by Plum Pascal
My senses are sharp and I don’t detect anyone near the small clearing, but it’s only a matter of time before something emerges from behind the swirling, dark fog around the city. What’s more, the cold mist that hangs around us has saturated the ground and surrounding trees.
“That should protect us for the time being,” I say.
Thoradin nods soberly. “Even so, we must keep sentry over the camp at all times.”
“And we must build a fire,” I add.
The fire is important not only for heat—the light will also encourage the less-than-friendly inhabitants of the Raven Forest to keep away. Light is the antidote to darkness, and the creatures that occupy this forest are of the shadows.
I glance at the three beings of the light and sigh. It’s only a matter of time before they become as icy and damp as their surroundings. As if to confirm this thought, I see Flumph shiver.
While I have no concern over the little winged devil, I know Eilish and Cambion will be following suit shortly. I approach the angel cautiously, as if my footsteps will wake her. Placing my hand atop hers, I use the Gaze Of Two Minds charm to meld my senses to hers. At once, I feel a flood of pain and exhaustion. A shiver racks my body so violently, I nearly bite my tongue. Quickly, I remove my hand, and my senses become my own again.
Thoradin doesn’t make any move toward starting the fire. It’s customary for him to do my bidding without question, but I see the lines of his mouth harden in protest.
“You’re worried a fire will attract attention?” I ask.
He hesitates. “We’ve come to a very dangerous place, liege.”
The high-pitched hum of Flumph’s wings informs me he’s hovering directly over my shoulder. I fight the urge to swat him.
“Yeah, I wasn’t gonna say nothin’, but since he did, I’ll second it. You got some shitty taste in ‘commodations, Lord Night Prince.”
As he speaks, it becomes harder to not hit him; I growl a low warning instead and the whirring of his wings grows quieter as he flies out of reach.
“We didn’t have a choice,” I say darkly. “Thoradin and I were in the process of taking our stone form. We had to return to the Shadow Realm.” I breathe in deeply.
“An’ what’s gonna happen to us?” the sprite asks, motioning to Cambion and the angel.
“Yes, this isn’t the best place for you, but it’s the only place where we have a chance to hide and not be found.”
“Then, what? You jist gonna let the Shadow Realm kill us lil by lil?” asks the annoying sprite.
“No, because we won’t be in the Shadow Realm for much longer.”
“Where we goin’?”
“Grimreap.”
The sprite appears confused. “Ain’t Grimreap in the Shadow Realm?”
“Grimreap isn’t fully shadow,” I respond.
“What?” the sprite frowns. “I thought we was in the Shadow Realm ‘cause you ain’t turnin’ to stone no more.”
“The Raven Forest is the Shadow Realm, yes.” I nod. “But Grimreap isn’t so easily explained. The divisions between the Fae, Mortal, and the Shadow Realm aren’t always clear. And in some locations, those lines are fully blurred.”
“What you talkin’ ‘bout?” Flumph demands, plopping his hands on his round hips.
In general, I don’t enjoy explaining myself. Especially not to nosy and irksome sprites. But there’s a time for explanations, and that time is now. “There are areas that exist in more than one plane at the same time—the Tree of Shadows is one such location. These are places where the edges separating the planes become blurred. Edges where each of us can exist simultaneously. Grimreap is one such edge.”
“What’s he goin’ on about?” Flumph asks Thoradin.
“Long ago, before the humans were expunged from the world, hundreds of mortals, fae, and shadow-folk alike lived and died in Grimreap,” Thoradin tells him. “Those spirits continue on, allowing each of us to coexist where, ordinarily, your kind would perish.”
The sprite frowns as though he still doesn’t understand. I curse the bloody imbecile but clarify anyway. “The land is shared by ghosts of all three realms. Essentially, this is the spirit world. There are aspects of Fae, Mortal, and Shadow, all coexisting together. The city is so haunted, it’s taken on a life its own.”
“Quaint,” says Flumph, his small eyes rolling in his head. I hear a weak moan from behind me and turn to see Eilish’s limp head droop forward, her pearly skin coated in a sheen of sweat and gooseflesh.
