Page 124 of Degradation

My pulse quickens.

This is it.

I kill my headlights and coast to a stop, parking a safe distance away. I don’t dare follow any closer; I’ve come this farby trusting my instincts, and they’re screaming at me to proceed with caution.

I step out of the car, the chill in the air biting through my jacket. The silence is almost deafening, broken only by the occasional rustle of leaves in the wind. I move forward on foot, using the shadows as my ally, each step measured and silent.

I’m a hunter closing in on its quarry, yet the prey is elusive, always one step ahead.

“She’s not here, Devin.”

His voice is thick with derision. With mirth too.

I can’t see the bastard. Can’t figure out where he’s hiding.

Behind me, I feel a flicker of it before I see it, before I recognise what it is.

Fire.

It catches quickly, it engulfs my car with record speed.

I stare at the flames, wondering what it would feel like to step into them, to wrap myself around them, to let their heat and their beauty embrace me.

The screech of tyres rings out, telling me what I already know, that Conrad is gone. That the coward played his trick and then fled.

I’m miles from anywhere. Even the main road is a good hike from here.

A laugh seems to bubble up. It explodes out of me, and I sink to my knees on that muddy, dirty, stick riddled floor.

Is this meant to be a threat? Is this meant to what, put me on warning?

My other brother apparently knows me just as little as Magnus does.

I would hike for days, I would crawl across the longest dessert, through trenches filled with needles, if that’s what it took, if that was what was necessary.

Unlike them, I enjoy the pain, I enjoy the journey.

I don’t need the easy way. I don’t want it.

The fact that I have the strength to do what I know most men would fail at, proves what I am, what I am capable of.

I reach out, taking handfuls of dirt in my hand. It clumps under my nails, it collects there. Is Conrad celebrating right now, does he consider this some sort of ‘win’? Stupid bastard. I’m tempted to sneak my way into Oblivion, to find his pretty little wife and snap her spine in a far more final way than he has.

But that would be too permanent. I have hopes that Conrad might play a more favourable part in all this. He was always the better brother to me, so it stands to reason that he might turn from Magnus.

I shut my eyes, rubbing that dirt over my skin, relishing the coolness of it.

Killing his wife won’t help me get Paitlyn.

But breaking into Oblivion… that might just be the solution I’m looking for.

My lips pull into a grin as it sinks it what the answer to this is, how obvious it’s been this entire fucking time.

Devin

The problem with building supposedly impenetrable fortresses is, everyone assumes they’re certifiably impenetrable, including the fuckers defending them.

They don’t look for chinks, they don’t look for proof that their belief is wrong.