Page 71 of Of Blooming Embers
Among the chaos, a stillness tunneled into my bones because I knew something in my very marrow that our enemies didn’t.
No matter what firestorm raged around us, our roots were safely buried beneath the mire, biding their time before blooming once again.
28
SHOW ME YOUR TEETH
GAVREL
Dusk set in, the full moon already bright and shining over the fighting and gore around us.
A shower of arrows poured into the mass of bodies. Draumrs and rebels in the constant motion of combat, battling one another while the city croaked and shuddered beneath our very feet.
Citizens jumped and swung from the treetop homes and stairwells, sturdy ropes and daggers clutched in their hands as they attacked from above.
“Commander!” Rhaegar bellowed from the other side of the square. Several Draumrs looked my way, shock and uncertainty slamming over their visages. I recognized one or two, but ignored them as Seryn and I charged toward him.
Neoma shot a final arrow before setting her bow across her chest and then grabbing a nearby rope. Before she could swing from the platform, a pair of Akridais appeared, one yanking her by the hair and the other’s oleaginous aura slipping around the enforcer’s form. Icouldn’t reach her, but russet strands caught my attention at the base of the tree.
“Marek! Neoma!” I bellowed, and his eyes snapped up, a look of rage lining his features. He jabbed his quarterstaff into a guard’s face and charged up the stairwell, his halo flaming furiously.
At the sound of my voice, Seryn stumbled. “Keep going! Marek’s got her!” I shouted. A grim expression settled across her face as she stabbed her dagger into an opponent’s thigh.
Already deep in battle, we both knew it was futile to turn back. We wouldn’t make it to her grandmother before her cousin. As we fought our way through the square, blocking blows and metal clashing against metal, I caught glimpses of Neoma as she struggled against the enforcers.
With a roar, Marek clenched his fists, muscles straining. A slithering shadow made of sooty flames burst from him. The dark inferno rolled up the stairs like a nightmare and engulfed the two Akridais. At once, they released Neoma, clutching the sides of their heads and screaming in terror.
As Marek’s feet met the deck, his face was a mask of wrath. A savage grin sliced across his jaw as he watched his enemies collapse to their knees. I swore his pupils overtook the whites of his eyes as the Akridais clawed at their cheeks, eyes unseeing and full of horror. Whatever illusion he’d implanted was tearing their minds apart from the inside.
I deflected a blow and spun, thrusting my sword into another belly.
Tentatively, Neoma placed her hand on her grandson’s shoulder, and he winced. He crushed his eyes closed and shook his head as if clearing away pollution. His ember melted into him while Neoma swung over the length of the square, landing safely on another tree deck.
Marek prowled near the trembling enforcers, who whimpered feebly. His eyes narrowed before he kicked one off the edge of the platform and whipped his staff into the other. Both fell limply into thewater below. With his face set in a dour expression, Marek swung over to where Neoma had landed, and they joined us below.
“Holy tits, Yaya,” Breena praised the older woman. “You’ve still got that battle fever in you.”
Neoma laughed, charging ahead. Breena tilted her head toward Marek, eyeing him curiously. The male pushed past her, his jaw set in stone.
At last, we reached the bridge to Hallowed End, and I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. Its creaking span vanished into the darkness, too long even for the moon’s grasping tendrils to fully reveal.
We crossed in silence, the weight of something unseen nipping at our heels, pressing down—thick as the smoky air and the groan of timber beneath our feet. Fog curled along the ropes and planks like pale serpents. Beneath us, the swamp pulsed, its black water shifting with sluggish menace.
As the decagon-shaped platform came into view, my heart slammed against my ribs. A droning cacophony bubbled up from the murk, silencing the swamp critters. We froze, staring into the water.
Breena snarled as swollen, ashen bog bodies broke through the surface, bulging eyes and vacuous sockets alike fixating on our group.
We snapped into action, stabbing and kicking away the undead. Again and again, Seryn’s dagger lodged into the undead’s soft bits, instantly returning to her hand. The others swung their weapons and let their embered light slash a path over the bridge.
Sweat coated my brow, and as we rushed onto the platform, cracking fingers and chomping jaws lunged at us. I stabbed one of the beast’s temples. Its one bulging eye rolled back in its head before it slipped into its watery grave.
The Budding Moon hovered above, watchful and steady, its beams spilling across the planks like a quiet blessing—as if Selene herself approved, marking our destination.
Seryn rushed forward, activating her ring and ember simultaneously. She closed her eyes, lashes fluttering, imagining the Stygian Murk as we’d discussed.
A swirling, amber vortex materialized as both Seryn’s and the moon’s light fed the embered gateway, its sparkling edges widening until the center of the misty haze beckoned us.
“Go! I’m not sure how long I can hold it!” Seryn cried.
