Page 12 of Ash and Feather

I felt a strange pang in my stomach as I looked over it all, remembering the mortal realm I used to call home. “Valas told me he overheard Halar saying they’d found something of interest near the northern kingdoms, but he, too, was scant on the details with me.”

Even as I spoke of those human kingdoms, my eyes kept fixing onto the black space between them. The Hollowlands. OrBelethyn—that’s what the elves called it. A land forsaken by mortal kings and forgotten by the gods…but not truly empty, despite the dark hole representing it on the map.

There were elven dwellings dotted throughout the blackness…or at least, there had been when I was a child; I remembered my sister and father telling plenty of tales of the great warriors, deadly assassins, and respected leaders who had been shaped by the inhospitable features of that area. My sister used to say she was going to make a pilgrimage to it one day, perhaps journey deep into the darkness and carve out a greater reputation for herself within the abyss.

“Our own court has confirmed nothing,” Dravyn went on, “but there are a lot of…interestingstirrings in the area. Rumors of a growing darkness in these so-called Hollowlands, a movement that seems to be concentrating in a village near the edge of that desolate place.”

“A movement of elven-kind, you mean?” I pressed my palm to the yawning abyss on the map. “We called this area Belethyn. This map doesn’t show them, but there are more elven dwellings here than human ones.”

“You’re right,” he agreed, looking oddly uneasy about having this knowledge, as though he had firsthand experience he didn’t want to dwell on. “Anyway, the rumors have it that those dwellings have increased in size and number lately. The Velkyn are reaching outward, threatening the human establishments along the edges, while planning and preparing for who knows what else from the strongholds they’ve made within those shadowy lands—strongholds we suspect they’ve been reinforcing in recent years.”

I started to reply, but couldn’t right away; a lump had lodged in my throat. My heart felt as though it was being pulled apart,the two different sides of it both vying for control. Because here was yet another reminder: Dravyn and I might have ascended into something different, something more equal to one another, but the places and beings we’d risen from…they were still enemies.

After swallowing hard, I said, “Do you think they’re also trying to provoke the Marr through these threats and such?”

The Marr, who were tasked with watching over human-kind. The elves considered both of these groups their enemies.Us against them all, Andrel and all the other rebel leaders used to say, vacillating between which one they hated more on any given day.

“Likely so.” Dravyn’s tone was solemn. “Or, at the very least, trying to distract us, potentially leaving us vulnerable and stretched thin if they’re planning another assault on our divine realm. And perhaps they consider victory close at hand, too, a return to the power they once had—power they intend to wield from human thrones after they’ve won whatever battles necessary to assert their dominance… I can think of several reasons for their sudden activity, really.”

He turned away from the map and busied himself with studying the contents of a nearby shelf. I got the impression he was biting his tongue, not wanting to dwell on the bloody relations between our origin races any more than I did.

As though we could ignore it.

Even though he’d stopped speaking of it, the history of us hung over the space like a foul cloud, making it hard to breathe. I cast my eyes about for a window to open before remembering there wasn’t one.

Clearing my throat as best I could in the thickness, I pressed on. “You saidthe movement seems to be concentrating in a village near the edge. Where, exactly? Does this village have a name?” My fingertips went back to trailing the weatheredparchment, seeking but finding no dot or label to indicate any villages right along the Hollowlands’ edge.

Dravyn glanced back but didn’t reply. There was a distant, troubled look in his gaze—a sort of glazed-over sheen that gleamed brighter as the firelight caught it.

An uneasy shiver crept down my spine.

A sharp rap at the door interrupted us. Rieta stepped inside without waiting for an invitation, carrying a tray of food. Dravyn started to protest, but I was glad for the sight of her, even if I wasn’t hungry; she’d broken through the dark cloud that had been settling over the room.

With the arrival of food came a predictable scavenger as well, and another welcome interruption: Moth. Another of Dravyn’s creations—this one much smaller and considerably more dramatic.

As Rieta placed the tray on a small table in the corner, the fiery little griffin attempted to help himself to one of the flaky bread treats upon it.

He was thwarted in his efforts by Dravyn, who was familiar enough with Moth’s antics that he managed to catch the griffin by the thick ruff around his neck before so much as a claw scraped the fine metal tray.

Dravyn plopped him onto the ground, giving him a stern look. He then poured himself a cup of whatever steaming concoction was in the small kettle in the tray’s center—it smelled like oranges and cloves—and carried it toward the fireplace, ignoring Moth as he slid dejectedly under the table, a pitiful warbling sound rising in his throat.

I thanked Rieta as she left, then settled into the chair beside the corner table and absently nibbled on a bit of toast, thinking.

While Dravyn stared into the fire, I took a piece of fruit from the tray and slipped it to Moth, nearly losing the tip of my finger when the griffin’s sharp beak quickly closed over it.

I jerked my hand away, smacking it hard against the bottom of the table as I did. At the sound, Dravyn looked back, eyes dancing from me to the flaming tip of Moth’s tail, which was sticking out from under the tablecloth and thumping happily as he ate.

Dravyn’s disapproving frown twitched only slightly when I gave him a rueful smile.

“The Hollowlands,” I prompted, rubbing my stinging hand. “We were talking about the Hollowlands, and the trouble spilling over the edges of them.”

“Right.” He placed his cup on the shelf beside him, folded his arms across his broad chest and tilted his head toward the ceiling in thought. “According to the information Halar brought with him this morning, the unrest is centering around a certain figure that might be meaningful to you—one they’re calling theGodwalker.”

I stared at him, both desperate and terrified for him to elaborate.

“One who earned this nickname because she allegedly walked among the heavens and then returned to the mortal realm in one piece…” He lowered his gaze back to me as he added, “I’m sure you can draw the same conclusion I did about this figure.”

My breaths grew short, ragged. A dozen different, warring emotions flooded me, and my lower lip trembled from the effort of trying to keep steady within the waves of them.

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