Page 78 of Hearts Lost

There’s another sound, like a low sigh, and the air thickens and ripples. Now I can’t see the glowing metal spires embedded in the stone of the far wall at all. A gust of air flutters through the room, hot and dry, and my skin pulls tight. Heat poured off the other portal too, the one Lythienne opened in Orryen’s tower. That portal, that strange, twisted knot of magic nestled in the middle of the room, had felt wrong in a way that had set my teeth on edge.

But this? This portal is wrong in a way that makes me feel like my brain might shatter. Revulsion churns in my gut, and my skin crawls. It feels like the portal is leaking something, some thick, viscous oil that reminds me of my earliest nightmares, of waking in my bed feeling like I was drowning, like I was being pulled down into the mouth of some massive, ravenous beast. Some dragon.

And it was all real. Shock ripples through my body like the chimes of the silver bell sundering the silence surrounding my parents’ estate. I’ve been so afraid for so much of my life, terrified of nightmares and darkness, of hidden threats and invisible monsters. I’ve built my entire life around patterns, around strength and control, to keep those imaginary monsters at bay.

But they weren’t imaginary. They were real all along, as cold and solid as the stones of this basement. Another shiver rocks through my body. Ithronel gasps, a soft, sweet, scared sound, and it’s the only thing that keeps me in the room.

Because something is coming through the portal now. The air is still restless, churning and rippling, but something is taking form on the other side. Something so enormous it hurts to watch is pushing through the portal and into my parents’ estate.

And when it finally comes through, my first thought is of course. My greatest fear, my biggest nightmare, is of course what comes through the portal and into the impossible, horrible room in my parents’ impossible, horrible basement.

It’s a dragon.

The black dragon sticks his enormous maw through the portal, followed by his front legs. There’s an impression of more, of spines and scales and sheer, mind-numbing mass, but the dragon stops there, halfway through the portal, and opens his jaws. My body pulls tight. I’m halfway to raising my dagger, as if that thin strip of metal could possibly protect me from dragonfire, when the dragon speaks.

“What is it this time?” the black dragon snaps.

His fiery eyes roam the room, settling briefly on me, and then flickering back to Ithronel in a way that makes my chest feel like it’s caught in a vise.

“Trekkers again?” the dragon asks.

And then the dragon rolls his eyes. It’s such a strange, recognizable gesture that some part of me wonders if I’ve actually lost my mind, if this isn’t all some sort of strange fever dream.

“I won’t even bother asking if their magic’s worth anything,” the dragon grumbles as twin wisps of smoke rise from his nostrils. “And, no, I’m not bumping up the date of your next shipment. Not until you actually find me someone worthwhile.”

Shipment. Another piece of the puzzle slides into my mind with horrifying clarity. New dwarven china. That soapwood divan. Where had my parents been getting these strange things, over and over, for so many years?

Of course. They had a connection to another world. And the trekkers were the currency.

“Both of them?” the dragon asks.

He sounds bored, and it takes a moment for me to realize that his blood-red eyes are now settled on me. My mother makes a strangled yelping sound.

“This is our son,” she says, turning toward me for the first time.

The dragon snorts, sending a cloud of smoke drifting toward the ceiling. His red eyes narrow as he stares at me.

“Aloserin, was it?” the dragon says. “Welcome to the family business.”

He chuckles in a way that makes me want to rip my skin off my body, and then his torso shifts forward, moving in a way that almost looks like he’s not moving at all. Slithering, my mind whispers. Like a snake.

He’s almost reached Ithronel by the time I realize what he’s doing. How he’s stretching his claws around her chair like he’s going to rip her out of the world.

“Stop!” I scream.

The dragon turns to me, his bright eyes flashing. I spin toward my parents, my heart racing in my chest.

“You can’t,” I say. “She— She’s—”

The words feel hollow, meaningless. It’s like the nightmare where I’m trying to scream but I can’t make a sound; my chest feels like it’s cracking open. I can’t lose her, is what I want to say. I love her.

“I would have died without her,” I gasp, and my words sound like a hammer striking a blacksmith’s anvil. “In the void. I would have been lost.”

“You? Went to the void?” a cold voice hisses from the steaming, writhing portal.

My mother’s eyes widen as the blood drains from her face.

“No,” she gasps. “No, Master Rensivar.”