Page 134 of Elysian

I would not be able to say my goodbyes . . .

My Cassiel.

Vaner did not stop beating his fist into my stomach.

It seemed a cruelty to see a face I cared for hurting me so. I drew my knee up before he slammed his fist into my breastbone. Vaner fell onto his side.

I wheezed out a breath. “Why do all this? Why did you cause so much damage?”

He climbed to his knees. A glaze coated his eyes.

“Because,” he snarled, still coming at me slowly as I backed away. “You disgusting parasitic redbloods should not exist.” This was his true self. This rageful man whose voice shook.

“You killed your son for your greed!” I spat back, still digging my heels into the dirt.

“No!” he roared. “It was your fault. You turned him against me. My son would still be alive if not for you.” He lunged at me. I managed to roll. The barrier out of the fog was so close. “You were supposed to take me.” He squeezed my throat harder and harder. Tears welled in his eyes, and grief flitted over his features. “My boy.” He let out a wrenching howl.

Egan’s mouth widened, the sound so odd coming from his lips.

“I would have found another way to survive the plague. I could have sired a spare son instead of taking Egan if you had not escaped.” His voice choked, words turning garbled. He threw himself forward, catching my ankle. “You took him from me,” he spat.

With my free foot, I kicked his face and rolled toward the barrier of the fog.

I rolled into the other side, leaving behind the thick emotion. Vaner was too quick and escaped it with a lunge.

He fell flat on his face with a groan.

Leaden weight pressed down on my limbs.

The only other way it was possible to jump a host was Nocturn. All of this began with his greed.

He was still. I clawed for strength. Pushing onto my hands and knees, I rose. I stumbled on my feet, the world tipping.

I must get away.

A few steps through the dark forest left me facing frightening darkness. The trees seemed eerily still. The mountain leading up to the cenote stretched ahead.

A grip hauled me toward the path leading up. I gasped, about to wrench my elbow into his side, but something sharp cut into my waist. He held a blade to my kidney.

“I will disembowel you.” He pushed it against me. Pain pierced my skin. He forced me ahead. I was too weak to do much else.

My stomach pitched, and I turned my face, gagging. He did not slow going up the path. My body screamed in denial. I could no longer feel my feet.

He’d brought me to the cenote. He knew he needed a redblood to access it.

“What do you want with me?” We tread until he had me at the lip of the entrance. I stumbled on the jagged path.

“You are my way out from Sycarious.”

Away from Sycarious? Did he mean . . .

“You are going to turn me into a Sanguine Stone.” I faltered, lurching onto the side of the cave.

A faint smile spread across his mouth. “It is a joy not needing to explain your fate to you.” I dug my nails into the surface, but he was too strong for me, wrenching me with him and shredding my nails on the stone. I cried out as his arm pushed into my stomach. He carried me the rest of the way, easily dragging me, notwithstanding my kicking.

“I missed a youthful body,” he mused, using his strength with ease. The glow from the cenote made seeing easier. I dug my feet into the dirt, and when he wrenched me toward him, I brought my fist into his throat.

“You damn whore!” he roared, slapping me so hard I staggered and landed hard. He took hold of my hair and began to drag me toward the cenote. Over jagged stone that sliced into my skin and tore my dress.