Page 84 of Born of Blood and Ash

Scanning the landscape, his hold lingered for a fewheartbeats before he stepped back. “Do you know what needs to be done?”

I swallowed, looking around. “Would you believe me if I liedand said yes?”

“Not when you just admitted you’d be lying.” The faint curveto his mouth warmed the harsh, cold beauty of his face.

I snorted as I tugged the back of my hood down. “Then youknow the answer. I’m really not sure.” Lips pursing, I turned back to theparched earth. Doubt began creeping in. “What if I was experiencing delusionsof grandeur?”

His rich, smoky chuckle danced in the rapidly darkening sky.“I don’t think that’s the case.”

I probably should’ve stopped and thought about this, but Ihadn’t been able to. Literally. Uneasy, my hands opened and closed as I walkedforward. Dead grass crunched under the thin soles of my slippers. I stopped bya patch of green and knelt, running my fingers over the fragile blades. Mybrows knitted as I noticed something I hadn’t before. I lifted my head.“There’s no smell.” I rose, inhaling deeply. “I don’t smell the stale lilacscent of the Rot at all.”

“I haven’t smelled it since you Ascended.” Crossing hisarms, he surveyed the ground. “The rest of the grass will come back without anyintervention.”

I knew that, but water would obviously aid it along. Messingwith one of my fangs with my tongue, I made my way to the edge of the riverbed.Should I instead attempt to bring back the grass? Regenerate new soil? No. Wewould have to spend the gods only knew how long traveling around theShadowlands for me to place my hands on the ground, and I couldn’t wait forthat.

We couldn’t wait.

Unnerved by the intrusive thought, I eyed the land. EitherAsh had mentioned this before or my intuition had told me that these tworiverbeds were fed by headwaters located in Mount Rhee, the place the draken called home. These waters didn’t connect to theBlack Bay or the Red River, which started in the Abyss. Should we have gone toMount Rhee instead? “There were animals here, right?”

“There were.”

Fresh, running water would bring them back. Eventually.“What kind?”

“Some were what you’d find in the mortal realm—deer,livestock, wolves, tree bears. All manner of birds.” He paused. “Serpents.”

My lip curled. “You didn’t need to tell me that.”

“Has it changed your mind?”

“No.”

“Didn’t think so,” he replied. “There were also animalsnever seen by most mortals. Beasts both large and small.”

Curiosity rose as I rubbed my damp palms on my cloak. “Likewhat?”

“Too many to name. But the Shadowlands was once home to the lyrue.”

“The lyrue?” I repeated,the name tugging at the edges of my memory, but I wasn’t sure I’d ever actuallyheard the term before.

“They were one of my father’s lesser-known creations. Somewould say they were a mistake,” he explained, and I glanced over at him. Hisfeatures were highlighted under the brightening starlight. “They wereoriginally mortal, and legend says that my father believed he could givemortals a dual life like he did for the draken. Butthis was different. For what he created were beings mortal by day that took theform of beasts similar to wolves but on two legs at night.”

My forehead creased. “I assume they were considered amistake because…?”

“Because they had no control over their forms once nightfell.”

Why would that be such a big deal when other creatures in Iliseeum weren’t exactly normal to look upon?

Ash cleared that up a moment later. “And because they wouldthen dine on the flesh of others, from cattle to gods and everything inbetween.”

My mouth dropped open. “Them eating peopleshould’ve been the first thing out of your mouth.”

A wry grin appeared as his head tilted. “You have a pointthere.”

“Yeah, just a small one,” I replied. “They ate people?” Ishook my head. “And they couldn’t be asked to, like, not do that?”

“You could ask them all you wanted, but the moment the sunset, they became nothing but insatiable hunger.” Flat, silver eyes met mine.“It didn’t matter who they were when the sun was high or who they loved. Nordid their horror upon discovering what they’d done in the darkest hours ofnight when they became the most brutal, primitive versions of the wolf. They’dfeast on their babes if left alone with them once the sun faded.”

My stomach hollowed. Eating people was bad enough, butchomping down on one’s own children? That was next level. “They’re gone now?”

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