Soulfire (Song of Souls 2 by Christen Stovall

Author:Christen Stovall [Stovall, Christen]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Boundless Fantasy
Published: 2016-11-03T04:00:00+00:00

Seeing Spirits

Ciaran could feel the ropes digging into his wrists, tearing at already torn flesh. His arms were outstretched and bound over his head, his shirt ripped and exposing the unmarked skin of his back to the cruelty of his captors. He wasn’t sure whether the goosebumps on his arms and torso were from the cold or the fear of the whip that the hobgoblin held, but he knew that there was nothing he could do to save himself. That unbearable connection of leather and flesh was coming. Soon the whip would crack in the air and snap across his back, splitting skin and digging into muscle.

Ciaran looked to the side of the flogging stand, where Aislynn was bound. She watched him, her eyes emotionless and empty. He was going to endure this for her, yet she didn’t cry out. Even as his mind asked why, a single tear fell from her right eye and rolled down her cheek. The tear froze in its downward progress, turned dark, and spread across her face from mouth to ear, like a purple bruise on her porcelain skin.

Ciaran wanted to reach for her, to soothe away the pain that masked her features, but a sudden shift of movement drew his awareness to the hobgoblin behind him. Though his vision was impaired, Ciaran knew, without a doubt, that the wielder of the whip had drawn his arm back. There was a second of energy and then the terrible explosive crack that heralded the whip’s bite. The lash snapped against Ciaran with devilish, searing accuracy. He could feel blood ooze from the wound. It rolled down his torso, mirroring the tears that fell from Aislynn’s eyes.

Ciaran violently jolted to awareness, crying out in dream induced pain. His whole body was clammy with sweat and his heart raced. The scars that marred his back, despite magical healing, tingled with the agony of the memory. He shuddered and took a calming breath then slowly released it. The ghost sensations faded but it was harder to banish the lingering sense of helplessness and fear.

The nightmares weren’t common, but had happened from time to time since his coronation, once the bulk of the carnage from the battle was cleaned away. However, in the past week the dreams of fear and pain had increased to an almost nightly regularity. The terrible carnage of the lamia attack, paired with his fear for Aislynn’s safety, brought the memory of the hobgoblins to the forefront of Ciaran’s mind. The captivity was the first time in his life that Ciaran understood how it felt to be considered lower than the dirt under foot. He didn’t think he would ever forget the humiliation and pain of the hobgoblin torture.

With another heavy sigh, Ciaran rolled from his stomach to his back and silently counted the seconds it took for his pulse to slow. Wearily, he wiped his hands over his face, climbed out of bed, and crossed to a nearby basin. He splashed the water on his face.

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