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Dorian studied her tiny frame, her ordinary
face. “You’ve been rather quiet regarding the
quest for revenge that sent you hunting across
the continent.”
Cyrene’s dark eyes turned to depthless pits.
“Oh, I have not forgotten that. Not at all.”
Damaris remained warm. Waiting.
He let his magic wrap soothing hands
around the seed of power trapped within the
black hell inside the spider.
He didn’t care to know why and how the
stygian spiders were Valg. How they’d come
here. Why they’d lingered.
They fed off dreams and life and joy.
Delighted in it.
The seed of shape-shifting power flickered
in his hands, as if grateful for a kind touch. A
human touch.
This. His father had allowed these sorts of
creatures to grow, to rule. Sorscha had been