Anathema (The Eating Woods, #1)

by Keri Lake

He reached for Zevander, running his finger over the marking on his chest, a curious black swirl that’d seemed to anger Cadavros. On closer examination, there seemed to be words written in ancient Primyrian embedded in the swirl in a way that reminded Lady Rydainn of a wax seal across his heart. Branimir’s lips twisted to a snarl as he whispered the words that stabbed her conscience. “Il captris nith reviris.” What is taken will never return.

Curious as I’d always been to know what existed beyond it, I didn’t dare set foot inside that misty labyrinth of trees. No one ever did, unless prodded by force, because The Eating Woods never returned what was given.

I was no more than a few days old when I’d been found abandoned before that cursed arch in a wicker basket, a single black rose upon my chest. No one knew who’d left me there, but every villager speculated that, whoever they were, they must have hoped the woods would eat me, as well.

The men of our parish believed the birds to be an omen of death. They believed the same of me, too, so maybe I shared a kinship with the foreboding creatures. It was said that, on the day I’d been found near these woods, ravens had flocked around my basket. I liked to think they were guarding me, but some thought it a sign. A terrible sign. The whole parish had branded me as cursed ever since.