Page 111 of Blood Fist

Corric hadn’t been alone! If he squinted, he could see the faint lines of the painting the Clansmen ancestors had painted generations ago. If he traced them, he might find his way back to his friends.

Hugging the wall, he followed the lines until he finally saw them. They were standing shoulder to shoulder, faces lax as they stared at the wall.

At Corric.

They were lookingright at him,but their eyes remained dim with ignorance. Somehow, he could see through the shifting grey wall of rock, but they couldn’t see him. Corric slapped his hands against the wall. He shouted until his ears rang, but they couldn’t hear him.

Breath ragged; he felt the first stirrings of panic.He’d been so preoccupied trying to find a way out that he didn’t really consider his predicament, but now? Now his teeth were chattering and the grip on his sword was clammy. Was it the cold sweat itching down his back or was it getting colder? Corric wasn’t sure.

Despite the cold, the room was humid. The air was thick and musty. Old. It smelled like a trunk that hadn’t been opened in years. It left a terrible taste on the back of his tongue. Looking over his shoulder, he scanned the darkness for any sign of light. Movement. But all he found was a void so impenetrable it was darker than the plains on a moonless night.

Turning back to the wall, Corric was about to scream for Derry and Halm again when he felt a puff of air on the back of his neck, frigid and forceful enough to ruffle his hair.

“There you are,” A voice spoke right beside his ear, so close he could hear the creaking of its jaw and the click of a tongue off the roof of its mouth. “Scale breaker.”

Corric was paralyzed. He couldn’t move away from the presence as it grew heavier and heavier. Where the air before had been humid, now it waswet,sticking to Corric’s skin like a shadow, slithering around until he was completely consumed by the void behind him.

Scale breaker.The thing drew the word out until it rattled around Corric’s skull like an echo.

“W-Who are you?” he chattered, his teeth knocking together.

“I’ve been waiting for you,” the thing said with a sigh. Pinpricks prodded the skin of his cheeks, a facsimile of the comfort of a hand against his skin. “For a very long time.”

Corric had never felt so helpless. Even when he wasunder his father’s thumb. But he was young then, too young to know better. Now he did.

Now he was Stone Blade.

Closing his fingers around his sword, he forced himself to regulate his breathing and ignore the staccato rhythm of his heart. The weight of his weapon was comforting. It reminded him of his pack, his clan, his strength. Slowly, his limbs came back to life. Like he was submerging them into a warm bath, he welcomed the tingles of life in his fingertips.

With that came clarity. Corric had heard this voice before. On the beach with Schok. It had been so fast, a quick sentence that cut through him like a blade so sharp there was a delay in pain.

Corric’s chest felt hollow. “Sinestrus.”

A rumbling chuckle rumbled against his ear. “I planned for you for a very long time, Scale Breaker. Manipulated the very fabric of time itself to see you born.” There was such glee in his words that it made Corric sick. “Weak of body butstrong.A strength born out of hate. Warped by pain and anger, I needed you low. Beaten, bruised. Ready for the hand I would hold out to you.”

It made no sense. Sinestrus was breathing in his ear, spewing his disgusting rhetoric, but Corric didn’t understand.

“I have nothing for you,” he asserted through clenched teeth.

Sinestrus hissed. “Oh, little omega, but you do. You may have escaped my plans, but you are, at your core, still weak. Such a fragile little thing, born with such potential…it didn’t take much to convince your father to have you.One more, Krait.” his voice husked with excitement. “He was so disappointed at your birth. Nothing but an omega. He didn’t see it."

The wet smell grew in intensity until it choked Corric, gagging him with something he could only describe as unfettered glee.

“Where he saw a useless omega, I saw an opportunity. You just needed a little…pain.”

With a small gasp, Corric finally put it all together.

“You made my father sell me to Rappa, knowing what he would?—”

“Break you? Yes.” The final syllable dragged. “His cruelty would turn weak to strong, pain to hate. And from that despair, only I could be your salvation.”

The pinpricks on his face dug in, dragging his face forward into the rock, forcing him to bare his neck. Corric grunted against the exertion of fighting it, ignoring as the pain from the small points of pressure grew.

“You think they made you strong?” Sinestrus spat. “But all they did was prolong the inevitable, Corric Tylock. You are still weak.”

He shook his head, fighting the drag of claws on his skin.

“Weak enough to take the hand I’m offering you.”