Moving toward the altar, I opened the ancient stone box, withdrawing sage and a tiny jar of frankincense. I dipped the sage into the jar and then placed it onto the altar, watching as flames leaped to life from the magic.
“Did you just use magic?” Lore asked, causing me to turn and look at him.
“Blessed be, Lore,” I whispered, turning back to the altar. “I am of the blood who blessed this land, and I am seeking safe passage through her hand. Blessed be the lost souls, to find the light within the night, they come to thee seeking sanctuary. For those who are lost, and those who need found, blessed be, you’re homeward bound.”
I turned as the mountain lit up with glowing blue runes, stretching as far as the eye could see. Sage bloomed abundantly, opening up to free the scent while the lavender joined to fill the surrounding air. Knox held out his arm, indicating the entrance into the illuminated tunnel that mirrored the mountain walls.
I marveled at the stairs covered in glowing stones that looked as if someone had placed UV lighting beneath phosphate paint. Moving into the tunnel, I listened as it began singing a sultry, soulful tone that mirrored SVRCINA’s Who Are You as we slowly walked deeper onto the spiraling stairs that led down into the unknown.
The female singing switched to the song playing in my mind, and I smiled. The men behind me had no idea that the tunnel was listening to my soul, hearing my worries and fears while I moved further into the sanctuary.
As we reached the bottom of the spiral stone steps, I looked back, noting the runes that warned against entering. Someone had destroyed the sanctuary, and someone else had given those coming to it a dark warning of foreboding. Knox turned, staring at the steps as my eyes watered.
“We’re not supposed to be here.”
“No, they don’t like my kind here, Aria. After all, I am the murderer of witches and wicked things,” Knox snorted, moving ahead of me.
I swallowed hard, following behind him silently, lost in my thoughts. We stepped out of the tunnel into an abandoned village. The scent of decay filled my senses. Altars sat on the side of an enormous cliff, stretching until the mountain opened up, revealing the endless sky. Sacrificed humans still sat on them, long forgotten with moss covering their bones.
I exhaled, stepping further into the village, watching the torches come to life, exposing the hanging bodies now little more than bones. My heart thundered in my chest as ravens gave flight, filling the sky with their shadows as Knox turned, staring back at me with a dark, sinister smile.
“They don’t want you here either, Aria. Interesting, isn’t it?” Knox asked, searching my face before he turned, staring at the angry birds who squawked as feathers rained down from their flight. My eyes studied them, noting that they were corpses. Raven corpses. “Welcome to the Valley of the Dead; home to the Hecate witch line, or those who tried to live without their Hecate name to keep them alive. Hiding couldn’t even save them from the monsters who wanted them destroyed.”
Chapter Forty-Six
We walked through an overgrown meadow flowing with poppy flowers that created a beautiful splash of color to offset the greenery. A deep sense of dread rolled through me, and the altars became fewer, the closer we got to the village. I left the trail without warning, moving toward one altar, needing to know what was on it, and why someone had made it.
I paused before a large, stone slab etched in ancient language around the edges. Pulling the moss away, I studied the symbol for male and firstborn son. My gaze lifted to the petite form that held a decayed babe, molded in place by the moss that had covered him.
Tears pricked my eyes and regret flooded through me. Senseless deaths never felt right. Especially when our grandmother had cursed us because of some fortune told long ago.
“What’s it say?” Knox asked, causing me to jump, his voice catching me off-guard.
“They’re male altars, reserved for male children of Hecate witches, but they’re all wrong. The poppy seeds keep the dead here, luring them to remain so the altar would be worthless. The sage is common, and it should be Palo Santo, which would purify the spirit. Mixing rosemary and sage would give them masculine energy since they’re male. This is just normal sage, which isn’t strong enough for the ceremony to send the deceased to another womb able to offer them life.”
“There are hundreds of them, witch. Maybe they used them as sacrifices instead of worrying about carrying them into the next life.”
“That is blasphemy.” I turned, glaring at him as I laughed soundlessly. “You find everything we do evil, don’t you?”
“Every single thing,” he admitted, a chill filling his tone.
“Am I evil when I’m naked with you?” I asked, slowly stepping forward, taunting him. “Or when I have your cock between my lips, does that too, feel evil? When your blood pumps through your veins and the sweat cools upon our bodies, do you think what we shared was evil?” His eyes dropped to my lips, and a sardonic smile lifted his.
“Do I think when I fuck you, that you could be something evil sent to lure me into a trap? Absolutely Aria,” he whispered huskily. “Witches are sexual beings, who often more times than not, lure men to their deaths with the promise of pleasure their magic pussies deliver to us.”
“If I am so evil, then end it, King Karnavious. Put us both out of our misery. Come on. Take my head and be done with it. I’m tired of you and your hatred of me.”
“Oh, Aria, you don’t get to die on me.” His jaw clenched at my words, his eyes slowly searching mine as silent tears filled them.
“Someday, you’re going to realize that you’re the evil one and not me,” I swallowed, glaring at him before I snorted softly, moving to the next altar, scraping off the moss, then moving to the next.
