ungira struck out fast, its fangs flashing black, coming towards him with lightning speed.
Determination made his mind go quiet. He knew fear, but he didn’t understand why it made others foolish. He never wanted to be foolish. He wanted to be a darukkar, like his father…and only the bravest and strongest of Dakkari could be warriors.
At the last moment, Davik dropped to the ground, though the ungira’s single talon, which had emerged from its long belly for its defense, slashed his side. Its strike cut him but with a small bellow, Davik plunged the stone blade into its belly, where his father said was the ‘hunting spot,’ hearing its hissing shriek in response.
As its black blood spilled over him, as the slithering beast died in a moment, falling on top of him…Davik grinned. He’d done it.
The world sounded muffled underneath the ungira’s bulk. He felt a sharp pinch in his side, from where the beast had cut him. He felt tired. He wanted to close his eyes. It was hard to breathe under the weight of the ungira but he wanted to bring it back to the horde, to show his mother that he’d hunted it. That he was the youngest Dakkari to ever take down an ungira.
“Davik,” Devina sobbed. He heard her on the other side. He sensed that she was pushing, pushing the ungira with all her might. Little grunts and tearful gasps followed. Davik had the odd thought that she would be angry with him. Lomma had just gifted Devina a new dress and now it would be blackened with blood.
Light burst in his vision and air filled his lungs. She’d done it! Devina had actually managed to push off the ungira from where it had him pinned.
“You saved me,” she gasped, her identical eyes wide. He was older, even if it was only by a little bit of time. It was his duty to protect her. “You saved me, Davik.”
He was still gasping from being crushed under the ungira’s weight, still covered in its blood…still grinning.
“Nik, you saved me,” he told his sister.
But that was how it was meant to be.
They had shared everything in life, even their mother’s womb. Why would glory—or death, for that matter—be any different?
Savagely, I was torn from the dream…and it felt like a piece of my soul had been torn away with it.
I gasped, drawing in breath desperately, like I’d been crushed underneath the ungira and not…Davik.
My eyes flew to the horde king, who had me pinned underneath him, who was glaring down at me with his red and glowing gaze, his hand poised at my throat.
“Who are you really?” he growled.
“W-what?” I asked, scared, confused. My head was throbbing, like I’d used my gift. But I knew that I hadn’t. I’d been asleep! I’d been…
Dreaming.
His memories?
Impossible. It had never happened before.
Yet, everything had felt so real. The ungira’s cold flesh, its coiled body, its crushing bulk. The shrill fear in Devina’s voice, her relief so palpable I had felt tears well in my throat. The ground underneath me—no, not me. Him. The warm blood that had bloomed under my—his—tunic.
I was losing my mind.
“How do you know that name?” the horde king growled, his tone furious.
My hand came up to rest on his thick wrist, my fingers brushing the warm gold of his cuffs. His Vorakkar cuffs, ones I’d never seen him without.
His hand at my throat wasn’t squeezing me. It was more to keep me in place, keep me still as he interrogated me.
“Your name?” I whispered, staring up at him. My gift was evolving, I realized. Changing.
Or…was it because I’d entered his mind too many times? Changed his emotions once too many? Had I unknowingly absorbed some of his memories in the process? From his past, of his sister, of his childhood on the plains of Dakkar?
My question made him more enraged. I could sense his restlessness, crawling underneath his skin. He was disturbed.
I was disturbed.
Davik had been young in the dream—no, the memory—no older than ten. And his sister…
He had a sister.
One he loved desperately. I had felt his affection for her, his pride in keeping her safe. Where was she now?
“Is it your name?” I asked, suddenly scared at what he might answer. Because if it was…if I’d just dreamed his memories…
I didn’t know what it meant. I didn’t know if I could stop it.
“Please,” I pleaded with him softly, looking up at him with tears in my eyes, my temples pounding, making the world go