Light Chasers (The World of Lasniniar Book 0)

  — Chapter Fifteen —

  Captive

  The elf gained consciousness slowly, the sounds around him making little sense. There were strange, echoing rustles. The air was thick and humid, reeking of rotting vegetation. The surface beneath him was cool and unyielding, pitted with small bumps and crevices.

  Where was he? Who was he?

  The elf opened his eyes, hoping to find answers. Wherever he was, it was dark. He blinked several times and waited for his eyes to adjust. His surroundings gradually came into focus. He was in a cave, surrounded by other sleeping forms. He sat up, hoping to get a better look. His body felt weak, his limbs heavy.

  What had happened? Why couldn’t he remember?

  “Ah, you’re awake.” A smooth, male voice floated to him from the darkness.

  There was a swish of movement as the speaker crouched beside him. His skin was the palest the elf had ever seen. His long hair was the color of midnight and lay smoothly behind his pointed ears. His dark eyes seemed bottomless, framed by angular brows. He had a long, aquiline nose, and a narrow chin. His lips looked dark in contrast with his fair skin, sly and sensual. The elf felt as though he should recognize this stranger, but his mind still felt clouded.

  “Here, drink this.” The familiar stranger held out a silver goblet. “It will make you feel better.”

  The elf hesitated, disturbed by something he could not explain, but the stranger’s dark gaze calmed him. Why not drink? He was thirsty, after all.

  The stranger smiled as the elf tilted the goblet against his lips. The rim of the vessel was cool, but the liquid inside was strangely warm. It was thick and had a metallic tang that filled the elf’s mouth. At first he was repulsed by it, but as the liquid traveled down his throat to settle in his stomach, he felt a change go through him. His entire body tingled and his nerves sang. He felt himself growing strong, stronger than he had ever felt before. He gulped the contents of the goblet down to the last drop.

  As the strange power surged through the elf’s body, he also felt his mind becoming clearer. His memories began to bubble to the surface.

  Yes, he had seen this stranger before. There had been children. The elf could remember trying to help the children. As his memories came into focus, he saw another male elf with long, white hair. His golden eyes were filled with anguish. He cried out a single word in a broken voice.

  “Numril!”

  The elf’s mind reeled as that one word opened a floodgate inside him. A lifetime of memories rushed through him, culminating in the moment when the foul creature, whose blood he had just drank, had bitten him. Horrified, he probed his neck with his fingers, pushing aside his long, white hair to do so. His skin was cold to the touch. He felt for punctures and blood. It could not be true. It couldn’t!

  His mounting horror was briefly held at bay when he did not find the wounds he was expecting. Although it was cool, his skin was dry and smooth. His hair was still white. Only elves had white hair. He comforted himself with this thought.

  Then he felt it. His fingertips brushed against a small circle of slightly raised skin. His stomach dropped. After finding the first, it didn’t take long to locate its twin. The bite mark had already transformed into scars, healed by the blood of his drakhal maker. The creature gave him a cruel smile.

  A tide of despair washed over him, starting in his toes and rising all the way to his temples. All his muscles clenched in rejection until the pressure became unbearable. His lips burst open, filling the cave with echoes of his tortured scream.