“Quaint, it’s not. Thoradin’s right; we’ve come to a dangerous place. Grimreap is foul, and, as such, it’s home to some of the foulest. None of us are safe here.”
“Ain’t your Shadow Magic ‘nough ta protect us?” the sprite asks.
“My shadows will cloak us, but the chill of this world will kill you and the others before any Shadar-kai or Banderhobb can,” I say, turning to Thoradin. “Thus, we need to warm them with fire.” He nods solemnly and sets off in search of dry wood.
“What’s a Shitter-cat an’ a Corn-cob?” Flumph asks, looking frightened.
“Shadar-kai and Banderhobb,” I correct. “And what did I say about asking questions when you won’t understand the answers?”
ELEVEN
Dragan
The Raven Forest,
Shadow Realm
We busy ourselves gathering supplies needed to camp. Thoradin marches off in search of wood and the sprite attempts to help him. Moments later, Thoradin returns with a large bundle of sticks, logs, and kindling while Flumph, the useless thing, drags a single small twig across the forest floor, his squat body heaving under the supposed weight. He sets his twig beside Thoradin’s bundle and wipes his brow.
Thoradin arranges the kindling and branches into a pyramid shape. Then, he holds his palms up. “Conjure Flame,” he says and immediately, a flickering blaze appears between them. The flame sheds a bright light in a ten-foot radius around us, and dim light for another ten feet beyond that. He leans down to the pyramid of wood and opens his hands above it. Instantly, the small pyre is consumed with the shadow flame and the fire roars to life.
“What’s for dinner?” Flumph asks, looking around expectantly.
The Raven Forest is a wasteland, home only to foul and enormous insects, terrifying monsters, and the spirits of the dead. Any animals fit to consume would be skin and bones—their bodies likely ravaged by disease. My stomach tightens with hunger, but there will be no dinner tonight. I watch as the realization sobers the sprite’s expression.
“See to it that the fire never goes out,” I order, eyeing Flumph specifically.
“Why you lookin’ at me like it’s my job?”
“Because I’m making it your job.” I take a deep breath. “The fire’s your only means of protection beyond the Glyph of Warding. Respect it.”
I hear movement and look to the tree under which Eilish is propped. She’s stirring, her limp body now showing signs of alertness. I move toward her as she raises her hand to her head, wincing in pain.
“Dragan…” she half mumbles.
At the sound of her voice, I hurry until I’m standing above her. She repeats my name but doesn’t open her eyes. She’ll most likely be confused by her whereabouts, tired, and hungry. Conditions I can’t do anything about. And yet, she asks for me anyway. In her fear and suffering, my name is the one that moves across her full, pink lips.
I place one arm beneath her back and the other under her legs, and lift her easily. It’s as if she weighs nothing; her body feels small and fragile. I can feel her skin, where it’s exposed beneath the poor wrapping of her sheet. The soft fleshiness of her thighs, the slenderness of her shoulders and arms. She folds her face into my chest as I walk to the fire.
She’s so vulnerable, it would be easy to take what you want from her, points out a voice inside my head. It’s the voice of darkness, a voice that’s been my constant companion for as long as I can remember.
Imagine how good she would feel, w
rapped around your cock. That hot, tight wetness you’ve denied yourself for so long…
Stop! I yell inwardly and shake my head as I clench my eyes shut.
Carry her away from the others and spread her wide. Taste her. It’s been so long, you’ve forgotten what a woman tastes like.
Enough! I inhale deeply, trying to get control of myself, trying to force these awful thoughts aside.
Imagine the feel as you slide into her, her folds stretching wide. That slickness welcoming your throbbing cock. Imagine the moans escaping her lips, the way her breath speeds up.
It’s an endless battle to fight the darkness within me—a darkness that constantly threatens to take over. I’m angry with myself for needing to battle my baser instincts, instincts that tell me to take what I want. And I want Eilish. I want her more than I can remember wanting anything in a long time. The need to claim her grows stronger the more I’m in her company, and it’s everything I can do to keep it at bay.
