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that seed of power within her. To learn it.
“What are you doing,” the spider breathed,
shifting on her feet.
His magic wrapped around her, and he
could feel it—each hateful, horrible year of
existence.
Each—
His mouth dried out. Bile surged in his
throat at the scent his magic detected. He’d
never forget that scent, that vileness. He’d
bear the mark on his throat forever as proof.
Valg. The spider, somehow, was Valg. And
not possessed, but born.
He kept his face neutral. Uninterested.
Even as his magic located that glowing,
beautiful bit of magic.
Stolen magic. As the Valg stole all things.
Took everything they wanted.
His blood became a dull, pounding roar in
his ears.