The Songbird & the Heart of Stone (Crowns of Nyaxia, #3)

by Carissa Broadbent

Asar Voldari. The Wraith Warden.

Morthryn. A prison created by the gods themselves, long before Obitraes was Obitraes, long before vampires existed at all. Each of the three vampire Houses guarded a site of great divine power. The House of Night held the Moon Palace and the Kejari tournament hosted within it, held every one hundred years in Nyaxia’s honor. The House of Blood had the barren fields where the god of death, Alarus, had been murdered and dismembered. And the House of Shadow had Morthryn. A place said to be cursed, even by vampire standards.

“A mortal is comprised of five components that separate the living from the dead,” he said. “And necromancy requires the spell to bring together all five again. So yes, it needs something to represent each of those elements.” He gestured to the first item in the circle—a long lock of silver hair bound with a red ribbon. It looked like it had once belonged to the corpse, a match to the silver-black tresses that fanned out around her shoulders. “Body,” he said. “In this case, I have the fresh corpse, so it’s largely ceremonial.” Now he nodded to the next item—a little wooden flute. “Breath. This represents the passage of time.” Next, a gold necklace. “Psyche. It represents memories. The past.” I squinted at the necklace, craning my neck for a better look at the emblem on it. It looked familiar—a circle bisected, with lines branching out from it. But before I could speak, Asar had already moved on. He gestured to the next one—a tiny, bloodstained blanket. My stomach turned when I looked at it, though I couldn’t quite identify why. It was small, and once had been white, but now it was covered with red-black blood. Whether it was vampire blood or old, dried human blood, I couldn’t tell. “Secrets,” Asar said. “The things mortals hide from themselves. And finally…” His gaze settled on the last piece of the circle, which was empty. “Soul. That’s what I need you for.” “Why?” “The representation of Soul can be anything, but pieces of their legacy are most effective. She was devout. ...

The vampires of the House of Shadow could manipulate the darkness, obscure the truth, look into minds. They could spin illusions and bend you to their will. It was the magic of deceit and secrets. Not healing.

If I were the god of the sun, I would have given her endless dawns and warm hearths. If I were the god of the sea, I would have given her cool rains on hot nights and currents that always brought her home. If I were the god of vitality, I would have given her sweet fruit and spring flowers. I would have given her anything, everything, because that was what she deserved—every single thing she had loved, fully and completely, about mortality.