Page 249 of Vasmora

Allura elbowed her in the rib. “You told me that you wanted something for sleep.”

“That, too.”

Clearing his throat, Dolion scratched his head. “I’m afraid I’ve nothing for demons, but I can help you with sleep. But first, might you help me with something, Allura? A bit of a mystery has fallen into my lap.”

“Of course.” She continued down the staircase. “What is it?”

“This symbol here.” Dolion handed her the bone and pointed to the carving on it.

As she studied the object, her brows pulled tight, eyes fluttered closed and she gently ran a finger over it. “He was Corvikae. A warrior. There was a ritual. They were trapped. All of them … suffocating.” She opened her eyes on a gasp. “Cursed.”

“By the Lunasier?”

“I don’t know. This bone predates the others we’ve studied by at least two thousand years.”

“The bones that flew out of Maevyth’s palm?” Rykaia asked, and when Allura nodded, she ran her finger over its surface. “Ugh. That doesn’t feel like bone. It feels like …” She grimaced. “It feels like the boiled snake egg Magdah tried to feed me this morning. Repulsive.”

Dolion jerked his head. “Come with me, Allura. I want to show you something.”

Rykaia sighed and threw up her arms. “I might as well come along for the ride. I’m certainly not going to suffer the mood of a stubborn goddess who thinks she’s going to win my brother’s affections.”

As Dolion made his way back down the passage toward Branimir, he awkwardly looked back at her. “Have you and Maevyth suffered a disagreement?”

Her eyes narrowed. “It isn’t Maevyth. It’s the invader attempting to ascend into Maevyth’s body.”

“Invader?” Dolion asked.

“Zevander hasn’t told you?”

“Told me what?”

“Oh, good grief, where do I begin? Maevyth was working on a puzzle in that book you gave her. She couldn’t figure out the Primyrian word for Death. I told her to ask Zevander, but she apparently didn’t ask. Later, I found her lying unconscious.”

As she prattled on, Dolion focused on her words, trying to keep up.

“I tried to wake her, but she wouldn’t budge. Then Zevander tried to wake her.” She waved her hands around. “Lo and behold, she wakes. So, then the mutations showed up and–”

Dolion frowned, glancing back at her, and ground to a halt just before they reached the cells. “Mutations? Where?”

“Here.” Rykaia shook her head. “By the gods, Dolion, where have you been?”

“Playing with spiders.”

She expelled a sharp breath and waved her hand again. “So, as I was saying, mutations showed up, and Morsana, or Maevyth,” she whispered with a wink, “comes out of the castle and blows up their guts like it’s white bean pottage night at the Blacksalt Tavern. Then she has the audacity to speak to me as if we aren’t friends anymore, and decides she’s going to glut herself on wine. My wine!” She hmphed, crossing her arms. “I knew the gods were cunts, but I had no idea they were mannerless cunts.”

Dolion stroked his long, white beard. “Where does Morsana become relevant?”

“Well, by the merging of the moons, if Zevander doesn’t seduce Maevyth with his flame, the wretch who’s inhabited her body will ascend, and we’ll be stuck with her.”

What she described was far more serious than she may have realized. If Morsana ascended, what they knew of Maevyth would be no more. Her soul, her very essence, would be lost up until Morsana released her. If she bothered to release her, at all. “Oh, gods.”

“Yes. Oh, fucking gods. I am quite exhausted of them.”

Allura sailed a scowl back at her. “Language, Rykaia.”

Dolion gripped his chin, his mind spinning with thoughts. “I have to help him. If Morsana ascends, then Maevyth will be trapped in …”

“Caligorya? Yes. Exactly.”