Page 74 of An Honored Vow

Vrail’s jaw hung slack. “It’s showing the story.”

We watched as a group of warriors climbed into the gigantic nest and approached the shaking egg. In the distance a fire roared tall over the forest, disappearing as quickly as it came, as another group of Elverin lit pyres.

“Fire wielders,” I whispered, recognizing the move I had done dozens of times myself.

Gwyn pointed at the flapping beast. “They’re distracting it.”

The warriors inside the nest waited as the egg began to crack. The ink wafted through the air, moving in punctuated motions like hundreds of sketches were flashing in front of our eyes.

One of the figures brandished their sword. There was no gold ink to mark the blade for Faelin’s, but theniinokwenarhad a long Elder birch carved into her shoulder and a mane of tightly coiled hair.

The moment the beak burst through its shell, she ran her blade straight through the pulsing chest.

Its shrieks filled the library, dust filling the air as the shelves shook. In the background of the story, thewaateyshirroared and levied a shadowy death on the fire wielders below before growing larger, coming closer to protect its last egg.

My heartbeat pounded in my chest as if I were watching real warriors at work instead of a story of old being inked into the air. The second hatchling broke through with only three pecks against its shell.

It was dead before it even had the chance to squeak.

Gwyn’s brow furrowed. “They’re collecting it.” She nodded down at the warriors who hammered the egg shells into pieces small enough for them to carry. The same eggshells that now filled Damien’s pendants.

“They’re going to fashion weapons from it,” I said.

Vrail snapped her head to me. “How do you know that?”

“An easy assumption,” I said.

The warriors climbed down from the nest and left thewaateyshirto its sorrows. Only then did the ink fall back onto the page, slithering like snakes until it returned to its original form.

“Are you certain they were all fire wielders?” Gwyn tilted her head. “I couldn’t tell with the black ink, but some spouts looked different than others.”

I cocked my jaw to the side. “It looked like flame to me”

Vrail studied the book as if more dancing figurines would spring from the page, but her fingers were no longer dark. “There are references to Faelin’s daughter, Kieran’thara, having a power that could either kill or scare thewaateyshirak—the translation is ambiguous. Most believe it is a reference to her fire wielding gift but perhaps not.”

I nodded at the shelves. “We should find every reference to her gifts we have. Perhaps your new magic can show us more than what’s on the page.”

“I don’t even know what that was.” Vrail stared at her own hand. “I’ve never heard of such gifts.”

I shrugged. “Perhaps there weren’t any. Gwyn can write spells from runes. That is not a gift previously held by the Fae.”

Vrail nodded. “Spell weaver.”

“Ink wielder,” Gwyn whispered back at her in wonder.

Vrail’s eyes went wide and she tried the words for herself.

I nodded at the book. “Is there anything more to the story?”

Vrail shook her head. “Only that theshirakfaded shortly after Faelin created the shadow sun. Though the definition ofshortlyis relative. Now we might consider that to be instantaneous, but one must remember that these books were scribed by Elves and Fae. Their concept of short is much different than ours—”

I raised my hand, cutting off Vrail before she could start a full ramble. “Shadow sun?”

Vrail pointed to the ceiling of the library as if we could see the two suns that hung in the skies.

I rubbed my brow. “I know there are two suns, Vrail. But do the records call it ashadowsun?”

Gwyn squinted like there was true sunlight in her eyes and shrugged. “I’ve only ever called it the second sun.”

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