Page 71 of Of Empires and Dust

Before Ella could think, fingers were wrapped around her throat, squeezing as she thrashed, the woman’s wail scratchingat her mind. Ella’s feet went from under her, and she was falling, slipping from the riverbank. The icy water swallowed her whole, the woman’s fingers squeezing tighter, that horrific grin contorting cold flesh.

Ella screamed, air fleeing her lungs, water flooding in, the wolf howling inside her.

Memories flooded her mind, memories that were not her own. She was fleeing, her heart racing, sweat streaking her skin. Only fear held her as she sprinted through tall grass, moonlight overhead. Pain flared in her stomach. She looked down to see a barbed arrowhead protruding from just below her belly button, a little to the right. She staggered, her knee scraping the stones on the ground. Something slammed into her back and sent her sprawling, asnapsignalling the breaking of the arrow shaft.

A man stood over her, his eyes orange as a sunset, lips black as coals, a dark bow in his hand. A massive hawk alighted on his shoulders, one taloned foot either side of his head.

“It’s always more fun when you try to run.” The man drew another arrow from the quiver at his hip and nocked it. “Goodnight, Wolfchild. Sleep well.”

The man drew back the bowstring, and Ella reached outwards with her mind, panic and terror consuming her entirely. The memories flitted through her, seconds becoming minutes, becoming hours, days, weeks, years, centuries…

And then Ella was back in her own mind and being hauled from the water. She coughed and spluttered, choking on every breath, grasping at her throat. It felt as though a noose had been wrapped around her neck and she’d been dragged behind a horse.

As she shivered, soaked to the bone, gasping for air, Tamzin appeared over her, out of breath and soaked.

“Look at me,” she snapped, the tone in her voice sharp and panicked. She placed her hands gently atop Ella’s. “Breathe. Breathe. Are you all right?”

“I… I don’t…” Ella continued to pull in panicked breaths, her hands clutching her aching throat.

She turned her head to the side to see a pale, wet, headless body lying in the dirt, white blood spilling. The woman’s head sat a foot away, those cold eyes still open, mouth ajar. Ella snapped her stare back to Tamzin. “What the fuck was that? What happened? What… I saw her. I felt her fear…” Without warning, a feeling of skin-crawling dread and terror overwhelmed her and Ella burst into tears. She stared into Tamzin’s eyes. “She fragmented… She was trapped here for centuries, Tamzin.Centuries.Alone. All she saw was darkness. I felt her lose her mind. I felt every piece of her break, sliver by sliver. I… I…”

“Breathe, Ella. You’re safe.” Tamzin took one last deep breath, then dropped to the ground beside Ella.

Ella stared into the cold dead eyes of the woman’s decapitated head. “Is that what I’ll become? A wraith? I can’t become that. I can’t.”

“You won’t. I won’t let you.” Tamzin pulled herself to her feet and reached a hand to Ella. “But we need to move. There’s not a soul in this place that didn’t hear that. The Bjorna won’t be the only thing hunting us.”

Ella took Tamzin’s hand and rose. And as she followed the woman, she stopped and looked back at the body and severed head that lay in a pool of white blood by the riverbank.

“Ella.” Tamzin tugged at Ella’s sleeve.

“Her name was Laurel Hardin.” Ella’s jaw twitched involuntarily. “She was seventeen when she fragmented. She was terrified.”

“We need to go.”

“I’ll remember you,” Ella whispered. “I promise.”

Chapter 17

The Spark is Lit, the Fire Burns

7thDay of the Blood Moon

Aravell – Winter, Year 3081 After Doom

Aeson stoodwith his hands clasped behind his back, the bronze doors that guarded the central chamber of Mythníril behind him. He stared upwards at the white-stone branches and leaves that twisted and weaved across the chamber’s sweeping ceiling, dropping into the tree-like stone columns that framed the chamber’s many arched windows. A forest canopy frozen in time.

“I can see why this new queen is divisive,” Dann whispered to Calen, the both of them standing on Aeson’s left.

Calen stood with his arms folded, his eyes fixed on the stone map carved into the enormous table before them. Erik, Therin, and the others were at his side, fraying patience visible on all their faces – except for Vaeril. That elf rarely let his emotions slip.

“Quiet,” Therin snapped in a hushed voice.

“What? If I was this late, you’d hang me by my ankles.”

Aeson truly wished he had Dann’s ability to laugh in these situations, but there was too much at stake. Too many pieces moving at the same time, too many lives hanging in the balance. This moment was the culmination of centuries of patience and sacrifice. The decisions made in this chamber would shape the world moving forwards.

And yet, they’d been waiting for at least an hour, Queen Uthrían and King Galdra unwilling to allow them to proceed until this new queen of Vaelen arrived: Tessara. Aeson had heard her name mentioned more than once in his brief time in Aravell. He had not known Silmiryn particularly well and this niece of his even less so. But from what he’d heard, she’d made almost as many enemies as he had. Which perhaps meant she was doing something right.

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