Page 224 of Vasmora

Trembling from the cold, I swept my gaze over the gloom of my surroundings. “This is the Crussurian Trench. Where you’re trapped,” I said, and when she nodded, I shook my head, frowning. “How? You’re death. You carry souls to the afterlife.”

“Souls in peril don’t need to be carried. They are drawn to me.” She raised her hand, and all the bodies trapped in the roots let out a pleading moan as they shifted then stilled.

I stared down at the rosehip in my palm. “This is how I set you free?”

“By consuming it, you consume my power.”

“I thought I already housed your power.”

She waved her hand and sauntered toward the fossilized mother figure. “A pittance. You are capable of so much more, Maevyth.” She stroked a hand over the woman’s head, and the mother writhed before settling.

“The woman in the tree. What happened to her?”

“She was murdered. Cast into the Trench by those who feared her power.”

“Solassions?”

“All of Magekae’s spawn.” The tone of her voice held a venomous bite.

I remembered having learned that he was the god of creation. Immortality.

“You cannot defeat Pestilios without my help.” Morsana stepped so graciously, she practically glided toward me.

“Zevander’s power is–”

“Not enough.”

It was inconceivable that something so destructive could be insufficient. “And if I refuse?”

She waved her hand, and the scene around us shifted and blurred.

I clamped my eyes shut, the abrupt movement dizzying.

Shouts and screams had me opening my eyes to spiders ascending from the trees on silken webs. Thousands of them.

Arms covering my head, I searched above me for a gap, a means to get away from them. A soft skittering over my arm drew my attention to a small one that darted over my elbow. Panic gurgled in my throat, and I swiped at it, knocking the spider to the ground.

A hollow wail echoed through the trees.

I turned to see a swarm of spiders crawling over Rykaia and Dolion, as the two wriggled and screamed. Zevander clawed at his sister, scraping the spiders off her. “Is this real?”

“It is a very real possibility. Zevander can destroy Cadavros. He can reduce Pestilios’s power, but he cannot stop him without you. Us.”

I lurched toward them, and my muscles locked, a deep cramp stiffening my limbs as something took hold of me. “Let me help them!”

“Maevyth! Please!” Rykaia cried out.

Wriggling against the invisible binds proved futile, my body refusing to move at my command. “Please! Release me!”

Morsana drifted closer and ran her long, silver nail down the length of my arm. “There is only one way to help her.”

The rigid stiffness of the only arm she touched loosened, the rosehip still captured in my palm.

Rykaia let out another scream, and I winced, shaking my head.

“No. I won’t. I won’t do it.”

“You would watch them die?” Morsana prodded.