In general, I’m not the type of man who keeps anything at bay. I’m accustomed to taking what I want, but I know it’s not right. Especially with Eilish. She trusts me. More so than she trusts the others, I can tell. And I want to encourage that trust. Giving into my needs and having my way with her won’t achieve that.
Take her. Fuck her, Dragan, the voice insists. She’s yours. Claim her. Mark her.
No.
If you don’t, Cambion will. Remember the vision…
And suddenly, I remember the expression on Eilish’s face right before she came out of the vision. I remember her smile, the way her breath hitched. The rise and fall of her breasts as she envisioned Cambion inside her. And then I remember the tugging pain of jealousy that consumed me. The anger, the fire that rose up inside me until I wanted to punch my fist through the wall.
Is that what you want? The voice insists. Do you want Cambion to be the one who experiences her?
Fuck! No, that’s not what I want!
Then take her now, so Cambion knows she’s yours. Make him understand he’ll never have her—that if he were to try, you’d kill him. Claim her before another man does.
I can’t take it anymore. My head feels like a battlefield, warring thoughts rampaging through it until I want to scream.
Gently, I place Eilish on the ground in front of the fire, and I watch as the shadows dance across her beautiful face. I step away, running my hands through my hair as I breathe deeply. I need to calm myself and deny the voice its power over me. I need to focus, to find my inner strength, to center myself.
As I inhale, I feel my chest expanding as far as it’ll go. The trees here don’t carry the same aromatic delight of typical firewood. Instead, the air around us smells acrid and burnt—sulfur, and decaying leaves, and acidic, brackish dirt. The black wood sputters and hisses as it burns, the salt in its bark producing flames of greenish-blue.
Eilish is delirious and can barely sit up straight. She says my name again and I hold myself back from going to her. I’m not fully in control of myself yet, and if I catch her scent and lose control… I can’t think about what could happen.
“Dragan,” she whispers, rolling her head right then left.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper back, hating my own fucking weakness. She needs me, but I can’t go to her. Not when I’m this dangerously close to losing control. If she knew the thoughts that were polluting my brain… she’d hate me. She’d realize how ridiculous it is to trust me. She’d understand what I truly am. That I’m Darkness. I’m as much shadow as the Shadow Realm, itself. I’m tainted and sick.
When she opens her eyes, they’re bloodshot. Large bags puff out beneath them, and her water line is an irritated pink. Regardless, she’s breathtaking. Compared to the red, her eyes appear even more vibrantly blue. She seems to be fully awake, but she doesn’t speak. She just looks at me.
I pace back and forth, doing my best to keep my gaze locked on the ground. But every now and then, I glance up at her. I can’t help it. It’s addicting to look at her: her hair, draped over her naked shoulders; her cheeks, pale in the waning light; her legs, slender and long, extended out in front of her to take full advantage of the fire. What fascinates me the most, though, are her eyes. Those deep, intelligent windows to a mysterious soul. It takes me a second to realize I’ve been unabashedly staring at her and, quickly, I look away. This obsession I’m forming with her isn’t safe. It’s throwing my thoughts and it’s making me at odds with myself.
It’s a wonder the others haven’t noticed yet. Or maybe they have and I’m just kidding myself. I’m almost certain Thoradin can tell I’m not acting like the king he’s known me to be all these years. He knows me better than anyone here does. And yet, he says nothing, because I’m his liege and he knows it’s not his place. But I’m sure he’s worried all the same.
I need a woman, I tell myself resolutely. Maybe fucking someone would deliver me from this constant need for Eilish. Maybe it would cure these thoughts that keep plaguing me.
The more I consider the idea, the better it sounds. I decide, right then and there, that as soon as we enter Grimreap and as soon as the opportunity presents itself, I’ll find a whore. And I’ll use her as many times as it takes to rid this from my system.
“Dragan,” Eilish repeats.
I look at her and suddenly feel ashamed for my thoughts.
Up until very recently, I hadn’t even heard the angel speak. Even now, she’s borderline catatonic. Yet, there’s something about her, some brightness that I can’t tear my gaze from. I want to hold her, protect her, and tell her she’s safe.
