Myria was so cold. She was certain she had never been this cold in her entire life.

  Caught in the spell of the vile creature before her, she could not even shiver. At least that small motion had made the bitter cold somehow bearable. Now all she could do was feel it seeping into her bones.

  “P-please…” she managed to croak out. “S-so… cold…”

  Vizron considered the slight mortal held within his power.

  “This is not cold, mortal,” Vizron said, looking about the room even as the frost was forming on the walls and furniture. His voice was even colder than the air.

  “But were you to return with me to the void, to the dark embrace of Ergochann… then you would know true cold. And fear…”

  Vizron smiled his terrible smile down at Myria as he spoke.

  “…and pain,” he finished.

  Myria wished she could close her eyes, but the power that held her would only allow enough movement for her to rasp out a few words at a time.

  “Shall I take you? I think one with a heart as foul as yours might enjoy it.”

  Myria tried to shake her head in the negative, but she could not. Her eyes were pools of terror. Vizron appreciated that look on a mortal.

  Leaning down, Vizron once again positioned his face directly in front of Myria.

  “Now, to the favor I require. If you do not help me, I will find another mortal who will. You will be left here to die.”

  “E-enetheng!” Myria muttered, insensibly. She had been trying to say “anything”, but she could not move her mouth enough to form the word correctly.

  “Anything?” Vizron asked, and his voice was mocking. “Lady Myria, you are too generous!”

  Then the amusement disappeared.

  “Your friend, the mortal female Avalaine,” Vizron said the word ‘friend’ with contempt, then he continued.

  “You will speak with her, as a friend, and you will convince her to give you this bauble.”

  Myria tried to nod in the affirmative, but could not. She recognized the dull crystal the creature was holding in its hand. It was the jewel Avalaine had received from Sir Gemple when they were at Wademount.

  She did not understand. The creature already held the gemstone in its hand. How then would Avalaine give it to her?

  “B-but—”

  “Yes, mortal,” Vizron said, “you do not understand, and you need not. Convince the woman to give you an object she clearly does not desire. Even one as pitiful as yourself should be able to accomplish that.”

  Anger flared in Myria at both the insult, and as she indeed recalled Avalaine tossing the gemstone aside. Just another trinket given to her by men. She acted as if all the attention and flattery annoyed her. Avalaine never seemed to realize that some women never received gifts or attention from men.

  Myria felt her thoughts flutter then. As if all of her memories were coming to the surface of her mind at once. She felt a foul presence invading her. Despite the cold, she understood the creature was responsible. It was searching her memories.

  “She is quite fair, your friend, is she not?” Vizron asked. “Yet, is she truly your friend?”

  “Avalaine keeps you near so she can feel superior to you. She needs to keep you down to make herself feel special. You know this to be true. These are not my sentiments, but have been taken from your very heart.”

  Myria gritted her teeth.

  “And now you are to be discarded. Married off to someone beneath your station. You are to be bred like a lowly beast, to give sons to a man you do not even know.

  “But Avalaine… she will marry a Prince. You know this to be true. She will become royalty, and you will become a brood mare for some fat, worthless bag of flesh who will mount you at any time he chooses and as many times as he chooses. He will not be faithful, he will dishonor you again and again with younger and prettier females—”

  “SHUT UP!!” Myria shouted, not knowing how she had found the strength.

  Vizron was now highly amused and undeterred.

  “Even were I to obey your command, we would both know my words to be true.”

  He stood, looming over her as he spoke.

  “She has the eye of a Prince, meanwhile you can barely entice a lowly guardsman. Your gods have granted her beauty that men admire and women envy, while they have shunned you, damning you forever to the shadow of your betters.

  “Avalaine has a family that loves and cares for her, while your own father did not even care enough to molest you the way he did your sisters…"

  Myria released a strangled cry. She was now so angry she tried to kick out at the creature, who merely took one step back to avoid the blow. It did not occur to her that she was now moving and talking, and the cold was nowhere near as bad.

  “There,” Vizron said, sneering in triumph. “Isn’t that better?”

  “I AM JUST AS GOOD AS AVALAINE!!” Myria shouted, the terrible cold now completely forgotten.

