Page 140 of Grave Situation

“What’s wrong?” Jaimin demands. Coryn’s on his feet already, looking toward the door.

I shake my head. Telling them won’t help anything. “He’s just surprised.”“Stop. I’m fine. We know what to watch out for now.”

His fury doesn’t dim, but the screams stop. Coryn retakes his seat, and though Jaimin studies me for a moment longer, I can see when he decides to take my words at face value.

“Is it some kind of poison?” he muses. “Or magic? A link from their creator to the newly dead? But you said the slain would immediately rise. If it’s the necromancer raising them, wouldn’t it take time and effort, the same as when they first raise their zombies?”

“The undead are highly contagious,” Peiris explains. “There is a theory that merely living in close proximity to them for a prolonged time could cause infection. If they break the skin of the living, it is certain to transfer. There are several theories as to why the necromancer must be alive, but I was unable to find a definitive answer.”

Jaimin’s face becomes intent. “A virus of some kind? Viruses can be cured—or run their course. What happens if someone is scratched or bitten but the zombie doesn’t kill them? Was anyone ever successfully cured? Or did they rise after dying for other reasons, even years later?”

“And does the zombie that scratched them have to still be al—around, when the person does die?” Coryn adds. “What if a zombie had scratched someone today, then a mage or dragon killed the zombie before it could kill any of us? Would the person who got scratched still become a zombie when they die?”

“Before we get too far into the details,” I interrupt, “can we confirm that nobody got scratched or bitten today? Or any othertime we’ve been attacked? I didn’t.” My heart is beating so fast, I feel dizzy. I can’t lose anyone else—I just can’t.

“Not me,” Coryn declares, and Jaimin shakes his head.

“Me either.”

“Nor I,” Peiris adds.

“My back got scratched,” Arimen volunteers, and my heart stops beating.No. “But it was when you shoved me along the wall. Those stones arerough.”

I suck in a harsh breath. Until this moment, I hadn’t realized how fond I’ve gotten of him.

Jaimin has a hand pressed to his throat. “Next time,” he says faintly, “please start with that information. I’ll heal you before bed.”

“Okay,” I say, trying to regain my composure. “Okay. I want to talk more about the zombies later, but first, tell us how you knew to come here—and where we’re supposed to go next.”

“The prophecies said to come to here,” they explain, then recite from memory, “They will travel to the place that died and come upon the companions of the wellspring. With the companions will they find the godsborn and journey to the birthplace.”

I fucking hate prophecies. “How… concise.”

Jaimin coughs. “?The place that died’ is here, and our presence as ‘companions of the wellspring’ is proof of that. Though, I’ll be interested in how you reasoned it out. I’m guessing ‘the birthplace’ is where we’re going next?”

“After we find the godsborn,” Peiris reminds us.

“Godsborn,” I mutter. “Why does that sound familiar?” I feel like I’ve heard it recently. Maybe?—

“A real godsborn?” Arimen breathes, his face alight with excitement. “Did the prophecy say who? This is so exciting!”

I exchange a glance with Jaimin. It’s becoming rapidly apparent that Arimen is here to be our religious interpreter.

“Remind me, what’s a godsborn?” I can live with sounding ignorant if I have to; there’s no time to waste trying to finesse the information I need.

Arimen heaves a huge sigh. “Talon! We were talking about this just the other week, remember?”

“We… were?” He talks a lot, but I don’t usually zone out when he’s talking tome. Well, not often, anyway.

“Yes! When we stayed at the cottage and found the storybook? I read you the tale of Dreyda!”

Like a runaway carriage, the memory hits. Not just of that night—when, to be fair, I had a lot more on my mind than Arimen’s stories—but also of my nanny telling us the same stories when I was a child. “Godsborn?” I repeat, shocked. “You mean… gods born into mortal bodies? I thought that was a fairy tale!”

“So did I,” Jaimin murmurs, but Peiris shakes their head.

“They are acknowledged to exist,” they explain. “We’ve had several documented incarnations of our gods.”

“I thought they were just stories too,” Arimen confesses, “but at the Sanctuary they taught us that they’re real.” His grin is wide. “It makes the stories so much better.”

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