Her pulse thudded dully in her ears. Marquis dictated a monstrous kingdom, the people of the Isles thriving off violence. Swimming faster, Emory pushed down her anger—she would deal with Marquis after.
Fighting against the pull of the ocean, Emory’s ability protected her. Her gaze scrounged the underwater world, nothing but shadowed reefs for miles, the flicker of movement sending shivers up her spine. She swam faster as the feeling she was being watched overwhelmed her. Kicking her feet faster, she dove, and it was the flash of gold that froze her. There on the reef, he hung suspended, the manacles flashing against the light.
“BROKK!”
Her screams did nothing as the knife flashed from behind him, the assailant hidden in the inky cover of the sea, as the weapon dove toward his throat.
“NO!” she screamed, but that’s when she felt her necklace slam against her chest.
She gasped when heat blazed through her. Her necklace slammed against her skin again, and she tore at her own throat as the gem ripped through flesh, blood washing into the seawater. The knife paused right above Brokk’s flesh as her back bowed, her screams climbing as the pain ravaged her. She watched in horror as the chain dropped, complete and utter agony demanding her compliance.
The gem dissolved, and she gasped—unharnessed raw magic shuddered through her. Bubbled flesh rose, as she felt the magic expand into her, no longer just harnessing it within her necklace. No longer borrowing it or keeping it safe. It was her.
Looking down at her arms, all Emory could see was her blackened veins grow and bulge: Watching in horror as the dark magic ravaged her body, her vision dipped, and all she could process was the screams echoing. Her own, or was it Adair’s? No, he is dead. You killed him. Convulsing, her eyes rolled into the back of her head, and the last thing she saw was the knife drop, sinking to the bottom of the ocean, being swallowed whole.
Chapter Thirty-One
Azarius
The blood poured from his nose, gushing through his fingers as he tried to stem it. Whipping around, Azarius faltered in his sprint. Alby ran behind him, his sword bloodied, his black eye swollen, his left eye filled with fear. Their group, which started out as one hundred refugees from Pentharrow, was now down to thirty. Thirty. A wretched noise broke through his lips, and he couldn’t think. He pushed down his aching heart as he roared, “MOVE!”
A flicker of a shadow was the only warning they gave them. Shooting past Alby, he rolled as the monster dove at his brother. His blade arced up, slicing the underbelly of decaying flesh, black blood washing over him, and all he could smell was death. Sputtering, he found his feet and stood. The cover of night had done nothing. Running had done nothing. Yellow eyes found his, as it snapped its maws, rotting teeth breaking from the force.
“Come get me then.” Azarius smiled, crazed.
It roared, charging, as he shot forward. He could hear the cries, sending a silent plea that Alby was protecting them. That they would make it out of this. The monster lunged, and his fist connected with grey flesh. Its head snapped back from the force, and its claws viciously swiped at his belly. Lunging back, he laughed, his blades edge slicing clean through the creature’s arm. It landed with a sickening thud. Snarling, it narrowed its eyes when the black blood sprayed. Gods above, the smell.
The wind picked up as Azarius said, “You cannot have us.”
The trees around them bowed, branches cracking, and he couldn’t hold on. He didn’t want to hold on. The fissures cracked as he let go, and the gale picked up the howling creature.
“Azarius, NO!” Alby was there pushing at his chest.
He cackled. “They are not going to pick us off one by one, Alb.” They ducked as the funnel cloud ate up the ground, the trees in its path snapping.
“Azarius, STOP!”
He panted as he squinted down at the wreckage from the winds picking up. It was intoxicating, and Azarius grinned.
Then a fist slammed into his jaw.
Dots filled his vision, blood filling his mouth. He looked at Alby. “What was that for?”
“You can’t lose it now. What about using no abilities, so they can’t pinpoint us easier? What about trying to stay hidden?”
Laughing, he swept his arms out wide. “Like that did us any good. Look at us. I used my abilities, and if they come, then so be it.”
“Is that what Lana would have wanted?”
