"Echo Bending training?"
She latched onto the hope in his gaze, a truly foreign feeling for Darkov.
"You've got the Echo foundation,"
he conceded, his voice a low rumble.
"But your body... it's dangerously frail."
She remained motionless, absorbing the blunt critique.
Dangerously? No, I'm like a rock.
"Tomorrow,"
Darkov stated, his tone flat,
"You will identify five instances where you felt, and one where you felt joy."
A sharp, exasperated sigh escaped her. Great. Another cryptic puzzle.
"Now, back to work."
"I could start now,"
she shot back, a spark in her eye.
"Five things that pissed me off today? I can list them."
"You will adhere to the schedule. My time is not yours to waste."
"Fine,"
she muttered, crossing her arms stubbornly.
"I was only wondering about the structure of the training."
"Then consider your first lesson,"
Darkov said, already turning away,
"is patience."
He knelt. A soft, radiant light bloomed in his cupped hands, a golden energy that felt both sacred and absolute.
RIIIP!
The air fractured. The familiar stone corridor of the tavern lay several feet below the tear. It defies every single law of physics. Magic.
She leapt through, landing with a practiced, low crouch. Smooth. Definitely improving.
"Help needed in the kitchen!"
Cassira's hurried voice sliced through the silence from the bar entrance.
Strangely, she didn't feel the usual drain. A faint, invigorating energy was actually flowing through her.
"I'm on my way!"
Cassira was already in costume, rehearsing her steps, a knot of nervousness visible in her shoulders.
I don't look up to her anymore. Our core natures were worlds apart. In this body, I was looking nothing more than Cassira's glorified servant.
Her routine presence meant no more stares. She was wallpaper; invisible until someone required a drink or a chore.
"Do they always have to leave the stinking garbage for me?"
She dragged the heavy bin out into the garden,silent, shadowed, and the site of their first, violent meeting. With the green eyed man.
"Just when I'm getting my strength back! I'm gonna show them!.."
Sighed desperately.
"..Whatever. I still refuse to be the janitor."
As she cursed and dumped the trash, she felt a sudden, sharp pressure clamp onto her arm. She spun.
"What the hell?"
It was a yellow, canine-like creature,one of the area's bizarre fauna.
"Hey, little… girl,"
she murmured, leaning in to check its gender before reaching to pet it.
"YOU BITCH-"
She tried to pull back, seeing its eyes, but it was too late. The creature's body dissolved into a heap of rotting ash right at her feet.
Nixaris's eyes swept over her with icy indifference. He stood her ground, meeting the hostile gaze of the body that had instinctively activated its guard.
"You will comply."
The command was a deep, grating sound.
"Looking for round two?"
she challenged, a tremor of fury in her voice.
The Death Bringer smirked slightly, almost enjoying this little spectacle. For him, a small, weak girl defying him using the body he had strengthened was... pathetic.
He wouldn't harm her because he needed to use this body right now. He felt a new, vile sensation because he hadn't seen the Princess in so long.
"Get lost!"
she shrieked.
Her gaze flickered down to the putrefied remains. The guilt was a cold knot in her stomach.
How many innocent things had I accidentally destroyed?
The Death Bringer not into conversation like always: he swiftly knocked her off her feet and effortlessly hoisted her over his shoulder.
Her breath hitched in a raw gasp. Panic.
"Put the boy down!"
Darkov's booming voice ripped through the quiet night air.
This time, he didn't hesitate. Fury was his weapon.
"Boy?"
The Death Bringer turned, a flicker of irritation in his eye.
He tossed caution aside. He was an Echo Formation, a threat. His rage was absolute.
"This weak woman has usurped control of a man's body!"
The sudden, brutal truth hit her like a punch. She jerked her head toward Darkov.
Her heart hammered against the Death Bringer's shoulder.
I was supposed to tell him myself! But that was a massive, untrustworthy confession.
The look Darkov gave her was utterly devastating. It made her feel despicable.
"The misuse of power only brings ruin. Release her."
Her? What? He believes the literal embodiment of the death-bringer over me? If I had confessed, he'd have just buried me in chores.
The instant her feet touched the ground, she rushed to Darkov.
The disappointment clouding his face was a stronger force than any monster.
She glanced behind her, just in case.
"Wait. He's gone?"
Dammit! I hated that Death Bringer. He turned every situation into a convoluted disaster.
Darkov's internal storm was palpable. He deliberately avoided her eyes, his expression etched with profound disillusionment.
Why is he acting like I personally betrayed him? He's making me feel like a backstabber.
What was my story now? 'I'm a soul from a different dimension who took over Gralik'?
She let out a shaky breath.
"Who are you, really? Are you an actual Echo Bender? Whose side are you on?"
His voice was strained, thick with confusion rather than simple anger.
"Easy, now. Your undying faith in me is truly heartwarming."
He looked at her with pure disdain, like she was something rotten.
But he had shown me genuine secrets hours ago. If he suspicious me of being a hostile spy, he was a massive liability.
"I couldn't tell you at first because my entire experience has been utter madness everything was bullshit . I still haven't processed it myself."
Her throat was dry and tight.
"You are ungrateful."
His words were a physical lash.
"I-"
"Get out of this house. Now!"