Page 192 of Ashes to Ashes

“Worse,” The Morrigan says, amber flames dancing along the sword’s edge as her fury makes reality bend around us. “They have embedded fragments of the Stone of Fál into each blade. My people’s bones, corrupted with perverted treasure magic, forged into weapons designed to kill more of my children.”

Orion’s guardian instincts flare with protective fury so intense the air shimmers like heat waves, the child in his arms pressing closer for comfort. “That is... that is an abomination.”

“It is systematic,” Kieran adds, political mind grasping the full scope of the horror while frost spreads from his feet in violent, jagged patterns. “Not just genocide—desecration. They are turning victims into weapons against their own people.”

“Each sword requires bones from at least two gods to forge properly,” The Morrigan explains, and her voice holds the kind of fury that reshapes reality simply by existing. “Femur for the blade’s core, skull fragments for the hilt binding. Which means they have been killing my people for longer than any of us realized. Harvesting. Preparing.”

I study the blade with precision despite the revulsion clawing at my throat, my mind cataloging details even as my soul recoils. “The bone provides natural divine channeling, while the Stone fragments corrupt that power into destruction. It is... it is genius in its evil.”

“How many?” Orion demands, amber eyes blazing with guardian fury that makes the child in his arms look up at him with wide, trusting eyes.

“I have found twelve different blade signatures tonight,” The Morrigan replies grimly, and the number hits like a physical blow. “Twelve swords, which means at least twenty-four divine deaths to forge them. Children, elders, everyone they could capture and butcher.”

The child in Orion’s arms whimpers, divine power pulsing through her small frame as she senses the weapon’s presence.Around us, reality bends and warps in response to her unconscious terror, flowers blooming and withering in rapid cycles.

“And they are using these to prevent awakening,” Kieran realizes, shadows writhing with barely contained rage. “Kill gods before they can remember their divinity.”

“Exactly.” The Morrigan’s expression turns absolutely feral, ancient fury given form. “But tonight, they made a mistake. They tried to use one against someone who was already awakening.”

She gestures to where Siobhan’s body lies, divine silver light still flickering in her lifeless eyes like dying stars.

“The blade could not destroy her consciousness before death completed the awakening process. She remembered. And when gods remember...” The Morrigan’s smile turns terrible, ancient and predatory. “They do not go quietly.”

“Ash,” Orion says urgently, understanding hitting him like a physical blow that makes him stagger slightly. “The trial is in two days—if they have the Stone of Fál and these bone swords...”

“It is not a trial,” I finish, understanding crystallizing with horrible clarity that makes air stop moving in my lungs. “It is a coordinated execution. They will surround her with bone sword wielders while she attempts manifestation.”

The moment she tries to call the treasures, the moment she reaches for divine power, they’ll strike with weapons forged from the bones of her own people.

“Can the other treasures counter it?” Orion demands, amber eyes blazing with protective fury while the child clutches his shirt with desperate fingers.

I pull out every text I have on treasure interactions, my hands shake against the pages. The Crown of Destiny burns against my chest, its golden threads tracing across my skin in response to my urgency. “Theoretically, yes. The Four Treasures weredesigned to work in harmony. If three uncorrupted treasures were manifested simultaneously...”

“They could override the Stone’s corruption and neutralize the bone swords,” The Morrigan finishes. “But that requires...”

“Three treasure guardians revealing themselves publicly,” Kieran says grimly, his voice carrying the weight of inevitable sacrifice. “Exposing everything we have hidden for centuries.”

“And coordinating perfectly with someone who does not know we have the treasures,” Orion adds with growing desperation. “Someone who is currently imprisoned and being magically conditioned for compliance.”

The child in Orion’s arms stirs again, divine power pulsing through her small frame. Around us, the air itself begins to bend and warp in response to her awakening consciousness.

“We are running out of time,” I observe, looking at the traumatized but mortal child in Orion’s arms. “Not for divine madness—for systematic extermination. If they perfect these weapons, if they can kill fast enough to prevent any awakening...”

“No more gods,” The Morrigan confirms grimly, ancient sorrow bleeding through her fury. “Just scattered families picked off one by one until my people exist only in memory.”

Kieran’s shadows writhe with barely contained fury that cracks the ground beneath his feet. “So our options are: allow Ash to die tomorrow, or expose ourselves and hope we can coordinate a counter-manifestation while surrounded by god-killer weapons.”

“There is a third option,” The Morrigan says quietly, holding up the bone sword with deliberate menace that makes reality bend around the corrupted artifact. “Let the gods awaken. All of them. Let divine war consume the courts that dared to forge weapons from our children’s bones.”

The offer hangs in the air like poison made manifest. Justice through apocalypse. The systematic destruction of everything that hurt us.

But I think of Ash, trapped in Seelie imprisonment, facing the trial tomorrow with nothing but false hope and corrupted preparation.

I think of this child, divine power eating her alive from the inside out.

I think of two dozen scattered families who don’t know they’re walking into slaughter by bone blade.

“No,” I say quietly, the Crown of Destiny burning against my chest like a brand of certainty. “We save them all. The gods, the mortals, everyone.”

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