He froze. Just her name ripped open his body, leaving him stunned. He looked back at Pentharrow where nothing waited for them except for the ashes of their lives. Azarius had given up his life protecting that town, and now, all of it was gone. Surrounded by a world that had fallen into destruction, he had taken his personal punishment for his people. But now, they had liberated themselves and, in the same breath, shackled themselves to this war in one motion.
Stomping up to his brother, he grabbed fistfuls of his shirt, spitting in his face, “You have no right to talk to me about her.”
Trembling, Azarius tensed, wanting to tear apart the world inch by inch. Shoving Alby back, he looked to the surviving members of their so called rebellion. Pacing back and forth, he pointed his sword at them.
“Do any of you actually think that we have a chance? If we are going to be hunted, then why not use everything we have now?” Their faces blanched at his words, at his tone. The men and women around him deflated, anxious murmurs spreading through them.
“No. Stop. I know you’re hurting. I know that your entire world has just been ripped away from you. That your life at this point, in your eyes, is nothing without her. But look at me!”
The tears burned in Azarius’s eyes as he looked to his twin, at the cold rage he found flashing in Alby’s eyes as he spoke. “You do not have the right to strip the hope from these people. From me. Even from yourself. The Rebellion is alive if we are. Our mission is to make it to Memphis and Nyx. Make it to the raiders, and we have a chance. I’m begging you not to fall into madness. I need you. We need you.”
Howls in the distance made him flinch as tears streaked his cheeks.
“Decide what man you want to be, brother.”
Heaving, the world tilted, but he felt a pressure on his arm. Blearily looking, he found Alby grimly smiling at him, his hand around his forearm, squeezing.
“I’m sorry I punched you. But you are not alone in this. Never forget that. If you can start to forgive me for my decisions in leaving Pentharrow and you all those years ago, I will try to forgive you for almost killing us with this stunt.”
The laugh choked out of him, as the howls escalated.
Alby furrowed his brows. “We need to run now.”
Azarius forced his legs to comply. It was one foot in front of the other. Sheathing his blade, he numbly looked to his brother. “Okay. Okay I will try.”
Nodding, Alby yelled to the rest. “Keep together and keep moving!”
They set off, leaving behind the wreckage. Gritting his teeth together, each jarring movement was a stab of pain. Of absence. Would she have wanted him to keep going without her? Leaving her to face the eternal nightmare alone? Azarius’s chest ripped open, his emotions festering, but he kept going.
Hours had passed as the silent of the deep night fell over them all. The howls had stopped for the time being, and he didn’t know if that was a good thing or a warning. Sweat poured down his body, his legs feeling like glass about to shatter at any moment. Every step, every ragged breath, brought them closer to thinning treelines, and he fell to the back of the group. Every pause, he looked back, panting and discreetly slashing a bloody mark into the bark. A trail, just in case the right person may be looking for them. Or this rebellion.
“AZARIUS!” Ice shot through his body as he charged forward to his brother.
The group had stopped as he came up beside him. “What?”
Alby was ashen, as he whispered, “Look.”
Stepping forward, the treeline finally faded, blending into an expanse of marshland for miles. His breath misted in front of
him as he took in quick gulps. He felt as though the thickening fog clung to the land. Then he saw the figure his brother had spotted. The person was tall, its tattered hood hiding their face. Alby came up beside him.
“Azar, you know where we are, right?” It was the childhood nickname that sent the fear shooting up his spine as Alby trembled beside him.
“The Forgotten Bogs.” The words came out in a hush as the figure slowly lifted its arm, pointing a finger straight at him.
“Gods above.” Alby gasped, taking a step back.
The myths that clung to this land were ones that Azarius didn’t take lightly. Staring at the figure, the wind picked up, the cool edge of autumn clinging to it, but neither of them moved. It was once again the screams that brought him slamming back down into their present situation. The back of the group scattered as, whipping around, he saw the face of Calla, the town’s local stained-glass artist, before she was dragged back into the forest, arms flailing, her screaming cutting off into a sickening silence.
