Anathema (The Eating Woods, #1)

by Keri Lake

“What is this Corvugon you mentioned?” “They were messengers of the dead, believed to have been the beloved pets of the Death Goddess. Sizeable raptors with teeth and claws designed for tearing flesh. Centuries ago, they evoked as much fear as the dragon.”

“The king didn’t send those crows. It’s the magehood that hunts me now. The very men who accused me of being a raving fool now covet those stones. They’re the ones who drove me here.”

“No … they want to possess the weapon. And they want me to reveal where the seventh bloodstone lies.”

“Mortals haven’t existed in Aethyria as long as the Umbravale has existed.” “You’re wrong. History is wrong. Centuries ago, well before my time, they existed here. On these lands. Those with no power. No blood magic.”

“The seventh stone has always been a source of speculation, one the magehood has argued over since the Age of Renewal. For centuries, it remained a mystery.”

“The silver markings on that stone are unique to the Corvikae, who were known to worship the Goddess of Death. The very ichor that ran through her veins, ran through the veins of the Corvi people.” “And?” “If my vision is correct, the mortal I sent you after may be the first, or the last, of the Corvikae bloodline. She may carry the blood of the death goddess. And

while I may be many things to many people, I am not the vehicle for mortalicide.”

“I certainly don’t want to fuck with the daughter of ...

“As young as she is, she hasn’t had her powers long, then.” “I suspect not. But what do you mean, hasn’t? Is she …. Is she alive?”

“The girl still resides in Mortasia,”

“I’m afraid I cannot break the curse without the blood stone of the Corvi daughter, and I will not be responsible for ending their bloodline twice. Kill me, if you must.”

“Yes. I suppose, to some, I am a monster. Let your sister be a lesson. Wild and unruly women have no place in this world. You’re meant to be tamed, or put down, if necessary.”

“It seems, when consumed, the stones have the ability to alter bones and flesh. What was once the good and proper captain is now a flesh-eating animal.”

“You see, I may be a monster, but I can also be quite protective of you, my delicate little rose.”

“You must escape. You and your sister.”

“Let you go? You are mine! You will produce an heir for me, and I will add you to my curious little collection of freaks when I’ve no longer any use for you!” “I will never give you an heir!”

“Balls of Castero! A mortal! Has a mortal ever crossed over?”

“How the fuck does she speak Nyxterosi if she’s mortal, genius?”

“Are you telling me the mortal that crossed is a woman?” “Well, yes.” “Describe her.” “Um. Long, black hair. Very slim. Petite. She smelled of oranges.”

“Any notable features?” “Her eye … it was …. Well, it had a strange, silver marking.”

“Yes. However, this proves she is a descendant of the seven bloodlines. Only they would be permitted to cross so easily. Where is she now?”

“Let them? Are you mad? Of course we don’t let them! She is the last of her kind!”

Zevander didn’t bother to mention the fact that she’d seemed completely resistant to his power, somehow. That alone made her a threat to him. “It is as I said, Zevander. She must be protected at all costs. If she should perish, we lose not just a bloodline but an entire ethnicity.”

“The death glyph. The Corvikae worshipped the death goddess.”

Even if it meant returning to nothing. I had to know if she was dead, or alive.

“Can I at least ask your name? So that I’m not mentally calling you angry eyes?” A sound of disapproval followed. “Zevander.” “Zevander,” I echoed. “I’m Maevyth.”

“Aethyria. The world beyond the Umbravale.”

“She’s beautiful, and she smells delicious. How long do you think she’ll be safe in a cell? Hmmm?” “I said she’ll be fine.

“You believe it’s Cadavros.” It wasn’t a question.

“Is that enough proof for you?” It was there. Her sigil. Her bloodline. “Come. Allow me to show you something.”

The light illuminated a wall of webs, and in the corner crouched Branimir. Of course, he no longer looked like the brother Zevander had come to know. His face had hardened to a bark-like texture, his eyes black as onyx. Three horns had grown out the top of his head.

“Dear gods of old … what is this?” “My brother. Cursed by the same sablefyre that resides in me.”

“It is not a selfish pursuit that compels me to rid this curse. I have watched him evolve into this creature since I was a boy.”

“Should that become my fate, I’d sooner plunge a dagger through my heart.”

“Why not …” “Kill the spiders? I have. Each time I do, the nest grows bigger and bigger. I tried to kill him once, as well.” “You couldn’t do it.” “He didn’t ask for this. Neither of us asked for this.”

“It is the will of the wielder. Branimir does not long for power. He longs to die.”

“If you’re asking me to kill my brother …” “The Corvi were the only ones to survive.” “How?” Zevander asked, intrigued. “I don’t know. We don’t know the extent of their power. What this girl may offer alive.”

“And I’m curious, as well. Have you ever hesitated to kill anything?”

“Yet, you couldn’t bring yourself to kill her. If only you could!

He killed her.

“It isn’t what you did, but what you possess, Maevyth.”

“I don’t want to frighten you, but you happen to possess extraordinary abilities. Is it possible you’ve stumbled upon oddities about yourself? Things you can’t explain?”

“The villagers … they wanted to hurt my sister. They approached, and the moment I threw out my hands, a pile of bones lay on the ground.”

“Osflagulle. My gods, I’ve never seen this particular magic before.” “Magic?” “You possess incredible power, Maevyth. This one, in particular, has not been seen in centuries.”

“So, these mages that are hunting me, as you say—they want me because of these abilities?” “They want your blood, I’m afraid.”

“No. To rebirth an ancient weapon.”

“Why would I possibly believe any of this?” “Because I’m very invested in watching you live a long and prosperous life, Maevyth. If you believe nothing else, believe that.”

“The Scorpion.” “Ah. The sigil of pain and fear. You are said to be cursed.” “Yes.”

“Who laid this curse upon you?” “The king’s former Magelord. Cadavros.”

“And you were enslaved because of this curse, is that correct?” “Yes.” “It was the good King Sagaerin who freed you and made you one of his elite Letalisz.”