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Before my eyes, they organized themselves into a single, ordered pile… and then they were a book. Navy blue cloth cover. Thick. A tiny silver butterfly was stamped in foil on the front cover.
Edina's book.
For you, gods blessed. Thank you for loving my boy. —E
“This is what she wanted. I trust her. And I trust you, Little Osha. Whatever revelations might be in that book, they’re for you and you alone. You’ll know what you need to do with them.”
In the recorded histories of Yvelia, no weapon had ever withstood a direct strike from an Alchimeran blade.
Null blades cannot be manipulated.
Wherever the glowing hot magma touched the fell creature’s body, the black, knotted veins beneath the surface of its skin bulged to the surface and split open, disgorging the foul-smelling decay within.
“IT’S CALLED BRIMSTONE. It isn’t like our blood, exactly. It is what keeps a fire sprite alive, though,”
“It’s an element, really. Brimstone. A kind of magic all on its own. It gives the fire sprites life.” “And it kills the rot,”
“The brimstone keeps them alive. Like blood, it flows throughout their bodies, keeping their core temperatures high. Unlike blood, they cannot lose a significant amount of it. A few drops at most. It does not regenerate as our blood does. There is a finite amount of brimstone in Yvelia, and every last drop of it is spoken for by the sprites. When they want to procreate, the whole community agrees to donate a small part of themselves. Archer will only live because other members of his pyre have given some of their own brimstone to bring his core temperature back up again.”
We can’t use the brimstone. To secure enough of it to eradicate the rot and kill the infected feeders, every fire sprite in Yvelia would have to die.
I am my father’s son. My strength has always been my shadows.”
“She’s painting you as a martyr to her cause. Using your name and your story. Twisting everything, making you sound like some kind of Zilvaren patriot who loved her city. She said you were working for her, a loyal subject, violently killed by strangers wielding outlawed magic.”
you cannot skip ahead in this book. You will read things that will prevent you from facing the challenges in front of you for fear of the ones ahead, to the ruin of us all.
You will change if you choose to walk down this path. But with the brimstone rune sealed to you, there is a chance you will be able to use it to help save Yvelia from the veil I see descending upon it. If you decide to reject this rune, there are still other courses of action that can be taken to fend off the darkness, but the odds of those plans working are slight in comparison.
The dark, predatory part of me pulled at its fetters, wishing to be free and held unaccountable for the acts of depravity it would commit without the steady hand of restraint holding it by the collar.
“It wouldn’t be wise to provoke me to action, Osha. Not with you looking like this. I do love to mar a pretty thing.”
“Your body is mine for the next three minutes. Surrender.”
Another tattoo. Beautiful roses bloomed across the tops of her thighs
In fairness, there was nothing overtly anxious about the male… but I knew him. Had known him all my life. And these small tics made something inside me prick its ears and sit up, curious.
Hmmm.
Consider a sixth. Only the golden-toothed wolf can be trusted. —Entry from the journal of Edina of the Seven Spires
“I was reminded recently that I was a wolf,” he said, smiling softly. “And wolves do not cower in dusty libraries, afraid of their own shadows. I swear myself to you, Saeris Fane. I will carry out your bidding so long as there is breath left in me. And when I pass from this place and move on to the next, I will carry your banners there and storm the gates of heaven in your name if you wish it.”
Crowning Foley Lord of Midnight.
“Dancing is like fighting, Osha. It’s also like fucking. And I pride myself on my skills in both of those arenas.”
“Well. I’ve impaled quite a few people on the end of my sword,” he said conspiratorially. “And I’ve lost count of how many battles I’ve fought in.”
But sometimes, if you wanted to… you’re allowed to soften, Saeris. You’re allowed to stop baring your teeth at the world and take a breath. Because I’ve got you.”
Left and right, high bloods started vomiting blood, staining their fine clothes red.
Soon, most of the vampires in the hall were writhing on the ground. And in the midst of them all stood Taladaius, towering over them like some silver-haired harbinger of death.
“Your gluttony is your undoing! Welcome to your final death. But who am I to deny you one last chance at redemption? The thralls you have sipped so greedily upon this evening are passing through the hall with glass vials. Take a vial and swallow its contents, and you will undergo a painful transformation. No, not a transformation. You will be reborn, back into life, back into your Fae bodies, where you will face the horrors of what you allowed yourselves to become! Refuse the vials, and you join the other demons in hell with me posthaste!”
