been a valuable ally, Drego Sarhain. And now you will give me the power I need to finish my task and fulfill my destiny.”
Drego writhed and twisted in Daine’s grasp, and suddenly he changed. He was taller, stronger-and he had the head of a tiger, deep black fur traversed with stripes of flame.
“You’re nothing next to Vyrael or Vorlintar,” Daine said. “But you’ll do.”
All the pieces suddenly fell into place. In Droaam, Drego had aided the demon Drulkalatar, the tiger-headed demon lord. Even in her dream, he’d hovered by the creature’s skull. He hadn’t been working for Thrane at all. He must have been Drulkalatar’s ally all along.
And even as she realized this, something else became clear. Drego had released her from her spell.
She didn’t hesitate. Drego howled as Daine’s dragonmark dug into his skin. And Thorn stepped forward and thrust Steel into Daine’s eye, slamming her free hand against the pommel and driving the blade into his brain.
CHAPTER THIRTY — ONE
The Depths Lharvion 22, 999 YK
It was a perfect blow. Thorn had killed enough men to know that. But she’d never fought the Son of Khyber. Daine jerked, and Drego collapsed to the ground as the crackling tendrils released him. For a moment, Daine’s good eye focused on Thorn, and she saw that same look of sorrow.
He fell into her arms. At least, his body did. Daine’s flesh became dead weight against her, but as he collapsed, his dragonmark remained, a mass of pulsing crimson lines in the rough shape of a man. Ignoring Thorn, it reached out for the crumpled form of Drego, wrapping new tendrils around the stunned demon. Thorn lashed out with Steel, but the blade passed through the glowing dragonmark with no effect at all.
You’ll know, he’d said. You’ll know what you have to do.
And in that moment, she did.
She reached out, thrusting her hand into the middle of the glowing dragonmark. She remembered Toli falling at her touch. Sorghan d’Deneith. And she remembered the dragon in her dream, swallowing Drulkalatar.
And she pulled at Daine’s soul.
It was a bitter struggle. The thing she was fighting was more than just Daine. She could feel Vyrael’s burning rage and the despair of the fallen Vorlintar. And now that she’d proven herself a threat, the composite being had turned its hatred against her. Thorn could feel the power of the unbound mark tugging at her, seeking to consume her spirit. She’d managed to channel this power, but she still didn’t fully understand it.
But there was someone who did.
She thought of her dreams, of the gown in the crystal room, the great dragonskull, the dark reflection she’d seen in Far Passage. She felt the pain of the Khyber shard in her neck, and she embraced it, pulled it to her.
Time slowed to a crawl. Then the thoughts flowed through her mind.
What have we here? It was a strange sensation, feeling another force think with her mind. It seemed as if they were her own thoughts, but they were filled with cruel joy. Daine, Daine. I always knew I’d have you some day. And a pair of angels as well.
The balance had changed. The voice within Thorn took charge of the struggle, twisting the dragonmark wraith’s power against it, cooling and crushing it with its own rage. And the instant its resolve broke, the force within Thorn pulled against it. Thorn felt a terrible sense of disorientation, and the shard in her neck burned.
The ghostly dragonmark was gone. Yet the force in her head remained. Now it struggled with her, seeking to push her into the stone.
You’ve had your time, Nyrielle. Now it’s my turn.
It was a horrible sensation, as if all of her thoughts and memories were being compressed into a ball and crushed.
Don’t fight, girl. You can’t possibly match me.
For a moment, she couldn’t even remember who she was. But there were things she could never forget, and she drew those out.
The face of her father when he returned from the wars.
The last time she’d seen her mother.
Lharen’s soft words in a darkened room.
And as she drew on these memories, she felt power growing within her. She forged her emotions into a vise, and she wrapped it around the alien presence in her mind. Slowly-too slowly-she forced it back into the prison of the shard.
And then it was over.
Daine’s corpse lay on the floor, the dragonmark gone from his flesh. The tiger-headed fiend she’d known as Drego was also stretched out across the ground, slowly stirring. Thorn placed one knee on Drego’s chest, and Steel against his throat.
His eyes opened. His features blurred, and now it was the handsome Thrane who lay beneath her.
“That won’t accomplish anything,” he told her, gesturing toward Steel with his eyes. “I can’t die. If you kill me, I’ll just be reborn.”
“Drulkalatar said the same thing,” she replied, running her free hand along the soft skin of his cheek.
He paled.
“Who are you?” Thorn asked. “What is this all about?”
He chuckled softly. “So you still don’t remember. You still think you’re Thorn.”
“I am Thorn.”
“You’re Sarmondelaryx. The Angel of Flame. The Devourer of Souls. Condemned by the Conclave of Argonnessen-and yet, they need you, if the Prophecy is to fall as they wish it.”
“And what does that make you?” she said.
“One of the true children of Khyber, born in the first age of this world. Not the mightiest of my kind, certainly. But cleverer than many with more power. I served the ancient Lords of Dust in the war against your kind-the war over the Prophecy, the struggle to shape the future. Then I met you. Or, I suppose, I met her.”
“And I suppose you fell in love?”
“I don’t expect you to understand. You’re just a child now. But you could be her again. Embrace the dragon within you. Embrace your power. Let us be together again and mock dragon and tiger alike.”
What he was saying was horrifying, and yet she knew it was true. The dreams, her senses, the way the fire wouldn’t touch her…
All gifts of Sarmondelaryx.
“No,” she said. “I am who I am.”
“For now.” Drego grinned, the same playful grin she’d seen so many times. “But every time you draw on her power, she grows stronger. It’s only a matter of time.”
“So I won’t use her powers.”
“You’re being used,” Drego told her. “How did you happen to be in the right place to fight Drulkalatar, and why were you able to transform in that battle? You’re a puppet, and you don’t even know who’s pulling the strings. Release Sarmondelaryx. At least she’s the mistress of her own fate.”
Thorn pressed the blade against his neck. “You’re lying. Why should I believe anything you say?”
Drego laughed again. “I admit, my nature as a spirit of deception does rather work against me here. But ask yourself: How did this all happen? What are they using you for? How far does it go?”
Thorn said nothing. Could he be telling the truth? Was there a conspiracy within the Dark Lanterns, or did it go even higher than that?
“Come with me,” Drego said. “Keep your identity for as long as you can. I’m patient. But there are things I can show you, things you can’t begin to imagine. I do love you, flawed as you are. Let me show you a new world.”
“I’m sorry,” she said, staring into his silver-gray eyes as she shoved the dagger into his throat. She watched as the mischievous twinkle faded, then she pulled Steel out and stood. “Maybe next time.”
She wiped off the blade and sheathed it, then walked over to the eldritch machine Daine had been building. It
