Page 89 of Storm of Shadows
I take a step back, wanting to put some distance between me and the undead creature. I stare down at the metallic box. Despite its small size, it’s heavy in my hands.
“Open it,” the wraith urges, her thin lips curling into a heinous smirk.
There’s something in the goblin’s expression that makes my stomach knot with dread. My fingers hesitate around the silver clasp.
The others all watch me intently, waiting for me to open it. With a deep breath, I undo the clasp and swing back the box’s lid.
When I see what’s inside, I scream and slam it shut. My hands tremble around the box, and it almost falls from my grasp. The wraith throws back her oversized head and cackles. The jaws of the three skeletons clatter.
“What is it?” Natharius asks, his brows furrowing as he examines the box’s exterior.
I frantically shake my head at him. I can’t answer that question. Saying the words out loud will make it real. It’s better to convince myself I imagined what I saw inside the box.
Taria gently lifts my fingers from around the box, freeing it from my grasp. I offer little resistance, glad for the horrific object to be out of my hands.
The priestess slowly raises the box’s lid until its contents are revealed. She doesn’t scream like me but stares down at the inside, frozen in place.
Caya approaches, peering at the contents, but Taria slams the lid shut before she can glimpse what lies within.
Taria raises her head, her expression hardening as she looks at the wraith. “Where did you get this? Who does it belong to?”
The wraith grins. “The Ghost Woods are filled only by the dead. If it hasn’t come from yourselves, how else do you think we’ve gotten such a fresh eye?”
I choke at the word. The image of what I glimpsed flashes through my mind. I’m sure I sway in the wind, unable to shake away the nausea drowning me.
Taria’s gaze falls on the box once more, and her hands tremble like mine did. The priestess doesn’t seem to notice as Caya yanks the box from her hands and tears off the lid.
With an anguished scream, Caya swings her golden sword at the nearest skeleton and severs the head from its spine. The skull falls, landing on the ice-covered ground and rolls downhill to the left. The rest of the skeleton collapses in a heap of bones, the enchantment severed by the light magic singing through Caya’s holy sword.
She thrusts her blade at the wraith. “What have you done to my brother?”
The undead goblin clicks her tongue at Caya. “Now, now, there’s no need for that attitude.”
“You gouged out his eye!” Caya roars.
“He’s perfectly alive,” the wraith replies. “Well, maybe not perfectly.”
Caya snarls, clutching the box to her chest. Her hand tightens around the hilt of her sword. “Where is he? What do you want from him?”
“My master wants nothing from him,” the wraith says. “What he wants is the one that failed him all those years ago.” Her spectral head snaps in Natharius’s direction.
“I failed him?” the demon scoffs. “I think Mulgath will find that he is the one who failed himself. Though I am the Prince of Pride, that doesn’t mean that I am granted with the miraculous ability to prevent mortals from dying.”
The goblin wraith only offers him a thin smile. “I am but a messenger. You can discuss such matters with the master himself.”
I frown at Natharius. “Do you know who’s taken Juron?”
“Likely Mulgath Kharak,” he says, “an orcish necromancer who vastly overestimated his own abilities.”
“The one that sought the Amulet of Kazhul and died inside the lake?”
“Indeed.”
“Where is he?” Caya demands, her attention returning to the wraith. “Where have you taken my brother?”
“To the master’s fortress, of course,” the undead goblin replies. “If you wish to be reunited with your brother, I can show you the way.” She raises her translucent blue hand, gesturing to the trees from which they appeared.
“Absolutely not!” Natharius roars, before Caya can take a single step in that direction. He whirls around to face me, his crimson eyes blazing. “Don’t tell me you think this is a good idea?”