“To make you stay,” he said matter-of-factly, as if it was a perfectly reasonable thing to do. He crossed closer toward her, then dropped a dead fox in front of her. “I brought food.”

Aurora watched in perplexed silence as he set a fire, not using flint or any other method, but the same way she had, with a few sparks of skyfire. His were smaller and more controlled; he did not scorch the ground as she had, only sparked the flame he needed. Then he set about skinning the game he had caught and roasting it over the fire.

He ignored her through most of the work, but he was not entirely solitary. She watched him move about the camp, noting when he would pause and stare intently in a direction, as if having a conversation with someone that she could not see. He did that again and again, sometimes for long periods, other times only a brief, meaningful look over his shoulder. And though she could not hear the discussions he was having—he had shrouded his mind too well—she was aware of the swarm of dark spirits that collected around him. They moved with him like an entourage, clinging to him as if he were their god. And she supposed in some ways, he was. They wanted nothing more than death and destruction, and he offered them that opportunity.

She strained to maintain her shields against the sheer intensity of the souls around her. Some of them had to be centuries old. The decay she felt went so deep, it would be impossible to excise. It was no wonder that the Stormlord’s conjured tempests always affected her so strongly, if these were the souls he was using. And from what she could feel, he had dozens upon dozens more. If he let these souls loose, the whole world would burn, not just Pavan.

Eventually, he took the meat off the fire and carried the stick over toward her, kneeling beside her. Her tore a piece of flesh off with his fingers and held it up to her lips. She waited for the catch, but he only held the piece of meat closer, an impatient look crossing his eyes.

It was humiliating, but she found her stomach rumbling fiercely in response, as if she had not eaten in days. She was reminded that she had no idea how long she had been unconscious. And it was safer in the short term if she did not openly question his kindness. She needed to understand why he wanted her. So she opened her mouth and took the meat he offered, chewing slowly. He sat back on his haunches, pulling off a piece for himself.

She took a second piece of meat, pleasantly surprised to find the ache in her head lessening, if only a little. As he took his bite, she gathered the courage to ask, “Why are you doing this?”