The Primal of Blood and Bone (Blood and Ash, #6)

by Jennifer L. Armentrout

Without the capability to love and hate, rejoice and mourn, gain and lose, there could be no balance.

I saw Ancients who had gone to ground and ones yet to Awaken claw their way free, shaking the realms. And I knew they were no longer the great givers of life and the anchors that kept the essence of the realms stable. They were the end that erupted mountains and turned days into endless nights, toppling cities of steel and drying oceans. I saw them rise, full of ruin and wrath.

That’s what the ten dreamed. The fall of ruin and wrath. And the rise of blood and bone.

It wasn’t like the Primal mist I’d seen surrounding Kieran. His had been gold and silver. Mine was silver and crimson.

The essence that had transferred from Poppy to us wasn’t the same. Somehow, the two she had within her had split between us. Life. Death.

“You should ask yourself why she asked me to make such a promise,” Kieran said. I closed my eyes. But it did nothing to prevent him from landing a blow that hurt worse than any fists could. “And not you.”

Somehow, Kolis had been in Teerman. My hand fisted against my thigh as I tried to keep my voice level. “And I told you that she has never been yours.”

“I wasn’t asking if you were thirsty for my cock,” he remarked.

“They are what you should fear,” the stranger spoke, sadness clinging to each word he uttered. “Now, they rise. Not from the blood and ash, but from the ruin and wrath of all they created.”

“The end has begun. And when it comes, what happened beyond the Primal Veil will seem like a blessing compared to what will happen throughout the realms.”

“You were pulled beyond the Veil because of the Awakening,”

“You are the result of a…perfect storm of several variables that alone are one thing but combined become something else entirely.”

“You are descended from Seraphena, who was born of the bloodline of the first mortal,” Holland said.

“But you were also born of a demis—a false god, yes, but a tragically powerful one. That’s a variable. Another is that you were also born of a direct descendant of two Primals, one being the true Primal of Life and another who is a Primal of Death—second only to his Queen and Kolis in terms of power.” “A third variable is that you are a second daughter,” Lirian added.

“Every new life, every new being, has to start somewhere and with someone,” Holland said, drawing my gaze to his. “And you are that someone.

“Because you and the ones you Ascended are Deminyen,” Lirian spat, lips puckering as if he’d tasted something sour. “Deminyen,” I murmured, my brows knitting. “Doesn’t that just mean the Ancient Ones?” “Deminyen is a…class of primordial beings with no anchors—not even to the essence of the realms.” Holland paused to take a sip. “It includes the Ancients, like the ones you saw earlier.”

“Life always prevails,” Holland said. “But you.” Thorne stepped forward, his swirling eyes meeting mine. “Only you can liberate bone and ash. Only you can liberate death.”

She’s not Sotoria. She is Penellaphe Da’Neer—Poppy, if she allows it.” My breath snagged as my chest swelled. Gods, I couldn’t love this man more. “You’re right,” Seraphena said. “She is Sotoria reborn. But, at the end of the day, who Sotoria was is gone, and she is Penellaphe.”

“We are the Unbound,” she continued. “We do not feed on blood.”

“Penellaphe Da’Neer. The Queen. And the Primal of Life and Death.” Poppy lowered her hood, the air charging with the kind of eather even these fools could feel. “Who the fuck do you think you are?” I was instantaneously hard.

Pain—soul-deep pain—entrenched itself deep inside me, and there was this snapping motion. A coming undone as…something shifted inside me. All the desperation and sorrow carved ruin into my bones. Panic and rage collapsed into ashes of wrath. I tipped forward, unused muscles along my shoulder blades twitching as wings slammed down on either side of me—wings with silver feathers tinged in dark gray and threaded with crimson. The fluttering of smaller wings came, flapping wildly as snow began to fall. I suddenly understood Aydun’s words about our union because something was rising from within me. It was a thing—a powerful thing that had always been there. Waiting. Watching. Caged. And it was cold. Unending. And it tasted of ruin and wrath. It promised death and destruction. And I would unleash it, from the west to the east, laying waste to all in between.

Cas…yeah, he was in his asshole era.

The wings were not visible, but a crown the color of the darkest night and shaped like jagged bone antlers rested upon his head. He sat upon the remnants of ruin and wrath, a throne of bone and ash. The Primal God of Death and Destruction.