Broken mind? Gizelle!
The second head smirked, hearing Scarlet’s sudden realization. Such a sweet thing, so trusting. And you did most of the work for me, winning her faith and affection, drawing her out of her safe place. All I had to do was give her your own words, push her to the edge, and then tell her exactly how to fix everything.
A chorus of voices rose like a storm all around Scarlet, drowning out Saina’s far-off song. The dryad would have covered her ears if she’d been able to. It was impossible to pic
k individual phrases from the chaos.
For you, perhaps, the wyrm scoffed. I have much more sophisticated minds.
Scarlet could feel its self satisfaction, its pride.
The broken one merely needed a little direction, a little focus... the wyrm demonstrated, pulling a few of the voices forward, insistent and emotional. Mal’s dragon: She is our treasure. We must get her off this island. Scarlet heard her own voice: It’s all my fault.
And the wyrm’s voice, thick with kindness and sorrow as its heads circled her: If you kill the tree, Scarlet will be free... she can go to safety with everyone else... release her from the tree. You can fix everything! You can help!
Scarlet, even knowing what the monster was and the lies it told, was dazzled by the promise in its words.
I have to be careful when the stag can hear us, one of the heads hissed.
Fortunately, he is not always there, the other head chuckled.
But when he is... we do not understand why she stops listening, the things she feels, the first pouted.
It is too bright, between them, the second agreed.
How could this all happen so quickly?
Scarlet hadn’t meant to ask the question out loud, but the wyrm plucked it effortlessly from her mind.
The broken one can wedge cracks in time. Speed things up, slow them down... It is a curious side effect of her mother’s gift, and because she trusts me, she trusts me to control it for her.
Scarlet felt anger rise in her throat. Gentle Gizelle, whose trust was so hard to win, had been fooled into believing that this voice was her friend. How long had it been whispering to the poor young woman, feeding her out-of-context voices, convincing her of its friendship, and using her to its own purpose?
That’s what happened to the cage, she realized. You aged it, using Gizelle’s magic.
One of the heads—Scarlet had lost track of which was which—laughed triumphantly. The spell that trapped me made two foolish assumptions, it sneered. The first was that time would flow uniformly, that it was an immutable constant.
The second? Scarlet asked, afraid of its answer.
That I have been asleep.
Whatever of Scarlet wasn’t pain was now fear and she would have flung herself away if she had possessed a body to control.
The wyrm’s voice filled the rock around her as both heads spoke. I have watched, and I have waited, and I have learned, and I have stolen, and the world shall fall before me and know my wrath and I will not rest until I have cleansed the surface of the blight of man and taken back my kingdom.
Mal will end you, Scarlet cried desperately. Above the ground or below, he will stop you.
He cannot end me, I am immortal! No one can best me. The wyrm sound more amused than intimidated.
Immortal is not infallible. You’ve been caged before, Scarlet pointed out. You can be caged again!
The wyrm grinned with both of its dire mouths.
But I won’t be. The song will end, the tree will fall, and I will be free at last...
Scarlet could hear the desperation in Saina’s distant song, the strength bleeding from it as she sang her heart out.
Saina, no...