Page 74 of The Ember that Tethers

Emmery grinned.

With the flick of her hand, the Hollowhound went up in a golden blaze. It writhed uselessly against the insatiable flames, but it was no match for her magic. As Emmery relished in the beast’s pitiful cries, something slid in front of her eyes and muddled her vision. Something dark and shadowy whispered temptation in her ear as herkhaosflame masticated the hound from the inside out. That thing in her head thickened, the shadow blinded, and it shoved her back behind a wall. Claimed her vision.

Emmery blinked, but it was no use. She couldn’t see past it.

Don’t stop,it whispered.Kill until nothing remains. Gorge on death.

Emmery squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head. But even when she killed her flame in an attempt to regain her body, see through her own eyes again, not peer through that strange veil, the darkness remained.

She rubbed her eyes until she saw stars and that shadow dissipated. Until she could see again. Until she could make out the motionless dog, now nothing more than a charred husk of ashen remains.

What the fuck was that? That dark thing had just slid in front of her eyes like it lived inside her head. Whatever it was, it seemed monstrously …alive.

She had barely regained her composure when another hound leapt from the bushes. This time, Aera struck in a whirlwind of black mist. The fox chittered as the hound froze, rigid as a statue,and lifelessly fell to the ground. Its body shattered into shards of fleshy ice.

Now that the beasts were gone, Emmery sprinted to Destonne’s side and crashed to her knees.

“Oh,gods,” she breathed, her voice trembling as she surveyed his torn skin and the exposed thorns wrapped around his bones that had punched through his chest and arms too. The hound had chewed through his shoulder as if it was made of spun sugar.

With intense care, Emmery laid her hand on Destonne’s bicep. His uneven, clammy skin caked in red stuck to her fingers.

He clutched his arm and tried to roll away as a laboured breath wheezed from him. “Don’t,” he croaked.

The thorns bit into her palm as Emmery slid her hand up and over the raw flesh. Blood pulsed from the wound in gushes, and her mind flashed back to Callias and his brush with death. The moment Vesper had died. His vestige disintegrating, light leaving his eyes, the pool of crimson she left him in—

The moment she’d failed.

Not again. She wouldnotfail again.

Destonne gasped as her fingers pressed into the raw flesh of his shoulder. He pushed her away, but he was already so weak. “Emmery, don’t—”

She didn’t listen.

Her silver threads leapt to attention and herkhaosflame pressed too, but she shoved her flame back. It had no place here and had done enough damage for the night.

Destonne’s face stilled in a wash of awe as he fell back into the dirt. The hard set of his brows softened. His lips parted and he took a shaky breath, then promptly fell unconscious as she stole his pain.

And then it diced her like a thousand knives to her bones.

Emmery clamped her jaw and screwed her eyes shut as the agony shot through her. She couldn’t breathe and her chestconvulsed like she was drowning, her lungs threatened to burst from some foreign pressure inside her. She willed her threads to tend to his mangled skin in precise stitches. To reform. Reshape. To reverse time itself.

But the pain was unlike anything she’d ever experienced, ravaging through her body—erupting up her back, along her arms and neck, continuing around the perimeter of her head. It ached so terribly the edges of her vision blurred and the ground trembled beneath her. She tumbled onto her side. Her head knocked the ground so hard it rattled her teeth.

She closed her eyes, only for a moment she thought, but when she opened them, Brennen’s dark head loomed over her. The ringing in her ears stifled all sound and her vision still swam, but she managed to turn her head. Destonne now sat upright, his shoulder cradled in his hold. As she sank back into her body, her attention narrowed on her hand clutched in his. Embarrassed, her cheeks warmed and despite everything, his incomparable smile and their almost kiss flashed in her mind.

She wrenched free from Destonne’s grip. When she pushed herself onto her knees, her damp eyes met the wolf’s burnt orange gaze. Fresh blood dripped from his mouth. Obviously the hound had not been alone. He sat back on his hind legs and bowed his head to help her stand. Emmery murmured a brief thank you, and they shared a nod.

Behind her, Destonne groaned and attempted to stand though his shoulder remained a raw mess of flesh, as if she’d barely touched the wound. At least she couldn’t see his bones anymore, but the severity of it brought a wave of nausea. She swallowed it down.

Once Emmery was steady on her feet, Brennen helped Destonne stand. The King kept a hand on the wolf’s neck for balance. As his attention warred between them, in a voice like gravel, he asked, “How many, Bren?”

“Three on the outskirts. Five total including these two. None were anywhere near the castle grounds, but there’s surely more on their way. We should go.”

Brennen aided Destonne as they all gathered their things. The King stumbled several times, but Brennen caught him, let Destonne lean on him as much as he needed as he winced and fought to shrug on his trousers and shove his feet into his boots.

Emmery watched helplessly, unsure how to help without overstepping. She didn’t know what to think. Didn’t know how to process the pain she’d taken from him.

As they slowly tread back to Blackdawn Castle, Aera followed close behind Destonne and nosed the back of his leg in a show of support.