Total pages in book: 129
Estimated words: 120029 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 600(@200wpm)___ 480(@250wpm)___ 400(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 120029 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 600(@200wpm)___ 480(@250wpm)___ 400(@300wpm)
My voice echoes between the walls, desperate yet dull. Have I really raised my voice so high?
Tristan lets go of my hand, his shoulders sagging. “I understand,” he mumbles, and now I feel bad for him, because he looks like a kicked dog.
Just because it’s my instinct to please, doesn’t mean I’m about to give into it. But if I’m to stand firm, I have to stop looking at him, so I sink deeper into the water, my gaze fixed on the fresco above.
Eventually, it will all start hurting less.
I’m sure of it.
Tristan gets up and clears his throat. “I’ll… I’ll sleep on the floor. I’ll go set that up. Call me when you’re ready to leave the bath.”
It’s kind of him to offer that, and while it’ll likely be awkward, at least this way I won’t end up with my face pressed to his chest in my sleep.
“Thank you.”
When he leaves, I can finally relax, but as the moon descends and the sky outside grows darker, demons of the past two months announce themselves by scratching at the edge of my mind.
I can only hope staying here is the right decision.
Chapter 19
Nate
The water’s dense and as it retreats, some of it sticks to my body like jelly that hasn’t yet fully set. It ebbs and flows, climbing ever higher up my chest, and I know that soon it will reach my mouth, then pour in through my nose, choking me as I jerk my body, struggling for air. It’s inevitable, but the fear of knowing this might be how I die remains unchanged.
The walls of the dungeon are sweating cold blood. The same blood my tormentor has poured out of my body over the past weeks to feed this horrible place. Now the cold stone is anticipating the arrival of its master.
Tap.
Tap.
Tap.
The echo of slow footsteps reverberates around me, announcing his arrival, and my heart gallops, because even with the sea water climbing my throat in an attempt to choke, no terror is greater than Lorsen Gloombane.
I wish I could die before he can reach me, but all of a sudden the glow of his green lantern illuminates the back of my head, casting a shadow on the wall.
It’s… barely there.
Pathetic.
The reason for my suffering.
And yet, no matter how much I endure, it won’t darken, as if there’s a spark inside my soul that needs to be extinguished for this horror to end.
“Nothing,” he rasps, voice low and dangerous as it echoes around me, sending tremors down my submerged body just as I gulp down a portion of the salty wave. It has a metallic aftertaste.
I want to say something, but my voice fails me when the shadow cast on the wall blurs, as if it’s about to disappear altogether.
Gloombane huffs. “Look at that pathetic thing. It barely bothers to exist. Perhaps it’s just embarrassed to be attached to a wretch like you.”
The water splashes in my face, agitating my eyes with salt. That’s why I’m sobbing, not due to this never-ending torture, and yet I wail out my apologies. I beg to be taken home as he approaches, step by careful step.
I can feel him looming above me now, and in the trembling glow of the swamplight, his shadow darkens mine.
“It’s so pale it can even hide behind mine.” I freeze as claw-like fingers tighten around my neck, and then Gloombane is right in front of me, empty eye sockets shiny with fresh blood as he speaks, accentuating every word. “Imagine being such a weak excuse for a human that even your own darkness won’t commit to you.”
The blood-flavored wave floods my mouth, and nose, until my lungs are full of water, and I can’t, can’t, can’t breathe.
And still, somehow I’m screaming.
Despite the dull ache in my chest. Despite the painful stiffness in my muscles that has them constricting as I sit up in the bed, surrounded by absolute darkness.
A warm hand grabs mine, and I rip it out with another yelp, but then I hear a voice that doesn’t belong to Gloombane. It’s smooth, and warm, and its timbre feels like a velvet shawl wrapping around my neck.
“Nate? What is it?” Tristan.
It’s Tristan. He took me from the tower. He stood up to Gloombane for me.
For now, at least, I’m safe.
We’re at a tavern. Unicorn’s Rest was its name. I’m no longer in the dungeon.
“A d-dream. A bad one,” I whimper, rolling to my side. Now I regret pulling my hand away. And then hate myself a little for it. I’m such a mess.
Now my stomach aches the moment I close my eyes, because I’m sure I’ll end up right back in that dungeon if I fall asleep.
“I’m sorry. Do you want to talk about it?”
I don’t. It was excruciatingly real, only to devolve into madness, because Gloombane is dead. I—