  Myria stood, the power of the lich no longer restraining her. She faced Vizron with rage in her eyes.

  “Avalaine has never had to work for anything in her entire life! She was born with beauty and status! I had to literally beg my father, on my knees, for him to allow me to come here, and he still did not agree! Only because Avalaine spoke with him did he allow it! You should have seen the look on his lecherous face!”

  Myria’s face was red now, and her fists were balled tightly.

  This novel's true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.

  “He told me…” she began. “He…told me…”

  Vizron already knew what her father had told her, as he had sifted through her mind earlier, but he waited for her to say it.

  “…he told me he wished he had a daughter like her, but it was just his bad luck that he had me.”

  The room fell silent then, and Myria, her anger spent, felt the cold again. She hugged herself and began rubbing her arms. Tears ran down her face, but they froze before they fell. Myria did not attempt to wipe them away.

  Vizron stepped close to her.

  “What if I could make you her better? What if I could grant you the power to control your own fate? To make others bow before you? Would you do anything for such a boon?”

  Myria stared into the red eyes of the creature. Intellectually, she knew nothing but evil could come from this horrible being. This cold, lifeless demon.

  And yet… what fate was she to have otherwise? To be Avalaine’s lapdog forever? To be married off to some barely landed noble who would use her as he saw fit and control every moment of her life?

  The cold was seeping back into her bones. Myria knew she was a lot of things, but she was not stupid. There truly was no choice here. This creature wanted her for now, but if she balked, he would kill her without a second thought otherwise.

  And if he didn’t, this appalling cold would.

  “Will I become… like you?” Myria asked, her decision now made.

  Vizron smiled. Myria did not like his smile. It looked as if the skin of the creature’s face did not want to obey and was instead forced into the expression by unseen hands.

  “No,” said Vizron, “but you will be more than you were.”

  Even though his awful voice sounded harsh and cold, Myria felt as if he meant the words to give comfort.

  “Then…” Myria swallowed hard, steeling herself. “Then my answer is yes.”

  Vizron stepped in close to her without hesitation. His arm snaked around her waist and he roughly drew her to him.

  Even as he bent down toward her, Myria panicked.

  Is he going to kiss m— was her last thought.

  Her last thought as a human, at least.

  Vizron’s mouth closed over Myria’s, but this was no kiss, as Myria expected. No cold, probing, blackened tongue penetrated her mouth.

  Instead, she felt a brutal suction as Vizron’s mouth sealed over her own.

  She felt the air being drawn out of her, and then she felt a vicious wrenching from somewhere deep inside of her.

  At once, some primitive alarm went off in her mind, telling her she was in true mortal danger. Her hands flew up to Vizron’s chest, and she pushed against the creature, but she had no chance of dislodging him.

  More than the breath from her body was drained out of Myria. Vizron finished his task with remorseless efficiency.

  Then he dropped Myria’s lifeless body to the ground.

  Afterwards, he remained motionless in the bitterly cold room for long hours. He only stirred when a sensation came to him. A familiar feeling of a former acquaintance. He turned his head to the west.

  My pawn, he thought. The pawn has traveled to this place.

  Vizron felt some elation. Now he would not have to go back to kill the fool mortal later.

  He was faintly surprised that the pawn had arrived here so quickly. Vizron knew the vagaries of time and space on the mortal plane differed from the void, so it was possible he did not have true understanding of how much time had passed when he had transported himself from the battle with the mortals in the Elven Forest.

  Though he did not fear the pawn, the bothersome mortal could have alerted those with true power in this realm. As he had thought many times, those more powerful that he had been defeated at Wademount, so he had best be careful.

  He had managed to command the bats, owls, crows, and other animals that flew to kill anything flying east into this land. He suspected the pawn might have tried to warn its beloved mate, but he could not allow that.

  Vizron sent out a mental command. It was time for his old pawn to meet the new.

  ***

  Avalaine was not feeling well. There had been a nausea building in her for days now, but mostly she had been able to ignore it.

  After talking with Master Crickney, she didn’t know if the nausea was some illness, or just apprehension and growing dread.

