Page 70 of A War of Embers

“Isn’t this getting boring?” I ask in a dull voice. “Do you two have a thing about harassing females that should be made aware to the entire estate?”

The guard, someone new I haven’t seen before, flushes a deep red, unable to hide his embarrassment. “Just following orders–”

My eyes slice to Nox. “Your orders, right? Are you angling for a fight, immortal?” One thing I’ve learned is the tables can easily be turned. Nox and his brethren of guards don’t like to associate as immortals, even if they possessed the souls of them. No, they find themselves superior to those of us forced into service because they chose to become sentries while others were seen as criminals being punished. It's easy to notice once we came back and I saw the way they held themselves apart. Go figure the only thing making them different to me is their self-righteous attitudes.

Nox bares his teeth. “You’re not trusted here.”

This again? “Yes, you’ve made that abundantly clear. So what is it you hope to gain by following me around?” I lift a dark eyebrow. “You want to talk to Rowan? I can arrange that.”

“Only Zeke speaks for–” Nox starts.

“Ah, ah,” I interrupt. “Don’t bother lying. It’s not a good habit to form. Rowan specifically told the entire state to not fuck with me unless they have a death wish. Do you have one, Nox?” I was beginning to think it was the only reason Nox kept appearing, battle ready and thirsty for my blood.

He sneers in response. “We’re evenly matched.”

Up until a few days ago I would have agreed, albeit begrudgingly. Instead, I let loose a feral smile. “Is that what you think? Then you wouldn’t need two of you outside my door. No, you’re scared I can take you. And if you don’t get out of my sight right this instance immortal, I will show you what I can do that you can’t.”

The guard beside Nox stiffens, shifting his eyes down both ends of the empty hallway. Looking for an exit or witnesses?

Nox glares. “We are protecting our citizens–”

My lord, does he ever shut up with the same spiel? “Try something else,” I say, crossing my arms over my chest. “Give me a seriously good reason as to why you’re following me and I’ll stop interfering. Don’t say you’re looking out for Rowan’s best interest or the estate’s. If I wanted to go on a killing spree to get my point across, I would have done so by now.” The fact I haven’t doesn’t escape notice. People aren’t afraid of me. Sure they still keep their distance, worry crossing their faces whenever they see me. But no one is actively afraid I'm going to kill them. Of that I'm fairly certain. They took Alyvia’s lead and merely acknowledge my presence without placing themselves directly in my path.

“Stop dictating what I do,” Nox snarls.

Oh ho ho, the snake on my face appears to be as fed up with him as I am. It lifts off my cheek, hissing and spitting in Nox’s face.

The guards immediately back up, growing pale as I advance a few steps closer to them. The snake seems pleased with their retreat, settling back on my face in the strange white geometric pattern it prefers.

“Now,” I lift an eyebrow, “are we going to have a problem we need to sort out or do I need to make it clear you’re pissing me off in an alternative way so there won’t be any misinterpretation?”

Nox’s nostrils flare but he remains silent. Probably for the best. Turning sharply, he stalks off with the new guard close on his heels. I’m tempted to toss out is it something I said to be sarcastic, but choose to move in the opposite direction of them, deeper into the estate where the bedrooms are.

Once I’m far enough away, I place my hands on my hips and glare at the empty hall. “Alright,” I say aloud. “Let me in. I’m returning the jewels. And do not place me back in Rowan’s bedroom.”

I don’t know if the house can hear me. Sometimes it seems the place truly does have ears while other times it ignores most of what happens within its walls. Hopefully now would be one of the times it listens to me, letting me return something I stole.

As if the house agrees with my reasoning, a door appears in the middle of two others, the bulky golden knob reminding me of what’s behind it. Stepping closer, I silently thank the house for allowing me to come and go as I please within Rowan’s personal domain and slip inside the quiet library.

Everything looks exactly as it did when I was in here a week ago. The chaos of the room never changes, despite how many times I’ve come in. Whatever it is Rowan’s doing with all of these maps, it seems like a big deal. Something akin to what plans would be used for invading. But no one here crosses the sea. Perhaps he’s waiting for the people of Tellus to come here, but I have no idea what for. Lady Gwenyth and the other Lords and Ladies have no reason to cross the sea. Scratch that, only Lady Gwenyth has a reason to cross if she was coming for me.

Walking quickly over towards the back wall, I readjust the parchment papers and scrolls so I can replace the jewels where I found them. As soon as everything is moved back into place, I turn to stare at the wide room once again. Something feels off. Not like a presence is in the room, but a dark feeling settling deep in my gut. Darkness doesn’t tend to be something I can ignore. I usually find solace in it, especially back in Tellus, but here in Aïdes there's something foreign to the feeling. It doesn’t belong here.

Determined to figure out what the feeling is about, I begin to scan the tabletops and their contents. Maps of various degrees still lay out, all of which I’ve seen before. None of them increase the dark feeling, letting me know none of this is relevant to the omen. Fuck. I need to figure it out, almost like a compulsion coming over me to discover where the darkness is leading me. Deciding it’s better to open up the parchments to find out myself, I begin unraveling documents and shifting things around on the desk, no longer caring if Rowan knows I'm in here.

Several papers in different languages appear so I quickly shove them to the side. After digging on three different tables, I finally find something that catches my eye. A group of documents bound together with loose thread and no cover increases the vibrations in my veins, telling me this is what I needed to find. Glancing over the front, there’s no identifying marks to note what’s inside.

Opening the first page, my brows rise. Accounts from the High Lords and Ladies are scrawled everywhere. All of it appears to be when they came through the portal into this land, documenting their time here in the early years. Surprise punches me in the gut as I read one of the passages for the second time to ensure I’m not seeing things.

The Cliff of Embers appears to be the realm’s resting spot. Not all who come here are dead. The mortals living within the depths of the cavern take great care in ensuring the souls housed here are cared for. They believe the balance of life and death of the realm requires their sacrifice to guard their dead. I have never heard of such a thing. They do not appear to understand why they are drawn to the souls. Various monsters live just outside the keep, something I do not understand. Mortals should be weary of these creatures, but they seem to find their aid in protecting those who dwell in the cave as companions. Immortals appear to seek refuge here, where they no longer need to live or breathe, but are respected as one of the souls. The mortals guard over their sleeping forms, unaware of the danger they are truly in. The magic pulsing within the Cliffs does not phase them the same way it affects us. The power emulating outwards draws us closer, demanding payment if we are to use this place as well. We will be replacing the mortal guards with one of our own.

We will ensure our clan holds absolute power in this new realm.

For as long as I can recall, the Cliff of Embers is said to only be where the dead lie. Yet this account holds immortals there who cannot die but no longer wish to live. We were made before the High Lords and Ladies came here? How is that possible? Who placed the souls inside mortals, making them indentured servants to the higher elite? If not for the High Lords and Ladies, then who?

Before I can continue reading through the documents, the door to the private study abruptly opens. Rowan’s surprise is palpable as he enters, shutting the door behind him swiftly. The door vanishes, locking me in with the one predator I know nothing about beating.

His green eyes track to where I’m tightly gripping documents in my hand. Lifting an inky brow, he asks, “What are you doing in here, Keres?”

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