A Shield of Faith (BOOK 4)

Chapter 5

LAUCAN

"Miso! Miso!" His song cried out in fear of the crimson darkness. It rippled across the alabaster walls of the palace as he tread the royal wing, a deep hum weaved through the slinking worms birthed from the shadows and his footsteps. Blood oozed from the white carpet beneath his feet, but he continued onward in the silence. Snow drifted against the tall window panes, creating images of his imagination. Wyverns set fire to the fields of the tundra, but he sank into his nightfurs and tucked his nose within the fluffy collar. Teeth grew out of the blizzard clouds outside, but with every blink they froze and fell. Gales of claws became nothing more than a mirage when he closed in on the steps to the king's suite. "Miso?" he called out for his father, confused at the silence and the emptiness of the corridor, once filled with several of his sentinels. "Misoro?" Up the steps, he tucked his furs around his body, trying to hide his short, downy feathers within them to protect himself from the relentless cold, stopping in front of the door etched with icicles.

The melodic hum continued against a dissonant key, blanketed by layers of permafrost, dancing against crystal pillars. It set fire to the runes within the bricks, and he reached out his hand to the handle to open himself to his reign. Wind pushed it along its hinges.

Blood carved the wyverns across the wall, setting fire to the snowrose of the royal family. Droplets dripped onto the pillow beneath it, soaking it with the sins deep within the opal crown. Mist curled and twisted along the floor, pulsating with veins. Intensity grew into the shape of a man when they stood over the dessicated, decapitated body of his Misoro. The crown rolled through the puddle and came to a stop at the wraith's feet, their own hands bloody, with no weapon in sight. Laucan choked on the stench of rustic death when they turned their neck in one smooth, empty motion. Crimson spread through the pupiless grays, their feathers frayed.

"Miso?" Laucan whimpered, then took a small step back when they faced him in full. A dagger of ice slipped into their palm as they came through the mist. Apathy created a statue out of the assassin. Each step burst apart crimson bubbles, and Laucan widened his eyes when the veil rippled and Yuven Traye came from the misty figure of his nightmares. He brushed his thumb against the hilt as the apathy died into draconic fury, the pupils coming to life in the violets as his pace quickened.

Closer. Closer.

Blood splattered against the wall.

Laucan jolted up from his mattress, and nearly screamed at the desiccated face looming in the canopy. Another blink, and it disappeared, though the deep hum continued to sing through the blizzard. Days upon days, and he hoped the wraith haunting him would get it over with. Legs swung over the side, he held his boiling stomach when acid slipped into his nose. The hum persisted in its aggravating, dissonant tones against his ears and feathers. He tried to shake out his head of the constant sound, but the movement sent bursts of fury into his lungs.

Shut. Up. Laucan hauled himself out of his bed and tore at his own ears. Shut up, I've heard enough of this song. He dug his fingers into his feathers and tore the little pieces of down out to send them as sacrifices to the wind. Fumes of white escaped through his clenched jaw and nose. A hiss battled against the hum and created a cacophony of screaming ghosts. Shut up. Another shake of his head, and it refused to leave him be.

Slow footsteps.

He formed a glyph made of icicles when the door opened with the breath of the blizzard. It coiled into a spring loaded lance, but he bit on his tongue to taste the blood of innocents when Efram stood on the other side, a tray in their hands and an expression of growing fear on their face. It melted into a puddle in his palm, and he kept his eye on the ghosts looming behind Efram when they entered the room with faltered certainty.