Page 31 of Vasmora

Lips pressed together, Dolion curled his hands into fists. “If I could get my hands on some vivicantem, I could at least hasten some of your healing.”

“Unless you can turn stone to liquid …”

The old mage raised a brow. “It so happens I can. I’m not quite as skilled as those who possess the blood magic to do so, but given the circumstances, quality isn’t the priority.”

Zevander pushed out of the chair and strode with a hitch in his step toward the small Golvyn door, knocking three times against it. When the small, rat-like creature appeared, he was already holding a thimble-sized stone of the vivicantem Zevander had tasked him to hide away.

“Apologies, Master. I heard through the walls.”

Zevander nodded. “Less time wasted. Thank you.”

“Of course.” He offered a half-smile and shut himself back inside the wall.

“How long will this take?” Zevander handed the stone to Dolion, who held it up to the light.

“I have to determine the right potency, of course, and dissolve the bits of stone. An hour at most?”

Zevander growled and limped his way back toward the table. “I don’t have an hour.”

“Or less! I’ll get to work right away. It should restore your form enough for travel.”

“You’d have time to take a quick bath,” Rykaia added. “I’m certain Maevyth will appreciate it.”

“I’m certain Maevyth doesn’t give a damn about anything at the moment. The last thing she saw was my fall into the great chasm.”

Dolion swung around so fast, his robes chased the turn. “You fell into the chasm and survived?”

“You’re supposed to be getting to work on that vivicantem.”

“Yes, of course, of course.”

“I know she’s strong enough to survive Loyce, but I–” He winced at the memories of trying to take his own life after finding out his family had been slaughtered.

Rykaia gripped his arm firmly, gaze unwavering. “She’s too damn stubborn, Brother. Have faith that she will fight to live.”

He’d heard his sister’s words, but his thoughts were too focused to acknowledge them. “If anything happens to her …” A fresh wave of fury pulsed through him, and Zevander snarled at the tormenting images flashing through his mind. “War will be the least of all consequences.”

CHAPTER NINE

MAEVYTH

“Iwill not obey.”

“I will not obey,” the mimicrow echoed in Zevander’s strained and frantic voice.

“I will not beg for mercy.”

“I will not beg for mercy.”

I lay with my cheek pressed to the floor, scratching my metallic nail over the words etched into the stone. My body remained in a constant state of trembling, always cold.

Always trapped in darkness.

It’d been days since Morsana had come to me, and I hadn’t seen nor spoken to the goddess since. Perhaps I’d only dreamed the encounter.

Live.

Live.