Page 78 of Scourged

Sure enough, there was that burlap bag, still bulging and heavy. But her hands didn’t reach for the gold.

She instead reached for the small, silver leather book beside it, somehow free of dust and dirt and anything else that should’ve accumulated there as it lay forgotten beneath her bed.

Mariah sat back, crossing her legs, as she turned over the book, reading the cover.

Ginnelevé.Her mother’s name. The name of every woman in their line, dating back to Zadione’s first priestess during the First War.

Mariah’sname. The last Ginnelevé priestess.

She almost snorted. Far more than priestess, in truth, but she supposed that was just a matter of semantics.

Her fingers fanned the pages, the centuries—millennia—worth of entries breezing past her eyes. The book was so small, but it seemed to grow in her hands as the pages buzzed past. As if the magic that preserved it also hid its true depth of knowledge. Despite all those entries, there were still empty pages at the back.

Right after the final entry. The letter written not on the pages of the journal, but on a single sheet of her paper. Her mother’s elegant script stared up at her as Mariah brushed the creamy page.

Fear burst through her, unannounced. Ever since things with the Royals started to decline, Mariah had sworn to keep her family out of her mess. When she’d blinded Lord Campion—who must have passed, replaced by his son in Khento—and killed Lord Beauchamp, she’d known she couldn’t return to them. Not until her position was more secure and a trip would be safe.

Now, though … Lord Donnet had been there, in Khento, with the rest of them. And Donnetknew. He knew all about her past, and her family, and where they lived in their small, perfect house at the edge of town.

If the lords wanted to strike at her, all they’d have to do was get to her family.

She forced a deep breath—in through her nose, out through her mouth. Like her father had taught her.

Her father. Wex would keep his family safe. Mariah had no doubt that if he had even the slightest feeling of something amiss, he would take Lisabel and Ellan and get out of town. They could ride, hunt, and fight; there were many small towns they could escape to and lie low in until the danger passed.

She’d learned all that she knew from her family. There was nothing she could do at present for them; going after them now would most definitely raise suspicion. She had to trust they could manage for themselves, at least for a little while longer.

Mariah snapped the book closed, staring at the cover. She felt that drop of magic woven into its core, ancient and wild and so like her silver light. Her fingers again brushed the leather.

“If—when—you ever feel lost, truly lost, when you need a reminder of who you are and what you are capable of … that book will tell you everything you need to know.”

Her mother’s words, shared so long ago beside a roaring fire, blazed through her mind. The hair on her arms stood on end.

Could her mother have known what awaited her? Perhaps she knew her trip to Verith would lead to a greater destiny, but everything that had happened after …

Mariah swallowed. No. Her mother hadn’t known what evil would be committed against her daughter. Perhaps she knew Mariah would feel lost, but there’s no way she could’ve known just how truly adrift her daughter would be.

“If you have help to offer me,” Mariah whispered to the silver journal, “I’ll take it now.”

She fanned the pages again, stopping on a page near the beginning.

And began to read.

They are coming. They move in the night under the cover of their wicked shadows. They mask the light of the moons, hiding our goddess from sight. Abominations, monsters, evil crafted from the darkest corners of the heavens. It is not known if the reykr are born soulless or if they are turned that way.

It does not matter. No light has ever burned out their darkness. The most we can hope is that they pass us over, that they continue on with whatever unholy task their fallen god charges them with?—

Mariah’s chest heaved as she slammed the book shut, tears choking her throat as her heart pounded in her ears and beat against her chest. She threw the journal across the floor, a sob shuddering out of her as she scrambled away from it.

Shadows … abominations … monsters … evil … soulless.

Reykr.

She pressed her hands against her ears, trying to stop the pounding.

She’dfeltthat darkness. During the bond. She’d chased it out with her light, leaving only the soul behind.

Thereykrsoul behind.

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