Page 254 of Vasmora

Two more fyredrakes stepped from behind the trees, stalking toward us.

“All three of them.”

“Quietly back out of the forest. It’ll be easier to defend ourselves if we can see the attack coming.”

“Why would they attack?” Brush crackled beneath my boots as I crossed the forest’s threshold, slowly backing toward the open yard.

The answer arrived the moment the drakes stepped into the unobscured stretch along the tree line. Their usually golden eyes had turned to a lifeless black that, from a distance, sank into their faces like hollow sockets. Chitinous fangs gleamed from two bulbous, black chelicerae that hung down from the front of their top lips.

“Mutations attacked earlier. I checked them for bites.” In a slow and subtle gesture, Zevander patted his thigh and chest, seeming to clock all his blades.

I wanted to ask him about the mutations but forced myself to stay focused. “Then, how?”

“Scavenging bastards must’ve eaten the spilled blood from the ground before I had the chance to burn it.”

As the first charged across the small distance that separated us, an arm knocked into my chest, throwing me back a step, as Zevander leapt in front of me, sword already swinging.

He struck fast, the blade carving a gash in the beast’s flank as it tried to veer left.

It let out a hearty yelp, grinding to a tumbling stop before it crashed into the ground.

A roar thundered across the lawn as the other two barreled forward.

Zevander met them halfway and ducked out of the way of a thrashing tail, his reflexes impossibly fast. Crouched low, he yanked his dagger free and lashed it across one of the creature’s legs.

The drake let out a roar, stumbling to the side, while the other lurched, fangs snapping toward Zevander’s shoulder.

Zevander pivoted, and one swift thrust of his sword sank it into the creature’s throat.

Sensing movement at my back, I turned to find the first one he’d wounded clambering to its feet, baring those wicked fangs as it growled back at me. The wound at its flank snagged my attention, where black veins pulsed and the thud of pumping blood reached my ears. Its heartbeat. I must’ve stood a good fifteen meters away from the creature, and yet, I could hear it as though I were right beside him. As I stepped toward it, the thudding hastened, though from excitement or fear, I couldn’t tell.

Raising my palm brought a surge of icy heat to the surface of my skin, and I closed my eyes, envisioning the fyredrake’s heart pumping inside my mind. I clenched my hand to a fist and watched the image of black fluids pouring out of valves, spreading into translucent arteries. The sound of muffled whimpering drew my eyes open as the beast collapsed to the ground. Its body heaved with labored breaths, and from the wound, spread a brown rot that chewed away its scales, revealing glistening brown meat beneath.

Zevander strode up alongside me, both of us watching as the meat fell away from the bones and slopped on the snow-white ground.

A putrid stench, like festering decay, carried on the air, and I held the back of my hand to my mouth to stifle the urge to retch.

Within moments, the beast let out one long sigh and stilled, and I opened my fist to find a silver scar across my palm. Unlike a glyph, it didn’t glow, but burned and sizzled like molten steel biting into my flesh.

A chill rippled at the back of my neck and spread to my limbs in a rush of ice. My hands turned clammy, heart racing with shallow breaths. A heavy grayness settled over my eyes, my vision narrowing. A wave of nausea bloomed in my chest and my knees buckled.

Before I hit the ground, strong hands locked around my torso, hauling me upright. My surroundings spun once, then stilled, sharpening.

“Are you alright?” Zevander’s voice arrived as an echo that honed into its usual resonant pitch.

“I felt … dizzy.” Deep breaths chased away the lingering chill in my chest, and I straightened.

“I’ve never seen anything like that,” Zevander said beside me, his gaze burning in my periphery.

“I felt something strange.”

“Strange?”

“Its life fading. I took it.” I stared down at my hands that hadn’t even touched the beast. Mere will had stolen its life as easily as crushing a moth in my palm.

“You’ve agreed to be the usher of death. I suspect you’ll stumble upon abilities you didn’t know you had.”

“That’s certainly nothing new, but this is different.” Dangerous. “I’ve never felt weakness like that afterward, though.”