Page 71 of Oracle of Ruin

Torin only received word of the town this morning, so they must have worked all day to bury who they could before the sun set.

“Report back if you find anymore,” Rowan commands.

We all respond with a brief nod before setting off for our respective quadrants.

Any time we go on a raid, each of us is given a section. We travel on our own, as we’re less likely to be spotted by enemies if we move by ourselves rather than in a large herd. Each of us is beyond capable of handling whatever threat is thrown our way, but we still take precautions. I had casually slipped in that I would take the farther quadrant once we arrived and began to divvy out roles. Usually Rowan or I are stationed near the back of the town in case of an attack, so no one marked this as unusual.

The first house I search is nearly empty, save for a few vials of medicine. I reach for my leather-bound notebook only to find it not resting at my hip. I frown. I must have left it back at the inn. Making a mental note instead, I trek to my second home, finding a few more useful items. Then, when I can be certain no one is watching, I head for the address that has been burning in my pocket all day.

The house is untouched when I arrive, not even the rebels have gone through it yet. It rests in the furthest corner of the town, just far enough away that they wouldn’t have had time to go through it fully with all the bodies they had to bury at the front of the town. Tomorrow, they will sweep through it again and bury the rest.

My dagger is drawn when I enter, the tip poking through the entryway before any part of my body does. I hold it on the offense, clearing the entry first. When no Kijova or soldiers attack, I allow it to lower and begin my search.

Dust falls from the cabinets I open, clearly untouched long before today arrived. I settle for making my way to the back of the house. A distant buzz fills my ears and grows with each step I take towards the final room of the home.

The flies got to my victim before I could.

I kick the body’s head back with the toe of my boot and hiss at the sight of the red birthmark below his ear. Lars was dead long before I arrived, and it was by his own hand, judging by the pills and bottle sitting next to his decaying hand.

My head lolls back and I inhale deeply, the scent causing me to gag. Fresh bodies are one thing to get used to, but once decay sets in, there is no iron stomach that can handle the smell. I glance down at the man, his eyes closed and face not pinched with fear like the rest. He died too easily.

The darkness in my blood calls out to that of his that now pools from his nose and the small holes the bugs have made in his flesh. My knife sings of its own accord, and before I can realize what I am doing, his thumb has been severed.

The rest of the fingers come off intentionally. If the sick bastard didn’t pay for his crimes in life, then he will in death. At least now, his body may be useful, providing weaponry to take down the king and save the kingdom. This disgraceful alternative is better than anything he could have offered in his miserable life.

The final finger hits the others in the pouch with a sickeningly wet thud, and just as I contemplate whether or not to get over my fear of tongues, a dark, feminine voice calls out from behind me.

“‘114 Mirrors Lane, Adil. Two trousers, one pair of boots, and a cloak.’” Kya speaks quietly, her eyes never leaving mine when I spin to face her. My gaze trails to the journal in her hand—my journal. “‘937 Browns Road, Belam. A pair of gloves, three blankets. 506 Falls Road. One shirt, two vials of medication, one piece of ginger root. 892 Drowny Court, Kian. Four socks, and one spare sock.’” The assassin’s gaze hardens to the point of stone, a single tear welling in each like water breaking through a worn-down dam.

My hand stills on my blade and I rise, leaving the body to rest.

“What happened to you?” she whispers. “There is no way in this world or the next that the girl who kept track of even a single sock that she had to take would ever go as far as to dismember the dead.”

I will myself not to look at the body, not at his open eyes or the fly-torn skin. Certainly not his fingerless hands, the damage that I myself did. But Kya looks. Kya looks at all of it and sees everything, as she always does, before turning that pensive golden gaze back on me.

My fingers curl around the dagger in my hand, squeezing until my knuckles go white and pop. “He was a rapist,” I hiss between clenched teeth. “Don’t ask me to show his body respect in death when he didn’t respectanyonein life—not their bodies and not their lives.”

“This isn’t about him. I couldn’t give a damn about him or his body. He deserves the death he got, but this isn’t about him. This is about you and whoyou’rebecoming. Because let’s be honest, you only took from him because you could justify it in your mind, but if you found any body mutilated enough, you’d take from it all the same. I don’t—”

“You don’twhat?” I snap.

“I don’t know you at all if you’re willing to go this far,” she breathes, her voice barely above a whisper. Her face is haunted, her lips pressed into a thin line and her shoulders barely restraining from shaking.

Guilt gnaws at the corners of my stomach and almost forces my lips to mouth an apology, but something stops me. As much as I fight against it, I can feel the darkness work its way up my throat and ply those lips open. “Then you don’t know me,” I say, the words bitter on my tongue. “This is awar, and I am trying to do my part. If that means getting my hands dirty, then so be it. I thought you of all people would understand that.”

Involuntarily, my gaze falls to her arm, the red paint nearly completely gone thanks to the humidity and sweat. Ink is not exactly the type of luxury one finds while the world is ending, and while Amír just found some, I know she uses it sparingly, touching up the intricate whorls with dye from crushed berries when we can find them.

I hit her shoulder with my own as I brush past, but she reaches out with serpentine precision and latches her fingers around my wrist. She applies pressure, gentle enough as not to bruise, but hard enough to get her point across.

“There are still lines we do not cross. I have my lines, Amír has her lines, we all have something that keeps us grounded so we don’t become monsters.” Her lips peel back in an uncharacteristic snarl. “Do you know why we took you in? Why you were the exception? Darling, it isn’t because Rowan thought you were hot. He could’ve trained you and rid us of you, we didn’t have to let you in. Hell, he could’ve fucked you and left you if that’s what he wanted. Have you ever wondered whyyouwere the exception when so many coveted the unattainable position of the fifth Nightwalker?”

The fifth. A spot previously occupied by Mavis until she betrayed them. A spot no one could fill, until I came along and they welcomed me with open arms. I’m too embarrassed to admit aloud that the thought never crossed my mind. I never wondered what set me apart. My whole life, I have been used to being handed what I want. I never had to think about what would happen if I wasn’t special. Because I was and I am. The last mage, the last known pureblood, the heir to the throne, the only child of the king—or so I thought.

Kya’s eyes are golden flames as she speaks, her dark brows pinched upon her lovely face, now so full of rage and sorrow. It feels like sin to see someone as beautiful as she is so broken. “It is because you had a good heart. You were kind regardless of the situation and you had morals. You were light and brought out the humanity in us, humanity we thought we had lost. Now look at you. You’ve lost yours. I know what that is like, I have been there, and I’ll be damned before I let you lose yourself too.”

I take one look at her, one good long look, before breaking free of her grasp. “Then you’re damned.”

I find the other Nightwalkers outside when I step through the door into the wintry night air. My breath fogs as I shiver, Rowan immediately coming to press close to my side. Kya steps out moments later, her face downcast.

---