Trials of Dusk and Dreams: A Dark Romantasy by Lana Pecherczyk

Author:Lana Pecherczyk [Pecherczyk, Lana]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Lana Pecherczyk
Published: 2024-08-30T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 35

Bodin

Ijolt awake, muscles coiled tight. Straw crackles beneath my palms, grounding me in reality. Where am I? A pitiful whine cuts through the darkness . . . followed by snuffling . . . heavy breathing. The pungent musk of horses and manure assaults my nostrils—the stables.

My gaze darts around the dim space, seeking familiar anchors. Heart hammering, I drink in each shadowy shape, desperate to prove this isn’t another nightmare. Inevitably, my gaze locks on the cage housing the Wild Hunt pup. Its liquid black eyes bore into mine as it whimpers, pleading for release.

The little bastard pissed all over Fox’s statue. But that’s not why I’ve imprisoned it. No, the real reason is far more terrifying.

Phantom echoes of a woman’s taunting voice slither through my mind: “You’ll always kill the fragile, beautiful things you long to covet, to keep, to treasure.”

Shame lances through me as I recall Willow witnessing my terror. The Echo Wraith barely had to scratch the surface to find my deepest fears. I’ve exiled myself here because those blood-soaked golden feathers morphed into crushed strands of moonlit silk in my last dream—Willow’s hair.

The memory of Styx’s words haunts me: I once killed a bird, a canary. But the visceral sensation lingers—the sickening give of delicate bones collapsing within my fist, the crunch that still echoes in my nightmares. The soul-crushing realization of what I’d done. Something so small, so fragile, so trusting . . . it must have been a cherished pet. There’s no other explanation.

In my desperation to possess that bright, beautiful thing, I destroyed it.

I scrub my face with a calloused hand, glowering at the caged pup. Its presence reminds me of my fear—that I might somehow hurt it, too. And if I did, how could Willow ever accept me?

A chill races down my spine. She’s alone in the castle, at the mercy of a nightmare made flesh. The Echo Wraith must have slithered through a nearby watergate, drawn by our fears like a moth to a flame.

In my misguided attempt to protect her by keeping my distance, I’ve left her defenseless.

Fool.

My mind races, grasping for a strategy. Two things weaken an Echo Wraith: strong social bonds make it harder to isolate its victim, and light. If only Willow had been safely ensconced in my bed . . . or Varen’s . . . or anyone’s. She’d have been overlooked.

But I can’t change the past. I can only act now. Since I can’t conjure sunlight from my dark shadow magic, I need the real thing. I unearth a wooden torch from a nearby haystack, wrapping the end with more fuel-soaked rags before grabbing a flint.

The wildling whines again, clawing at its cage. It’s resourceful—it always finds a way to escape. I weigh my options, desperation clawing at my insides. I can’t let harm come to the wildling, but one Echo Wraith isn’t strong enough to kill it. The dragon might even help. The pest has a unique bond with Willow.

“Let’s go,” I growl, unlatching the cage.

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