The ground beneath him shook as two of the monsters from the Oileans’ army landed where she was, grey skin sagging; they snapped their teeth, thick saliva dripping from their maws. Behind them, three more yellow stares flickered in the night, growls circling them. Looking at Alby, time seemed to stop, and he saw the dabarne there.
The two monsters grabbed victims, and he balked, screaming, “ALBY!” His brother found him as his ability cracked through his body, funnel clouds landing every which direction, slicing through rebels and monsters: Bending trees, breaking and snapping them.
He lost himself in the chaos, not knowing where the man started, and the monster began.
“Alby, run!” The scream choked out of Azarius as his brother grabbed two people scrambling toward him, and they all disappeared into the fog.
Two creatures locked their gazes on him, snarling, charging. Scrambling back, a funnel cloud touched down, catching the two dabarnes and sent them screeching toward the sky. Tripping, he ran, the wind picking up, the gale ripping trees from the forest, and he couldn’t hold on anymore. Running full tilt, the fog ate up his surroundings. Tripping in pools, water soaked through his boots, freezing him.
“Alby! Alby?” Shivering, he pulled his jacket tighter, his sack half-ripped but still full enough with supplies. Panic clutched every orifice of his body as the screams echoed further behind him, and he ran, falling and getting up repeatedly. Mud slicked his pants as he heard a gentle footfall right in front of him. Shaking, he whispered, “Alby?”
A thick dripping sounded as a strangled voice whispered back, “Azarius Walsh. You have come.” It was the same hooded figure he’d seen earlier, ice blue eyes fixated on his own. Her robes were tattered, her pale skin drawn, silver hair flowing down past her shoulders.
His mouth ran dry. “How do you know me?”
A small smile tugged at her lips. “I have been waiting for this moment for a long time.”
“These lands are cursed. I’m just trying to pass through with what’s left of our party. And my brother.”
She stepped forward, tilting her head. “But your path is so much more than that. I have seen it.” She took a step closer. “Cursed lands, gifted lands. Either way, it is a land that will save your life in this moment, if you will it.”
“Who are you?”
“My name is Hesen. I was once part of a war, of a city lost many years ago. Now, I have lived in these lands, watching the fates intersect and collide. Waiting for this day.” Her eyes glowed in the night, as the hairs on his arms rose.
“Why?”
She stepped forward, cupping his cheek. “Because all is not lost. Do you wish to see? To venture in the Bog?”
“I can’t go back. The Rebellion has to live.” It was a statement or maybe a question to himself. She smiled, pointed teeth glistening.
“Azarius? Is that you?” Alby’s voice rang out to the left, desperation clinging to every syllable. The woman snapped her head at his voice, and he stepped in front of her. “It’s my brother.”
Turning, Azarius headed toward his voice. “Alby? Are you okay? Where are you?” There was a shift in the fog, and he was there, colliding with him. He crushed his twin against his chest, relief flooding through him. “Gods above. You’re okay. Alby? Alby everything is okay.”
Alby’s sobs raked against his body, as he held his brother, looking over his flaming hair to the two figures watching nearby. “Ren. Iri.” The couple nodded at him; their pale faces tight with grief. Azarius knew their son had been traveling with them and was one of the many casualties of this living nightmare.
“Come with me.” Hesen’s voice was sharp, as Azarius focused back on her. She huskily addressed them all, “As you said, Black Dawn Rebellion cannot break. Come with me, and I will help you.”
Alby grabbed his arm. “Who is that?”
His gut churned. “I think she is our only chance right now, Alb.” With raised eyebrows, he murmured, “Come on.”
He followed the mysterious woman: Alby, Ren, and Iri trailing tentatively behind.
The fog grew thicker, and he could swear whispers followed him on the wind, Lana’s voice hidden amongst every sigh. Further and further, they walked into the Bog. Every crack of twig making him jump.
“And how do we know those monsters aren’t hunting us in here?” Azarius asked.