I slipped back to the trail, cleaning my hands off before I stopped dead in my tracks at the sign marking the town. Instead of welcoming visitors, it warned to ‘get the fuck out of here’ with death runes.
“We’re really not supposed to be here,” I muttered, groaning before my attention moved to the first house.
Huge claw marks had severed the protection wards written upon the wooden door. The hair on my nape stood as a chill wrapped around me, tightening in my throat as sweat beaded on my brow. I balled my hands into fists and canted my head to the side, reading the warning. Magic was in play; cold, lifeless magic, judging by my reaction to it.
Beware the Forbidden Witch. She, who is of Hecate’s womb, is unwanted within this home. Blessed are the forgotten and those that have strayed, for in their darkest day, they found their truest way. May we remain forgotten, may we remain sane, for fear of the mad witch who bathed the realms in its darkest, wicked ways.
“Jesus, fuck! What the hell is this place?” I asked the door as if it was going to answer me.
“It’s the Valley of the Dead, in the Dark Mountains that lay between realms. Your realm and mine, Aria,” Knox whispered against my ear, causing me to jump again. “We’re in the middle where people came to escape persecution for being together. Couples who had fallen in love or those who wished for a new beginning without the war destroying them,” he explained solemnly.
“What the hell? Did you take creeper lessons from Greer? Put a bell on it!” I snapped, hating that he’d scared me right out of my skin. I leveled him with a chilling look, and he laughed softly as I turned back, frowning at the sign. “Who is the Forbidden Witch?” I asked softly as his heated breath fanned my neck.
“That’s the million-dollar question, isn’t it?” He kissed my neck, forcing me to step away from his lips. Turning to face him, I glared. “What does it say?”
“You can’t read it?” I asked, feeling a small sense of victory.
“No. It precedes me.”
“It says, beware the prick that plays thy heart, for he is a loser of the lost art. Though his prick is thick, and sometimes it plays nice, it comes too fast, with strings attached, and has a hefty price. Thou shall not let your guard down, for the moment that you do, he’ll s
care you and won’t prepare you for the horrors awaiting you. The man is broken, his grief outspoken, and such a lost cause that his ghosts still haunt his pathetic ass, for only they would welcome his cold, dead heart, blah, blah, blah. Then end.”
“Does it indeed? Because that word right there,” he said, pointing to the sign, “that’s your family name in your native language, isn’t it?”
“I thought you couldn’t read it?” I countered.
“I can’t, but you just confirmed what I thought it was. Should I kiss you as a thank you?” he asked.
“No, does it look like I need a kiss? My face is dented in, asshole,” I frowned, moving toward the side of the house to peer in through the window.
I stared at my reflection, wincing at the damage. Exhaling, I caught Knox watching me with an unguarded look in his eyes. He didn’t enjoy seeing me hurt. That much was obvious. Although, he hadn’t helped the situation or offered to rectify it. Men sucked with their bipolar mood swings that changed faster than the weather in Texas during the spring.
Using my good arm, I rubbed away the dust from the window. Cupping my hands and peering through the ancient glass, I noted an altar, an overturned table, and grimoires that were little more than dust-covered leather bindings now. Whatever happened here, it had happened a long time ago.
I studied the cottages, all built with the same thatched roofs in varying states of decay. There was no scent of rotting food or wood, only the decomposition of bodies and earth. Moss blanketed the roofs and outer walls of the small square cottages.
The silence of the place was deafening, and the deeper we walked into the village, the more profound it became. We were in a site long forgotten. It was an abandoned beauty left in ruins that lay untouched by the world outside the high stone walls.
We passed more doors covered in the thick green moss, and I zeroed in on the warning and claw marks that once again marred the doors. I tilted my head, trying to make out the language etched into them, but came up empty.
“What language is that one?” I asked quietly, trying not to disturb the silence of this place, and yet needing to know what language marked the door on the largest house.
“Mine. Do you want to trade information?” he asked, smirking while he waited for my answer.
“No, it’s not worth it. You’d just use what I’d tell you to attack my people.”
I stepped closer to the cottage, running my fingers over the design etching into it. I yanked my hand away as it glowed. My head pounded, and I lifted my hand to my forehead. Stepping back, I watched as the other doors started glowing as hidden wards pulsed to life. The pain in my head grew until Knox grabbed my arm, pulling me with him, away from the door while studying my face.
“Careful. Most of these doors are warded to protect from you and your family line, Aria.”
Frowning at his warning, I moved to the side of the house and peered in through the thick glass, staring at the upturned furniture. The table had massive cuts in its top, and the depth of the sword marks sent a chill racing down my spine.
It was in the same disarray as the other cottage I’d seen. They were all ransacked, and those who had lived within them had vanished without a trace.
Chapter Forty-Seven
I turned to look out through the open meadow and gasped. Hundreds of skeletal remains lay around the field, each connecting to the next by either limb or skull. My hands trembled as my heart pounded in my chest. My breathing grew labored as I stepped forward to study the scene. I took in their moth-eaten clothing and what remained from the harsh elements and insects.
“Jesus,” I whispered breathlessly.