  She had left Master Crickney’s study after he had explained the contents of his missive to Viscount Brandu, and now she hurried back to her own chambers with the small, tightly wound scroll.

  Avalaine was followed at close distance by two guards. She had evaded them earlier as she and Master Crickney visited the sites of the animal slaughters, but she had found them waiting for her outside of Crickney’s study as she left him.

  They were visibly annoyed with her, but she knew they would never give voice to it. Avalaine told herself she would apologize later, but right now she was too agitated.

  What was happening? This morning, her most urgent crisis was the thought of Garrick Varsus marrying a younger, prettier woman. And now… what?

  Avalaine knew she had no direct evidence of anything more than some perverse animal killings, which was bad enough… but things were beginning to feel dark.

  As Avalaine and her guards moved through the castle, she passed several windows and realized that it was indeed dark outside. There were few people about the halls at this hour. Had she and Crickney really talked the entire day away?

  Finally, she reached her own bedchambers, and the guards stopped outside the door, as they always did.

  Avalaine entered and turned to face the guards.

  “I’ll be but a few moments. Then we will go to see my father,” she said to the guards.

  The older guard, Lucas, a tall man of solid build with sandy brown hair, nodded at her, but it was the younger guard, Milton, who voiced his assent.

  “Yes, milady, take your time, and we will deliver you to your father.”

  Avalaine thanked the guards, then closed the door to her chambers.

  The servants had left her room lighted by candles, but the bright moonlight shining through the large windows and the door to her balcony also helped illuminate the chamber.

  Avalaine noted that her belongings from the travel carriage were still not here. She supposed Myria had not done as she asked because of her outburst earlier.

  She knew she would have to apologize to Myria. Sometimes she took things really hard, but even more, Avalaine felt she had been wrong to speak to her friend that way, and she would tell Myria as much the next time she saw her.

  For now, though, she had to send a message to Viscount Tempus Brandu.

  Crossing the large chamber, she moved to the corner just inside of her balcony. Here was where she kept her birds, most notably the one she needed right now, Flutterface.

  Flutterface was not exactly hers, she knew, as the small pigeon considered the castle in Orel, far to the south, to be its home. Thus, when she released it shortly, it would fly directly there without fail.

  Viscount Brandu had sent her the pigeon via carriage many years earlier, and she had sent one in return. They had remained in frequent contact since that time.

  Avalaine smiled at the memory of Brandu reacting to her declaring that the pigeon’s name was now Flutterface. The look of confusion was priceless to her. She enjoyed shaking Brandu up a little. He was so stuffy most of the time.

  Flutterface had a cage in her own chamber, which was most unusual. Normally, birds were handled by the Birding Master here at Mount Lirra, but she had insisted that her birds be kept in her chambers.

  She always felt a thrill when she woke up and found Flutterface or one of her other birds back in their cages after a long absence.

  Now, though, she only felt nausea and more dread.

  Carefully, she opened the door to the cage and reached for the bird. It regarded her with mild interest, but no alarm, as it was used to her presence and knew she was not a threat.

  Avalaine moved to attach the scroll to the pigeon’s leg, but was startled when a loud pounding came from the door.

  She did not even have a chance to collect her thoughts before the loud banging came again.

  Moving slowly toward the door, Avalaine called out.

  “Guardsman…? Lucas? Milton?” Avalaine had stopped advancing. She could see the shadow of feet in the space between the bottom of the door and the floor.

  “Guardsman?” she called out again.

  “NO,” came a reply from beyond the door. The voice was unfamiliar, and did not sound friendly. She shrank back.

  Avalaine felt a rush of fear wash over her.

  ***

  At the western edge of Teyscha, three men rode hard in the night.

  In fact, they had been riding hard for several nights, almost two weeks now since they had left Varsus Province.

  Baron Garrick Varsus and the two men he had chosen to accompany him, Matthias and Wendell, all knew that time was of the essence. They had driven the horses as much as they could without running the animals into the ground.

  By the Baron’s estimation, they were just now crossing into Teyscha, and if they pushed hard, they could be at Mount Lirra this very night.

  He just hoped they weren’t too late.