Hesen looked over her shoulder. “The Oileans’ power only stretches so far within our lands. My powers protect these borders and the creatures who are here.” Azarius frowned, looking at his twin who shrugged. Stopping, Hesen motioned to him. “Will you look into the pools? To see your fate?”
Scoffing, Azarius said, “Our future? And if it only ends in our death?”
She shook her head. “It does not, Azarius Walsh. Now come and see.”
Stepping forward, the fog curled around him, and the others faded. In front of Hesen, a small clear pool was nestled in the ground, its silver waters churning as if smoke was captured beneath the surface. Crouching down, he felt as if he was in a trance, and all he could think about was Lana. He had to know if she was alive.
The coolness of the wind stirred as Hesen whispered to his back, “Yes, now look closer.”
Bending down, his nose was an inch away from the surface as the water spun. Shadows started forming, coming into focus as he exhaled hard. Tears ran down his face, his nails digging into the mud as the image became clear, playing out before his eyes. Nestled in the Forgotten Bogs, it was his own screams that pierced the night as he watched.
And watched.
Chapter Thirty-Two
The Oilean
There was pain. Darkness. And hope dwindled down into nothing as the Oilean circled around the staked windwalker, her breaths coming in quick, strained wheezes. Her arms were bound tightly to either side, her ankles as well. She would not hold on for much longer. Their green, jagged gems pulsed on the floor, the energy humming and creating while also destroying. Lana’s head wobbled and dropped, the crescent moon they had carved on her forehead glowed in the night-connecting to them, her blood seeping and oozing, thick and black onto the floor.
Blood was always the key; it was such a tangible and alive source. It was the key to magic, to abilities, to holding, to creating, and sustaining. The rocks flared as the windwalker’s blood ran toward them, touching their edges. Blinding light and a resounding crack flared deep in the forest where the Oilean had taken her. They liked it here; it wasn’t like a regular forest. It hid creatures like them in its inky cover of a forever night. Deep purple brush crumpled around them, and the Oilean fell quiet and waited.
“How much longer do we have to wait?” Declan snapped impatiently.
“Soon, our king.” The Oilean cooed, still not used to seeing their master in his new body of the former boy-king.
In the middle of the rock circle, instead of the forest floor, the surface rippled and changed. Sleek, crystalized frost swirled like a pane of glass. Smooth and impenetrable like a polished
stone, its opaque surface shone up at their marred faces. The Oilean dared not breathe as they waited. Seconds passed and a hush fell over the forest. Lana’s blood ran more freely, her body jerking wildly. Then the surface shattered in an explosion, shards lodging themselves in the black tree trunks in proximity. The rocks seemed to hum, the energy and heat pouring from them as the magic built.
The Oilean cackled as the creature rose in smoky tendrils and dangerous strength. The laughter floated through the crevices of the forest, and they knew they had succeeded in connecting the channel to their world, to allow the most dangerous and ruthless army access through.
Dark body after dark body, they appeared, opening their eyes, burning silver in the night. More tendrils of darkness flew through the portal, forming cloaked creatures behind Declan. and
Their army formed before the Oileans’ eyes.
And for the first time in their forsaken life, they had broken through; the hunger evident in each of their features cloaked in darkness, in every prying eye.
The reign of humans and pure magic was ending.
They would take this world, together, a broken court long reunited. It was their time. Their war would rewrite history and ensure one bathed in blood. The time for dreamers was over.
A low chuckle resonated behind them as they sank low to their knees, and their king hissed in pleasure. Looking around at his new army, he whispered, “Find them. And destroy them all. But keep the girl for me.”
Hisses and whispers broke out around them all as the Oilean watched their king bend his hands, a crown of blackened thorns and roses emerging from the smoke. Lifting it, he placed it on his brow.
“The new age of this world has begun. I am depending on you not to fail this time.”
The sisters bowed lower, their anger and bloodlust sparking. They would find the warriors. The queen. And the shifter. They would not fail their king. Not this time.
Queen to Ashes (Black Dawn Series Book 2) Page 28