“I’m starvin’!” hollers Flumph, forcing me to look away from the beautiful young woman. She raises her head to look at him, then steals another quick glance at me. And I think I see something in her eyes, something that smolders. The look, albeit brief, is a knowing one. I wonder, somewhat irrationally, if she’s been reading my thoughts.
Then again, maybe my thoughts aren’t all that difficult to read. My lingering gaze over the lines of her poorly concealed body is probably no mystery to her. Then why does it look like she shares the same need? Why are her eyes continually finding mine? And why is there a spark inside them that hints at her own lustful thoughts?
You’re confusing her desire with yours, I tell myself, ashamed again. After the trials of her last day, sex has to be the last thing on her mind. But, as hard as I try to distract myself, it’s still first on mine.
I walk away from the fire; I have to get away from her. Her presence is enough to drive me to distraction and I need to focus on our surroundings. I need to be in complete control of my mental faculties, so I can sense danger and plan accordingly.
“Where you goin’?” the sprite demands. “You gonna get us some eats?”
“No,” I bark at him.
“I’m starvin’, Demon Prince.”
“I’m not your parent,” I growl, lustful thoughts becoming liquid anger inside me. I’m dangerously close to losing my cool. “If you want food, get it yourself.”
“I thought you said there was nothin’ to eat ‘round here?”
“I’ve heard roasted sprite isn’t bad,” Thoradin jokes. “As long as you don’t mind some getting stuck in your teeth.”
I can’t smile. My thoughts are wholly encompassed with the need to suppress this burning fire within me. The sooner we get into Grimreap and I find myself a whore, the better. My sanity seems to depend on it.
Flumph crosses his arms against his chest. “Ha. Ha. Very funny. What am I supposed to do out here, starve?”
I look over his round, cushioned body and hear myself chuckle. Then I hear Flumph mumble something underneath his breath. I can’t make out what he says, but I’m pretty sure the words ‘dick’ and ‘shadow-fuck’ are used.
He seems to be in an even more contentious mood than usual. This isn’t surprising, considering we’re in the forest of shadow.
The attitudes of the group will continue to foul, the longer we remain here. I’ve watched
it happen before—it’s a slow transition. Gradually, their voices will grow weary, their movements will become sluggish, and they’ll seem snappish and angry. It’s similar to how I feel when in the light realm. Even before Variant’s edicts and stone curses, life in other realms proved challenging.
At the thought of the darkness destroying the beautiful angel, I look at her and find her looking at me. She doesn’t turn her gaze away but continues to study me boldly. She’s still propped up beside the fire. The warmth seems to comfort her somewhat, and she’s sitting up on her own.
The pull of shadow on beings of light is nothing compared to the pull she has on me. My heart beats faster the longer our eyes lock. My muscles tense. She continues to stare at me, as though she can see through me. I allow my eyes to roam the endless beauty of her body and I do so brazenly, curious as to how she’ll respond when she sees me appraise her so blatantly.
She doesn’t shift her gaze, doesn’t appear angry or self-conscious. Just continues to watch me as I look at her breasts and then the junction of her thighs. The sheet that covers her is all that separates her nudity from my probing eyes, and I wish she’d shift it, show me what’s beneath it. But she doesn’t.
I glance up at her again and watch as her mouth turns in a slight smirk. She seems amused. I can’t explain her reaction. She should be offended by my roving eyes, but she appears entertained, instead.
I don’t.
I feel weakened.
Compromised.
TWELVE
Cambion
The Raven Forest,
Shadow Realm
My body is devoid of warmth and a throbbing headache makes it difficult to open my eyes. I sit up slowly, my body reluctant to follow my commands. When I look around, all I see is an overwhelming darkness, so black I have a hard time believing my eyes aren’t still closed. But then, light appears like a beacon from a lighthouse tower. Fire. At first, the light from the fire is the only thing I can see. Everything else is an inky black. Instinctively, my eyes blink against the darkness, willing my vision to adjust. Behind me, I can barely make out the dim outline of trees—twisting, contorted branches coated in deadly thorns—their shapes barely visible against the darker blackness of the sky.