Everything inside me said to turn and leave, but the table sitting in the middle of the remains drew me forward. My fingers trembled as I reached out, running my fingers over the skull of a toddler who sat cradled in her mother’s lap. I fought the tears taking in Hecate’s mark that covered the poor thing’s skull and peered at the others at the table.
Their clothes were of higher quality, which was discernable even through the rot. This family was in the middle of the dead, posed and left there as if they’d taken a meal while the others lay dying around them.
“Tell me what you see, Aria,” Knox asked softly, and I shook my head.
“Evil,” I stated, turning to look at him. I whispered it, accusation marring my shaky tone. “Pure evil that thinks it is good.”
“Indeed, but who decides what is evil, and what is good? What you see as evil, we see as a right to be unoppressed by our oppressors,” he countered, peering over my shoulder toward the family of corpses. “Sometimes, the world needs a villain more than it needs a hero, Aria. Every villain starts out thinking they’re doing what is right, or what is needed. The world around them forces them to become the monster. I’m the monster your family created by taking those I loved away from me. You’re the monster I am creating because I am threatening to do the very same thing to your family. Which one of us is the hero, and which is the villain? Who decides? It depends on which side you stand, does it not?”
“If we are to kill the children, then let us burn. They are the only innocent beings of war. They could not choose a side or know their mind. They’re innocent of crimes, and not wicked of ways. If we are to burn, then let us all burn together. Let us destroy one another, but never the ones who have yet to harm another soul.”
“War isn’t black and white, Aria. In the Nine Realms, your birth decides your side of a war.”
“I don’t believe that. Not for one moment would I decide to be evil just because of my parentage. In fact, my mother taught me my most important lessons in life. She showed me that birth doesn’t decide who your parents are. I would always choose the side that is fighting to protect innocent lives.”
“And yet you refuse to join me because of the side your family is choosing,” he stated as his jaw clenched, and I frowned. “This is one of several villages attacked at the start of this fight, Aria. You have yet to see real evil.”
“Are the events in this village your doing?” I whispered, turning back to look out over the dead as his words ripped through me. “Did you murder these children?” I pried, turning watery eyes to his.
My family created Knox, the monster he became was because we’d failed to protect him from our people. Now he was returning it tenfold and was planning to force me to help him. Maybe it was karma’s way of righting a wrong, but I intended to fight him to prevent him from succeeding.
“This happened a long time ago, Aria.”
“I didn’t ask you when it happened. I asked you if you murdered children for your war.”
“Leave it alone, witch. You won’t like the answers you find here.” He turned, leaving me alone with the dead.
I closed my eyes as tears slipped free. Anger rushed through me as the wind picked up, causing the sense of foreboding to slither around me. Grasping my throat, I looked for a higher vantage point.
Silently, careful not to disturb the dead, I moved to an altar, frowning deeply. I crawled on top, staring down at the deceased. I had to get higher to see the design of the large grid.
I walked to the tallest house and slipped inside, carefully climbing the stairs, fully aware that Knox was once again behind me. He was like a silent shadow, enjoying my horror at what he’d done to the witches of this village.
At the window, I stared down at the circular pattern of bodies spread out through the entire meadow. It was a beautifully morbid display of the dead with colorful flowers blooming through the earth. Some flowers had pushed through the ribcages or mouths of the dead to reach for the sun.
“We are not in Norvalla, right?” I asked.
“We are close enough to it that these people shouldn’t have been here,” he whispered against my shoulder as if he feared I would retaliate against him for the crimes he’d committed against the witches, and planned to subdue me should I put up a fight.
“She was just a baby. What crime could she have committed against
you, King Karnavious?” I murmured, turning to peer up at him.
“They had no right to be this close to Norvalla after what they’d done to the queen and prince,” he repeated, as if it explained everything, or should. “They trespassed where they weren’t welcome.”
“So the big, bad King of Norvalla slaughtered them? Babes included because he feared she was a threat to him and his people,” I whispered thickly through the emotions tightening my throat. “We trespass now against the dead. We shouldn’t be here. It is forbidden. I can feel the warning.”
“So can I, but its close enough to my land that I am still the ruling king here.” His eyes searched mine for more argument, and I shook my head, knowing he wouldn’t leave no matter what I said.
“Did you place their corpses in this pattern or did the dark witches come here afterward and create the grid?”
“What does it fucking matter? They’re dead.” Knox stared out the window, noting the pattern I spoke of, and turned, watching me. “It’s a grave. Who cares how they were placed after death?”
I frowned, noting the way we studied each other’s reactions. It was as if we expected to glimpse some explanation for the body’s positions, and their placement on the field. Hundreds of corpses were placed in circular patterns, all touching somehow, except the furthest one that pointed west through the small hole in the cliffside.
In the middle of the design was the family. Their hands, all except the babes, touched together, pointing west? It was a power grid formation, similar to the one I found in the other village, but it normally took living witches to wield the magic.
Plus, there were large, raised altars further out that I hadn’t noticed before, and on them were what appeared to be feminine corpses, dressed in purity gowns. Moss had grown over the altars, making them near impossible to see from the ground, unlike the babes on the way into the village.
Ashes of Chaos (Legacy of the Nine Realms Book 2) Page 33