Lodestone by Katherine Forrister

Author:Katherine Forrister [Forrister, Katherine]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: GenZ Publishing
Published: 2021-04-19T18:30:00+00:00

Melaine cried out as crystal decanters and glass baubles exploded around her, shooting shards at the walls and windows of the hearth room adjoining her bedroom. She shielded her head until all was still. She darted her eyes to the guard statue outside of her room, still within sight. It remained dormant, wreathed in confining vines. Normally, she would have been in her room at this time of night, but she needed more space to work. She hoped, as long as she stayed within the statue’s sights, it wouldn’t compel her to return to her bedroom should it wake.

She looked away from the statue and cringed at the sparkle of a glass sliver embedded in her finger, punctured capillaries spilling blood through her split skin. Drops hit the glass shards around her, spreading on the surfaces and running along their edges until the red liquid hit the stone floor.

Whispers seeped from the floor in indistinguishable words. Melaine strained her ears as her heart thudded against her chest. The whispers were haunting and many. They pulsed with ancient magic that smelled of decay and buried secrets. Her throat went dry as if she’d inhaled a cloud of smoke or ash. She coughed and tried to clear her throat, rubbing a hand over her mouth.

The whispers…. They were the same as the ones within the ancient urn she had smashed. But she was nowhere near the urn or its ash-covered shards. Had she released something? If so…what?

Melaine took a freeing breath and twitched the sliver of glass free from its invasion of her fingerprint. She raised her other hand, which held the Overlord’s wand, to compel the shattered glass to re-form into useless trinkets. She then concentrated on lifting the blood drops from the floor, but it was as if the stone had soaked them in like a sponge to feed the whispers that kept filling the air with an undercurrent of sorrow and fear. She wanted to scream at them to stop.

Something crunched the broken glass in the curtained doorway that connected to the sitting room of her quarters. The magic she had summoned to clean up the blood halted in its tracks through her pathway of veins. She looked up and froze when she saw the shadowed form of the Overlord watching her from the arched doorway.

The whispers collapsed into a collective whimper and ceased.

“My lord,” she uttered. She licked her lips and pushed herself off the floor. “I’m sorry if I disturbed you. I was practicing.”

Melaine expected a soft taunt in reply or perhaps the hint of a smile, but none came. The Overlord simply watched her, his eyes gleaming from the shadows.

“My lord?” Melaine said. She took a small step toward him. “My lord. Are you…awake?”

The Overlord still said nothing. Perhaps he was sleepwalking again. But the way he stared at her was not with the vague, restless eyes of a dreamer. His eyes were keen. They were hungry.

Melaine’s heart picked up speed. “Say something,” she said with a wary frown, her sense of danger weighing down her sense of respect.

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