Page 204 of Ash and Feather

I followed that pull.

The world no longer felt as if it was tilting sideways.

She watched me approach through green eyes that were familiar, yet altogether something new. Something brighter.

But as I made my way up onto the rocky plateau, the last of the silvery light left her, and all the color seemed to drain from her body in the next instant.

I froze.

She blinked. Bowed her head.

Then she rose with a mighty flap of her wings, disappearing into the bright sky, leaving behind nothing except a pile of ash and feathers.

Chapter 46

Karys

A bird was singing somewhere nearby.

I was dreaming of a morning long ago. Back when I was a child. Long before I knew much of wars or blood or betrayal and surviving, or of rising above these things. I’d been very sick. My fever made me delirious, and for five days I didn’t wake.

I didn’t remember much about those days, aside from the sound of a sparrow singing outside my window—and a voice.

Wake up, Karys. Please wake up.

My sister’s voice, on the verge of tears.

She told me later that it was the most frightened she’d ever been. She stayed by my bedside for all five days, and she ended up needing a doctor herself because she refused to eat or drink if I couldn’t do either of those things.

She would have followed me to the grave if I hadn’t woken up, I think.

But I’d heard her voice, and somehow, I’d decided I was going to answer it. That I was going to keep fighting. Rise into something new. Something better.

Wake up, Karys.

It was not only my sister speaking to me this time. It was Dravyn. Mairu. Valas.

So many were calling out to me.

Waiting on me.

So I again made the decision to rise.

To wake.

I was not in my room when I did. There were no birds singing. No doctors, no family, no allies. There was only me, a lush shoreline of grass, and a shallow stream.

I strode toward that stream and peered into the water.

I was still myself, only brighter. Cleaner. My dirty, battle-worn clothes were gone, replaced by robes of silver and white. My dark hair fell in loose, wild waves, tamed only by a silver circlet resting on my head—one with diamonds that matched the ring Dravyn had given me, which was still securely fixed on my finger.

The scars on my face and neck were very faint, impressions that only revealed themselves when I turned in precisely the right way, looking for them.

I finally lifted my gaze away from my reflection.

Across from the stream, something was resting in the grass.

Antaeum.

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