Roark held up a closed fist. The man did not utter a sound, but one simple gesture sliced through the Stav unit like the lash of a whip. Spines straightened, jaws tightened. What sort of cruelty was given by those hands to demand such abrupt discipline?

Kael’s chest was soaked in blood. He was no longer lucid and his sun-toasted skin had gone pallid and sickly, but through the gore, a soft hum of light pulsed with each weak beat of his heart.

With trembling hands, I maneuvered the shard into the bloodied flesh, bile burning my throat when my fingers brushed along the pulpy edges.

Beneath my palm, the new piece shifted, sinking into Kael’s chest, as though an unseen force absorbed it into his body. Craft brightened like a silken web around his body.

No one gasped, no one uttered a sound at the sight of the gilded filaments, and it was frighteningly clear no one could see what was unraveling before my eyes. Unorganized and chaotic, the glow of fibrous magic flitted across the bone, desperate for a purpose, for a command.

I gingerly touched one thread. Heat teased the tip of my finger, and where my hand shifted, so, too, did the glimmering strand. The threads rearranged like Kael’s bloody body and the bone inside were a spool with wool yarn, my hands the needle. With each movement, the strings of gold sutured the new shard into the broken edges of his wound.

My eyes fluttered closed.

The air grew colder. Where candlelight from sconces and chandeliers in the great hall had brightened the room, now the space was doused to misty gray. Shadows stretched up the walls and doorways like creatures so black they seemed to draw whatever was left of the light toward them.

When I lowered my gaze, a scream split from my chest.

Kael had been beneath my palms, but now only a soft glow of his shape remained. Each bone, each divot of his jaw, his spine, his ribs, was outlined in a golden sheen.

I spun around. Village folk, Stav Guard, all stood like radiant starlight beams. Flesh was gone, and it was as though I were witnessing the burn of their souls.

In the eerie silence came a laugh. Low, dark, like fear on the wind.

My scalp prickled with a sense of watchful eyes. I turned again and the blood froze in my veins. Clad all in shadows from cowl to boots to the skeins of inky black flowing off his shoulders, a figure—a creature—stood over Kael’s vibrant form.

Tethered around his body was a thick, golden strand. Like the heavy ropes we used to lift the stuffed fishing nets onto the longships. The opposite end of the strand disappeared into the shadows, like a line to find his way through the darkness.

A vicious grin split from beneath his hood, followed by the slice of wicked copper eyes.