Page 97 of Savage Throne
“And what did you do?”
“I kept walking forward.”
“Good.”
“But. . .”
“Yes?”
“A-are the dead men. . .still following me? P-please check.”
He went silent for almost a good minute before answering. I felt the tension in his grip, the way his muscles coiled as if ready to face whatever horror had followed me out and then he spoke, “They’re not following you anymore.”
I let out an exasperated breath. “O-kay.”
“Do not worry about that anymore.”
My body shivered uncontrollably. “I’m losing it.”
“No. You just have agoodsoul. A bright light. The visions were about guilt and the loss of yourself.”
“But. . .” I wouldn’t open my eyes because I knew tears would spill if I did. “I don’t want to go back to Lei and my sisters crazy.”
“You won’t.”
Chapter sixteen
The Grand Mountain Master
Leo
Monique did it. She finished the final challenge.
As we descended the darkened mountain path, the chill of the night seeped into my bones.
It was a cold that I welcomed—a sharp reminder that I was still here, still alive, and still bound by the decisions I’d made. Decisions that had twisted the course of countless lives—none more so than the woman I now carried in my arms.
Monique.
The new Mountain Mistress.
The reluctant queen that I had carved from innocence and shaped with blood and death.
She saw dead bodies rising up to follow her. Was it the tea? And more important, will that go away in the morning?
She had drunk the tea I had prepared for her.
Dragon’s Pulse.
The name alone carried a legacy older than any of us, whispered in the stories of ancient warlords and warriors who wanted not just victory, but dominion.
It was a brew born of fire and shadow, one that promised power but came with a price. A concoction that pushed the drinker to the edge of what they could bear, pumping them full of adrenaline and inflating their courage to the point of recklessness.
And sometimes. . .beneath that boldness, it summoned demons from the recesses of their minds, blurring the line between what was real and what was an illusion.
It must wear off. I will not forgive myself if I shattered her mind.
I had spent hours preparing that tea for her.
