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“Maybe. I want to observe his condition a bit more before I tackle those dark threads. But even if I do manage to lift it, the danger of someone else getting infected remains.”
“Can you get rid of what’s causing it in that cave?”
She rolled her slender shoulders. “I won’t know until I see it. If it’s too strong for me alone, then I am sure the witch queen can be persuaded to send a coven to eradicate the source.”
“You think we’re dealing with some kind of monster?”
“I can’t say for sure, however, I’ve never heard of a curse that speaks to its host.” She turned to Lomar. “I’d like you to remove the medallion.”
He slapped a hand over it and retreated. “Not a good idea.”
“My understanding was the affliction hit at night.”
“Yeah, but it’s been whispering hard since you entered the cell.”
“And what is it murmuring to you?” she asked, stepping closer.
“I’d rather not say.” Lomar shook his head.
“You can’t shock me. Tell me.”
Lomar’s jaw tensed before he blurted, “Burn the witch.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Fionna didn’t react to Lomar’s words, but the warlord did. “There will be no burning.”
“Obviously.” Lomar rolled his eyes.
“I’d still like to remove the talisman just for a moment to see if the threads change.” When coming across something new, before tackling it, it was best to observe.
At Lomar’s hesitation, Kormac murmured, “Go ahead. I won’t let you hurt her.”
While not looking entirely relieved, Lomar lifted the chain and removed it. He clutched it for a moment before dropping it in Fionna’s palm.
The change in the threads surrounding Lomar proved startling as they began slithering and sliding over his body. The man’s expression turned rigid, and he spoke through a tense jaw. “It really doesn’t like you.”
“Good. That means it’s scared of me.”
“I fear nothing!” The sharp exhalation emerged in a different timbre than the one Lomar had been using. His eyes also turned a deep black that went well with the wicked twist of his lips. “As if a mere witch frightens me. You are nothing compared to your ancestors. A weak spark easily snuffed.”
“So weak and yet you want to burn me,” she quipped, antagonizing, yes, but for a reason. She watched the threads, seeing if she could spot a flaw in the weave.
“Because the only good witch is a dead one.” The flat response came from the thing speaking through Lomar.
“Who are you?” she asked.
“As if I would give you a clue,” cackled the spirit.
“That is a clue. You’re worried I’ll figure out who and what you are.”
“Even if you do, you won’t be able to stop me. The binding on me weakens. Soon, so very soon, I will walk this world again, and all will pay. Starting with Airiok’s descendants.” It eyed Kormac who appeared nonplussed.
“What a waste of a second chance,” Fionna scoffed. “And a good way to get banished again. That is if the mighty warlord doesn’t give you a permanent ending.”
“No living man can kill me,” it boasted.
She noticed the use of the word man. Misogynic intent, or intentional? Prophecies could be quite literal about certain things. “Are you in that cave in the mountains?”
