Page 95 of Drawn in Blood
“Some people call them Will-o’-the-Wisps,” she continued. “They’re traces of ancient magic—a magic that hasn’t thrived in this world in thousands of years.”
Ember felt her breath catch in her chest as she stared at the hovering light floating by the door.
“You can control it—harness it.”
“I can’t,” Ember muttered. “You have me confused with someone else.”
“You wouldn’t have gotten through that locked door if you couldn’t,” the woman replied. “Controlling it takes practice, but that just comes with time.”
Ember stared at her hand, flexing it a few times.
“Do you have a name?” Ember asked, trying to keep the woman talking. Something wouldn’t let her walk away.
“I’ve had many names,” she replied, “many stories told about me around campfires under the stars, but you can call me Aesira.”
“Well, Aesira,” Ember replied, “it’s nice to meet you. My name is?—"
“Ember Lothbrok,” Aesira replied. “I know. I’ve known your name for almost as long as I’ve known mine.”
Ember should’ve been surprised, should’ve turned around and ran out the door, but she didn’t. She stood there, hand still on the door as she peered inside at the strange woman. There was something familiar about her, about the way she spoke, the cadence of her voice, something both comforting and unsettling.
“Everyone seems to know my name,” Ember sighed. It was something she still wasn’t quite used to.
“There’s a reason for that,” Aesira replied, “a reason you’re different.”
“Yes, yes,” Ember replied, waving her hand, “the prophecy, the castle, the dark king for a grandfather. I know about it all.”
“Knowing and understanding are two vastly different things,” Aesira laughed.
“How long have you been down here?” Ember asked, barely above a whisper, ignoring the not-answers the strange woman kept giving her.
“Long enough that I stopped counting,” the woman replied.
Ember peeked through the opening carved into the door. The cell was dark, the floor, ceiling, and walls all made of stone. The woman was in the far-left corner, curled into herself, long hair flowing wild past her shoulders. The only light in the cell was the moonlight dancing across the onyx stone, and even that barely lit a sliver of the floor.
“And you were the one calling me? Singing to me?” Ember asked.
“I was,” Aesira replied. “There are spells around my cell, around the dungeon that keeps my song out. Seems to be bothersome to the guards, but I knew it would find you eventually.”
“Why did you bring me here,” Ember asked, brow furrowed.
“My magical core has been severely depleted,” Aesira said. “I can’t control the wisps without it, can’t do anything without it, and someone must know they’re here. Someone has to save them.”
Ember scrunched her brow. “Who?”
Before Aesira could reply, Ember heard a sniffle, and then a cry, and then a voice in the dark further down the hall.
“Ember?”
Ember’s heart stopped as the voice whispered her name. She ran down the hall, blinking her eyes to force them to adjust to the darkness. She stopped in front of a cell door, gripping the rungs as she peered inside. Little fingers wrapped around hers, dirty and cold.
Ember’s bottom lip trembled, her chest shaking as she gripped the tiny hand. “Maeve?”
Chapter 31
A Lamb for Slaughter
“Maeve?” Ember whispered hoarsely again, tears streaming down her face. The light from the wisp lit Maeve's blue eyes, rimmed red and puffy, and Ember felt her heart leap into her throat.