“This is what should have been done a long time ago. They were never going to change, Fisher,” he said. “They’re incapable of it. Evil through and through. And I wasn’t about to put this on your shoulders. I wasn’t going to do it to you, either, Saeris.” His eyes searched for mine. “I made the hard choice so that neither of you would have to. This was my final act as a Lord of Midnight. Now I’ll go pay for the sins I have committed.”
We watched in horror as Tal swallowed—whatever was in the glass was a far greater dose than had been delivered to the other high bloods. There was no delay for him.
“Tell Everlayne… I’m… sorry,” he said.
“I told him I didn’t want to come back as a vampire. Well, now he doesn’t get a choice. He’s coming back Fae whether… he likes it… or not!”
He raged and he spat, but in the end, Foley forced the clear contents of one of the vials down his neck and massaged his throat until he swallowed.
One in ten had made the choice to live and face the consequences of their years in Ammontraíeth.
this is why he wanted to disavow me!” I closed my eyes, shaking my head. “It’s all linked. The blood, I mean. Malcolm’s blood turned these high bloods. It must be some kind of magic.”
He severed you from his blood so that it wouldn’t affect you. He’d already done the same with you a long time ago, Foley.”
“You told me time and time again that becoming a vampire doesn’t alter the foundations of who you are, only highlights them. Look around you. These bastards are crumbling to ash right now because they’re evil down to the festering marrow. They choose death over life because they don’t want to lose their power. There was no oath forcing them to carry out the atrocities they committed. It was in their nature.
“You are blameless. Whatever horrors you committed were forced upon you. Malcolm knew how much it would tear you up inside.”
“Which means she probably drank from a vial and isn’t a high blood anymore,” Fisher said. “And trust me, if you thought she was bad as a vampire, you definitely do not want to run into her as a witch.”
Referring to Algat.
The residents of Ammontraíeth were Fae now. They were confused. Even down in the Cogs, the high bloods were all dead, and disoriented Fae wandered the streets, not knowing what to do or where to go. Was I still their queen? Was this still their home?
Carrion hurried into the dining room, carrying a small blue pot full of dirt and a sharp dagger clamped between his teeth.
Carrion's plant! lol
Tal brought them to the river, and I marked them with sigils. When they cut themselves, I bled through their veins. A simple transference spell, really. My blood—” “Your blood is a curse to all vampires. It kills them unless they take the antidote that your clan created.”
“The sigils I marked the thralls with, they weren’t big enough. Weren’t strong enough. I couldn’t risk the high bloods sensing the magic on them or seeing large marks. I needed a much bigger conduit to channel the spell, one that would then redirect the energy to the thralls and complete the spell.”
The fucking tattoo. The one I’d seen covering Tal’s chest back in the Hall of Tears, beneath his loose shirt. It hadn’t been a tattoo after all. It was a witch mark.
The lines of it were woven tight, hundreds and hundreds of spells bound together consecutively, forming a tapestry of sigils that would have taken an entire clan of witches a full month to untangle.
Saeris was leaning over Tal’s flaming body, and she was pressing her hands to his chest. Her whole right arm was illuminated brilliant white-blue. In the space between heartbeats, where my seized lungs tried and failed to take a breath, the glowing filaments of Iseabail’s spell fell apart, and the fires of hell went out.
“This plant isn’t even supposed to flower,” he said. “It releases spores once every ten years instead. But those… those are flowers, right? And they keep blooming every time I speak, don’t they? I’m not losing my mind?”
Do not undo Zareth’s work. You are as you are for a reason. Do not drink from the vial. Do not let your new Lord drink. The time will come, but not yet.
We need to evacuate Cahlish and rally at Inishtar. We should move quickly. I need to open the biggest fucking shadow gate I’ve ever made, and we need to start shifting the troops. We have to get everyone to safety.”
“You’re a mannerless thing, aren’t you? Quite feral.
I held up my hand, showing my runes. “This was from you?” “Indeed. You will have to work for most of your runes, but some of them may come as gifts. And this one was gifted just in the nick of time, wouldn’t you agree?”
It is blasphemy to record such things on paper, King Killer. The rune is my name. It does not grant you magic, the same way other runes do. The ability my rune grants you is complicated. It allows you to… undo. Or maybe…” It pulled a strange face that I could not decipher. “Break?” it offered.
I love the name King Killer.
