means of defense.”

“Cadavros, if there is any good left inside of you, you will fight this,” Dolion said through clenched teeth.

“I am neither good, nor evil. I am a god.” He strode toward the king, reaching through the cluster of spiders that scattered and turned to smoke.

Sagaerin lay unmoving, his eyes shuttered. Skinny black veins pulsed across his neck and over his face, similar to those on Zevander’s.

Cadavros lifted the amulet out of Sagaerin’s robe and tore it away from the king. He held it up, head tipped as he watched it dangle in his grasp. “I will be free.”

“No!” Dolion thrashed against the silken threads, wrenching his shoulders back and forth. “Don’t do this. I’m begging you. As an old friend.”

“Goodbye, old friend.” Cadavros glanced to Dolion and back to Sagaerin. “When he wakes, I suspect he’ll be starving.”

On those parting words, Cadavros vanished into black smoke.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

MAEVYTH

Istood beside Zevander, staring up at the dark sky, where lightning flickered and illuminated the veil of clouds. Morning would arrive soon, yet it seemed as if night would prevail. “Even Mortasia saw daylight,” I said, wrapping a blanket tighter around me.

“Pestilios still slumbered then.”

Lothare strode toward us, occasionally glancing skyward. “We’ll ready the horses and prepare to leave immediately.”

Zevander nodded, hands brushing his hip, chest, and thighs as he checked his weapons for the half-dozenth time. Perhaps the only evidence that he might’ve felt as nervous as I did.

We followed Lothare toward camp, where one of more than a couple dozen horses awaited us, along with Lothare’s men and the wolves.

Growls, not quite as deep as those made by the razorwolves, drew my attention toward a terrifying figure standing off from the other men.

The bloodbinder.

While half his face still gleamed in metal, what had once been the normal half had shifted into the elongated canine snout and sharp teeth that could rip through flesh. Alert, pointed ears stuck up from his head, and he still wore the purple monocle over his one good eye. Stood upright on thick, muscled haunches, his body covered in russet fur, his upper half held more human qualities, with a long torso, collarbone and arms, but his razor-sharp claws thrashed at the air, like something feral, and he snarled, held back by a chain attached to his neck.

In contrast, the wolves prowling around him seemed to be more civilized.

One of the men whistled, and seconds later, a rider could be seen in the distance, galloping toward the camp. Long, blond hair flew in tangles behind her as she brought her horse to a halt and hopped off. Brown skin glistening with sweat, she panted for breath, her muscles slack.

From the saddle, she gathered overflowing sacks of what looked like loaves of bread and handed them off to one of the men. “For your travels.”

He nodded, accepting the gift, and she strode her way toward Lothare.