VISION ✔️ || The Keepers of Astraela #1

7.0 || Of Protection and Dreadfiends

EMRYS

"A MOUNTAIN LION?"

The woman stared at Emrys, eyes piercing his soul even while cloaked by her hood's shadow. As she approached the library steps, the overhanging moon created a pale cast across her body, illuminating a scowl so unamused that Emrys was surprised it didn't wilt the nearby pots of hibiscus.

He suddenly wished he hadn't called the meeting.

Clad in black from head to toe, save for the silver and blue pendant grazing her neck, the woman became one with the shadows once she moved under the stone canopy to sit beside him on the top step. She never missed the opportunity to make the most of their meet-ups by dressing as though she had just completed an assassination.

On any other occasion, Emrys would have followed suit to appease her. That night, however, he remained in the casual clothing he had donned the entire day, with the only new addition being a hoodie to protect him from the chilly midnight breeze.

Heaven forbid we meet when the sun is out, he thought, pulling the jacket tighter around him.

Even when he looked away, entranced by ghastly shadows snaking along the street, he felt the woman's gaze burn through him.

"I thought you took care of the problem," she said.

Emrys curled his fingers into a loose fist. "You and I both. That dog was the only creature in sight, and it was feeding off the man's carcass in that coffee shop. How could I have suspected—"

"The police statement said that there have been sightings of a large cat in the woods for months." The woman's tone was colder than the breeze slipping under the canopy. "I know you're still learning about Earth, but one Google search will tell you that mountain lions haven't been seen on the East coast in years. Do you know how much suspicion this will raise?"

"I'm aware of that now."

As much as he hated to admit it, she was right. If they were to remain anonymous on Earth, an Astraelan Dreadfiend—and a Corrupted one, nonetheless—was the last thing they needed prowling the streets.

"Find it."

"Oh, really?" said Emrys. "And what do you expect me to do if I can't use my powers? A tranquilizer gun didn't do shit. Our safest bet is to—"

"You will find a way. We've gone in enough circles over this." The woman's words darkened the closer she leaned in.

Emrys pulled away, but when her hand clenched into a tight fist, an unseen force kept him in place. Cold, invisible fingers cinched his neck, making him gasp for air until warm fog billowed from his mouth. A dull glow emanated from his eyes. Steam rose from his pores as he upped his body temperature in a weak attempt at burning through her bitter grasp, but it was too strong.

Or he was too weak.

"In case you've forgotten," the woman hissed, "I was tasked with keeping your sorry ass alive, and I don't intend to break those orders. If it comes down to it, I'll take matters into my own hands and kill the damned thing myself."

Emrys could hardly feel his throat through the numbing cold, but managed to force strangled words from his mouth. "It would be a suicide mission."

"And yours isn't? Keep using your power like this and you won't make it back to Astraela."

The woman opened her hand, and the icy fingers removed their vice grip on Emrys' neck. He gulped in breaths, throwing his head between his knees as colored sparks assaulted his vision. Suddenly, the chilly breeze didn't seem so bad—it almost felt warm in comparison when it grazed the thick ring of frostbite that encircled his neck.