“He scared me and I ran away, but then he caught me. He hurt me. His goblin’s skin exuded chemicals that burned me, so he grabbed my arms, refusing to release me until I promised to stay with him. When he finally let go, I was bleeding so badly. I will never forget that pain because I’ve never felt anything worse.”
I pried Maveryck’s stiff fingers from mine, and then I gently ran my finger over his cheek.
“The pain stayed with me always,” I said. “It never went away. Even after his death, I still felt the poison inside me. Until I met you.”
The portal’s light moved like water over his skin, smooth and fluid, almost lifelike.
“I don’t know how it happened,” I continued, “or how to explain it, but after I met you, I didn’t feel the pain anymore. You made it go away.” I pushed the hair away from his forehead and gently kissed him. “I should have told you sooner. I was too afraid you were like him. But you’re not. I wished I’d realized it sooner. You’re not like him, Maveryck.”
I stood and backed toward the portal, knowing I would never be the same without him. Behind me, the light glowed in colors of blue and silver. I found the staff and the crystal, and then I faced the portal.
Could I really go back without him?
I would forget everything once I went through. I would forget how I felt about him and how he’d made my pain go away, and I would forget the sound of his voice and the way his eyes sparkled with magic. I tried to convince myself that this was for the best—that perhaps it was best to forget, because then I would no longer feel the pain of losing him—but that thought only made me feel worse.
Looking behind me, I wasn’t sure I could just leave him here on this world with no burial and no one to remember him. I still knew so little about him, and I didn’t even know where to find his family. Was there anyone in the world who would miss him? But as I stared at his body lying prone on the stone floor, I watched as his skin changed from gray to pink.
I blinked. I’m making this up. He’s dead. He’s not coming back.
But the longer I stared, the more I doubted my own sanity. The color was returning to his skin. I crossed to him, knelt at his side, and then placed the staff aside. I pulled the bandages, stiff with dried blood, off his neck, shocked to find the flesh knitted back together.
And then his eyes opened.
I gasped and fell backward. What was happening? Was he some sort of wraith transformed? Black magic must have been at work, because I knew there was no magic that could restore life to the dead.
He sat up slowly, and I didn’t know if I should be elated or terrified. My heart hammered in my chest.
“Heidel?” he whispered. His eyes gleamed, reflecting the silver-blue in the light emanating from the portal. I’d known only one other person who’d been someone else—someone who wore a man’s skin to hide the monster inside.
“Maveryck, what’s going on? What… Who are you?”
He only shook his head, his breath coming out in quick gasps. The sound of his labored breathing was the only sound in the cavern. I tried to wrap my mind around the situation, that Maveryck had died and was now breathing and speaking once again—but as much as I wanted to believe it, I couldn’t. It had to be some sort of trick.
“Maveryck, is that really you?”
He nodded. “Yes.”
“But… how? You died. I watched you die.”
“It’s difficult to explain,” he answered, his voice distant and quiet. My heart pounded as I stared at him. As much as he frightened me, I refused to let my fear show, so I moved toward him.
“Please,” I said quietly, kneeling beside him. “I need to know who you are.”
“I… I can’t tell you.”
“Why not?”
He focused on the portal. “Because I’ve never told anyone.”
“But you have to tell me.”
“Why?”
“Because I just watched you return from the dead, for Odin’s sake! You owe me some sort of explanation.”
A ghost of a smile crossed his face. Perhaps this was the Maveryck I knew. “If I tell you,” he said quietly, “you must swear not to tell anyone. It is a secret I’ve kept my entire life.”
“Very well, I give you my oath, one Wult to another. I will not repeat what you tell me. Besides,” I said, nodding toward the portal, “I won’t remember anything anyway. Will I?”
“I suppose not.” His voice grew distant as he spoke. “I was born to Wult parents and adopted by elves, that much you know, but what you don’t know is that this happened almost five centuries ago.”
I gasped. “Five centuries. So you’re five hundred years old?”
Maveryck nodded.
“How is that possible?”
“I can explain, though it’s a bit of a story. You’re sure you want to know?”
“Yes.” I still couldn’t believe I was sitting here talking to him.
“It started with my brother, Navarre,” he said. “After my adopted elven parents died, he was left to raise me, but he had a secret. Navarre was obsessed with the dark arts, and he wanted eternal youth. His fixation led him to the northlands where he studied potions. After he left on his journey to the goblin realm, I didn’t see him again for many years. I’d assumed he died, but one night, he returned.
“Navarre was horribly disfigured. He’d lost most of his skin, and his eyes and lips had been cut away. How he made it back to our keep was a mystery. Yet he lived, and he carried two small bottles of potion with him. My brother instructed me in the proper use of the potion, including an elaborate ritual where the potion was to be drunk under the darkness of a new moon.
“We each took
