A Court of Chaos and Confusion - An ACOTAR Rewrite

Chapter 8

My blood froze as a creeping, leeching cold lurched by. I couldn't see anything, just a vague shimmering in the corner of my vision, but my horse stiffened beneath me. I willed my face into blankness. Even the balmy spring woods seemed to recoil, to wither and freeze.

The cold thing whispered past, circling. I could see nothing, but I could feel it. And in the back of my mind, an ancient, hollow voice whispered: I will grind your bones between my claws; I will drink your marrow; I will feast on your flesh. I am what you fear; I am what you dread... Look at me. Look at me.

I tried to swallow, but my throat had closed up. I kept my eyes on the trees, on the canopy, on anything but the cold mass circling us again and again.

Look at me.

Oh fuck no. I kept my eyes straight ahead, knowing if I looked or reacted I would die a horrible, painful, gruesome death.

Look at me.

I stared at the coarse trunk of a distant elm, thinking of pleasant things. Like hot bread, warm bellies, beautiful melodies –

I will fill my belly with you. I will devour you. Look at me.

Absolutely not. A starry, unclouded night sky, peaceful and glittering and endless. Summertime sunrise. A refreshing bath in a forest pool. Singing a new song. Basking under the full moon on those long, lonely nights after he had gotten married. Our family dog before we'd lost our manor.

It was all around us, so cold that my teeth chattered. Look at me.

And just as I thought I couldn't handle much more of the ancient wicked voice, the cold disappeared into the brush, leaving a trail of still, recoiling plants behind it. Only after Lucien exhaled and our horses shook their heads did I dare sag in my seat. Even the crocuses seemed to straighten again.

"What was that?" I asked, rubbing my sore eyes. I hadn't even bothered blinking until it had passed.

Lucien's face was still pale. "You don't want to know."

"Please. Was it that... Suriel you mentioned?"

Lucien's russet eye was dark as he answered hoarsely. "No. It was a creature that should not be in these lands. We call it the Bogge. You cannot hunt it, and you cannot kill it. Even with your beloved ash arrows."

"Why can't I look at it? You know, other than the obvious 'it'll kill me brutally' thing?"

"Because when you look at it – when you acknowledge it – that's when it becomes real. That's when it can kill you."

A shiver traveled down my spine. This was the Prythian I'd expected – the creatures that made humans speak of them in hushed tones. The reason I hadn't hesitated when I'd let that ash arrow fly at the giant wolf that day. "I heard its voice in my head. It told me to look."

Lucien rolled his shoulders and I mimicked the movement. "Well, thank the Cauldron that you didn't. Cleaning up that mess would have ruined the rest of my day." He gave me a wan smile. I didn't return it and instead rolled my eyes, bastard.

I still heard the Bogge's voice whispering between the leaves, calling to me. I kept my eyes trained in front of me.

After an hour of meandering through the trees, hardly speaking to each other, I'd stopped trembling enough to turn to him.

"So you're old," I said. "And you carry around a sword, and go on border patrol. Did you fight in the War?" Fine – perhaps I hadn't let go of my curiosity about his eye.

He winced. "Shit, Feyre – I'm not that old."

"Are you a warrior, though?" I knew he could kill me if he wanted, but I wondered how much training he'd had, if all High Fae were trained as warriors in some capacity.